Mercurial March

March came in like a lamb... beautiful weather. Beach weather, even: Kareena and I met for a socially distanced walk at the beach and then ended up sitting by the wall, socially distanced metres apart, for our usual chat and pray.

Teaching online had become a joy, as we had devised a system which gave the children instant feedback on their work and cut down on the many hours of marking. I still worked long days, but was able to take breaks at lunchtime to sit in the sun and relax for a few minutes.

Back at school on 8^th March, so we were up earlier for our morning cycle ride: mine to school, Richard’s to accompany me. One day, he spotted nine buzzards circling together in the air above. It was good to get back to a regular cycling routine.

It was strange to be back at school in our Covid ‘bubbles’ – out of our usual classroom, sitting apart, unable to share books or equipment, only able to use certain areas of the school at certain times. Still, the children were glad to see one another and it was good to reconnect with them after a 7 week break.

However, restrictions lasted for only two weeks until Guernsey reopened on March 22^nd, with plans for further relaxing of border restrictions until later on in the summer. One of our colleagues burst into tears of relief at the news.

But spring has sprung. Daffodils, violets and primroses exploded everywhere, trees and bushes started to come into bud and birds arrived on patio. Robins – 4 at one point; dunnocks; great tits, blackbirds and thrushes; and even a pair of coal tits all visited the bird feeders regularly. A great joy to watch them from the kitchen window....

 ...and out like a lamb, after acting like a lion in the penultimate week. Several days of stormy weather: wind, rain, gales, hail... everything spring has in its wide repertoire was thrown at us. And then came beautiful balmy weather.. a warm wind with bright sunshine raised temperatures into the late teens and the front hallway thermometer registered 35 degrees. 

Sprimg sprang into action big time. 

Reflections on Covid-19 in 2021 - my (lack of) contribution

I wrote this during the first lockdown without, I think, posting it anywhere. Now that we are gradually coming out of the second lockdown, after a number of cases appeared in the community on 22nd January, not much has changed. (Figures this time are nearly 600 cases; the first wave was 252, with a blissful six months or more of no new cases and complete freedom across the island.)

The first time, there were rainbows everywhere: drawn and coloured on pieces of paper in windows; painted on pebbles, walls and even a boat. This time, lockdown was sprung on us - we woke on the 23rd to social media messages of : 4 cases in the community. Stay at home. Everyone heaved a collective sigh and did, indeed, stay at home, getting stuck in to online learning and working from home once more, venturing out only for essential shopping or some daily exercise outdoors.

With all the encouragement to really act as a community, looking out for and helping each other, I felt that my own contributions have been absolutely paltry.

True, I saw a lot of my neighbour – not elderly or in need, but we helped each other out with shopping, sharing garden tools and tips and moral support in the form of coffee mornings and wine evenings. (Over the fence at double Safe Social Distance.) Otherwise, despite the little cards I dropped through letter boxes a few weeks ago, offering help and giving my contact details, my neighbours seemed to be self-sufficient and happily getting on with isolation. I didn't even bother second time around...

So I don’t feel I do much. Even working from home, one of my colleagues has been planning the maths for my year group, the other the English. I’ve only had two lots of R.E. and the Geography to sort out, so have felt a little guilty that I haven’t been doing more.

Until my marking load hit me with the force of a runaway truck. No boring details, but, potentially, I could have to give up to 300 pieces of feedback a week. 300 pieces of work to mark, checking that answers are correct, giving explanation of errors and pointers for improvement.

How do I know? Well, as I started to feel overwhelmed – by then it was 10pm and I was way off finishing the day’s work - I timed how long 10 assignments took and calculated the average. That seemed reasonable. I was both reassured that I had a solid reason for my feelings of drowning in a sea of screened work and hit with despair at the monumental task in front of me.

