When I visit England I still feel that I belong there, but not all the time. I quickly learn the coins in any new country, but I will never learn the £2 coin.
In the main shopping street of the London suburb where I grew up, there is a retail property that has recorded some of the changes in English society. I first knew it as a bank, with a name that could have come from a nineteenth-century novel: the National Provincial Bank. Then it was an Indian bank. Then perhaps something else. Now it is, of all things, a Thai restaurant, quite a good one.
I was there once when some customers came in, including a woman with a double push-chair in which the children sat side-by-side, so it was quite wide. The restaurant was entered through two sets of double doors. Both the outer doors opened, but one of the inner doors was bolted. She called to the staff, with an English accent but Australian questioning intonation, "A double buggy?"
The Thai restaurant, the word 'buggy', the intonation; I was a stranger.