Each assignment has different demands. Some feedback – the delightful writing and drawing of six year olds – is quick, easy and lifts my spirits. Maybe up to a minute – yes, sixty whole seconds – for each child. It takes a little time to click through to the work, wait for it to upload, read and then think about my response, but it is easily manageable. Others – English grammar and comprehension – takes a minimum of 2 minutes. Geography: about the same, once I had spent the time to work out my expectations, criteria for success and levels of achievement. Oh, and the all-important house credits to be awarded as well, of course.

And the maths? Oh, my goodness. If the maths doesn’t want to make me slit my wrists, I don’t know what does. A minimum 5 minutes, often more. Why so long?

· The work is set at two levels: basic and extension, children’s choice.

· Their finished work is not given in with any indication of which task they have chosen.

· Their finished work may be filled in on the sheet electronically (relatively easy); filled in on a paper print out and photographed, then uploaded; written in full, set out neatly, in an exercise book; or just the answers written down, so I have to work out which task they actually completed.

· The work may be out of focus; photographed sideways or upside down; or even given in as a video, the camera panning blurrily from one page to another.

Apart from the workload, the fact that feedback is online, instantly visible to parents as well as children, gives me some anxiety. Some parents, of course, are too busy juggling their own work from home to even help their children, let alone go through the answers with a toothpick. (Yes, I know the analogy is toothcomb, but this combines also with an excellent nit-picking attitude so a new word

seemed called for.) But there are still the few – or the few children with an assiduous eye for detail and wish to catch the teacher out – or love to find fault.

The head has it right when he asks everyone to be kind. I’m doing my bit. I haven’t named anyone. (But you know who you are….)

So am I doing my bit? You betcha. I’m keeping the school and education system going, educating children and keeping them out of their parents’ hair and providing a valuable service to the community.

Working hard. And still able to make the odd cake or two to donate to young people struggling in isolation…now, that DOES feel good and worthwhile. #personaltherapy #makesmefeelbetter #getbacktothemarking

Ferocious February? No, Feeble February. Even FANTASTIC February

Well, we had hoped that February would be drier than January, but it certainly didn’t start off that way and by February 3^rd the garden was completely awash again: the pump could barely keep up and water flowed into the ‘swamp’ as quickly as water was pumped out.

Even February 2^nd – Candlemas – was a disappointment. In my mind, it should be crisp and clear. To add to that, the film Groundhog Day, featuring the semi-mythical groundhog Punxsutawney Phil, wasn’t even on television. Not that I would have had time to watch: I was mired in online marking as, once again, we struggled to carry on teaching through lockdown. I worked out that I had in the region of 250 assessments a week to feedback on...

So I did what any self-respecting teacher would do and took up some crafting hobbies. Specifically, a little darning, a little crochet and a little embroidery, customizing my elegantly navy face mask with yellow and white flowers and a little rainbow. #littlethingstokeepmesane

At school, we were told to decorate/embellish a mask, send in the photo and the deputy head would create a 'Guess Who' powerpoint. I made quite sure that I would be completely unrecognisable...

...though I did have my own more respectable, embroidered one.

Half term was a relief and provided an opportunity to catch up on marking... those assignments that had been handed in, anyway. And then it snowed! Light grains, consistently for a few hours, were enough to put patchy coverings on banks and lawn. Fun.

Guernsey continued in lockdown... mask wearing in force.

Generally, February turned into a maw of lockdown and weather. Warm days, sunny days – heating up the front porch to ridiculous temperatures, cold days. We had grainy snow one afternoon, which lingered in ice puddles for several days, but not the wonderful soft sticky stuff we longed for. High winds, waves, bright seas...every day seemed different. And, despite the greyness, it became gradually lighter.

It seemed hard to stay in touch with friends and family, despite Zoom or Skype. Overwhelmed with marking online work, which trickled relentlessly over long days, it was hard to find creativity for anything else. The lockdown was not at all as enjoyable as last year's, when we had the wonderful company of Jonny and Adele, and then Nicky and Richard next door...

Still, I made lemon curd; finished customising my face mask with embroidery; started, half-heartedly, a crochet project before running out of wool. The woodburner came into its own, greedily eating up garden kindling, throwing heat out into the room. I discovered a new and successful recipe for gluten-free Christmas cake. The trouble was... I had adapted it, but not remembered what I had done. Prunes were a factor, as were apricots and too much liquid. Had to try again.

Feeling sorry for the birds, I decided to be more intentional and discovered that they loved porridge oats. The robins were particular fans and we soon discovered that four of them lived in the garden when they dcied on the oats even before I had retreated into the house after restocking the feeder every morning. Great tits, coal tits, dunnocks and even a wren were soon seen to join the robins. What a joy.

 Christmas decorations were, finally, tucked away, save for the collection of hearts which moved to a twig tree in the entrance hall. A little tidying up, a little catching up of emails. A sense of time wasted, spinning in circles as we waited for warmth.

A serious energy deficit, a sense of impotency in Feeble February. 

And then... it all changed. My winter posts are heavily weather dominated, not least because the weather has such an effect on our wellbeing. The last week in February was marked by much warmer weather, no rain and brilliant sunshine. Flowers bloomed: daffodils, primroses, violets, celandines...

Sitting outside on the last Saturday of the month, my shoulders were sun-tinged. I can't say sunburnt - we are talking February in the northern hemisphere, after all - but definitely a change of colour after an hour of basking in the sun on the bench outside the front door. No wind, 'feels like' temperatures in the twenties.

Add to that: lockdown rules relaxed. We were allowed to 'bubble' with one other household and could gather outside, masked and socially distanced, with up to five of us altogether. It made such a difference being able to meet friends again. Of course, I'd had a great deal of online interaction: meetings with children and colleagues; Bible studies online; and numerous one to one or group gatherings via Zoom. Still, being able to have friends round, or go out to breakfast, was a joy. The last Saturday, in fact, we had a pre-breakfast cycle ride on our way to our 'bubble' for breakfast; bumped into a friend out for a walk on the way home; a family stopped on their cycle ride past our house; and my dear friend and colleague Carry and husband dropped in on their cycles for a socially distanced chat. Really wonderful.

So my motivation returned. I was inspired by Orsola De Castro, an Italian woman who has founded and created Fashion Revolution in a bid to change the way we approach fashion, encouraging us to conserve and restore the environment with the choices we make about fashion. One of the simplest changes was to repair, rather than throw away, clothes.

In theory, that has never been a problem for me, but I don't always catch the necessary repairs in time. All through lockdown I have kept cosy in a couple of old - at least 25 years between them - cashmere jumpers. Both of them had been repaired but still had worn completely through at the elbows, the sleeves hanging in tatters. Inspried by Orsola, I cut the sleeves off to just above elbow length, hemming them neatly, patching the larger holes and embroidering wherever I could, albeit in the same colour. 

I was thrilled with the result and am inspired to, perhaps, seek out similar garments in charity shop throw outs to see if I can similarly rehabilitate beautiful wool. A new hobby...

So, when I look back, I see a full month. I may have felt, at times, as if I did nothing except sit in front of  a computer, teaching lessons, marking work or attempting to sort out a myriad of different issues, but in fact life was considerably richer than that. Prayers with friends over Zoom, or writing a prayer in a birthday card, were answered subtly and quietly. Creativity in embroidery and sewing lifted my spirits. And talks with family - Cara particularly becoming ever more interactive - were a joy.

Fantastic February indeed.

New year, new beginnings, new adventures through January

January began in a great rush after a busy Christmas. We had had a wonderful time at home and with friends, continuing on into the New Year. I managed to get a visit in to the garden centre to see the Christmas decorations – a wonderful Christmas miniature ski village, with train, ski-lift, balloon rides and all manner of interesting  buildings had been introduced last year. I loved it. Sadly, by the time I got there after Christmas, it was still up, but not in operation. A bit of a disappointment. But the cycle ride there was wonderful: an exceptionally clear day gave us great views of Alderney to the north, with even the little islands Burhou, Ortac and the rocky islets of the Casquets clearly visible. Extraordinary.

I was soon back to school – INSET on the Monday, a public holiday still in some parts of the world. We had to do some online courses on various aspects of teaching which proved to be quite interesting and inspirational – always a bonus.

Time at home was spent helping Nicky and Richard, as they finished clearing their field next door. The first third of the month was full of rain and so, eventually, the field and our garden flooded. We had the pump well set up by then, so, although much of our garden was quite soggy, nothing was quite underwater.

It was a different story with the field. The compost heap was dry enough to shovel clear, but the hen houses were standing in inches of water. We paddled as we helped carry various parts of it – each one flat-packed down into 6 boards. The houses were going to a good home: The Soil Farm, a sustainable smallholding, majoring on wormeries and chickens in an effort to utilise local food waste and improve the soil. Appropriate, then, that a friend lent us a copy of the film The Biggest Little Farm... fascinating.

After all that, it was a relief when it eventually stopped raining quite as much and we had a couple of sunny, dry days.

Meanwhile, I prepared for a little Ladies’ Bible study group I was initiating with, it has to be confessed, more than a little trepidation... a group of women were coming who I barely new. #alwaysinteresting.

And Cat sent us frequent, absolutely delightful photos of Cara and Rosie... and videos of Cara's adventures. She is consistently funny, brave, adventurous, charming: such a delight to see her developing so quickly.

Then, three weeks into January, Guernsey was thrown into turmoil once more. We woke on Saturday 23rd January to... Lockdown. Declared overnight, the news spread rapidly by local media such that by 9am the roads were busy and shop car parks filled to overflowing as people rushed to do their shopping. By 3pm, the roads were almost deserted. Stay at home, stay at home... only going out for essential shopping, medical visits and 2 hours exercise outside a day.

 4 cases had appeared in the community with no apparent links to the few cases - only 6 - which had developed while visitors were still in self-isolation. By the evening of the next day, the Sunday, there were 20 cases; by Wednesday 27th, 84. Getting on for a thousand people had been tested in less than a week and more were self-isolating, waiting to see if symptoms would develop.

Guernsey - particularly Dr Nicola Brink, our leading virologist and director of public health - acts quickly, following New Zealand's example. (Even there, a case developed after somone came out of mandatory 14 day quarantine.) Travel in and out of the Bailiwick had been banned, in any case, earlier in the month as the virus rampaged through Britain. Even travel between the islands of Herm, Alderney and Sark was restricted, with travellers to Alderney having to isolate for fourteen days in order to protect the island and its rudimentary medical services.

The hospital was already full to capacity with the usual winter illnesses and ailments. Schools were closed - completely, not even for key worker children. My school instantly went to online learning, with daily online staff meetings.

We were prepared, but the onslaught of technology was still exhausting. I spent two hours - TWO HOURS - with one child, who was a techie whizz but nevertheless was struggling with his ipad. We got there eventually...

And the weather. Ranged from beautiful bright sunshine, so clear we could see Alderney and Jersey with no trouble at all, to a day full of fog, mist and drizzle. A day to sit in by the fire and wrestle with marking work - mostly clear and well-processed, but some submitted as upside down or out of focus photographs, often with a large expanse of carpet around them, rendering the actual work almost too small to read. I am getting quite a good idea of the carpet choices in some of the households....

And then the email came. I had been in contact with a member of the school community and needed to self-isolate. Fourteen days from the last time, which, as we had already been in lockdown for a while, turned out to be just four remaining. 

I moved into the guest room, working in the hallway, with the same set up we had used for Jonny and Adele last year. It seemed a bit silly, isolating from Richard, as we had been together, but it did mean that he could still take the dog out for solitary walks through the lanes.

We communicated through the glass of windows and messages on WhatsApp. The menu was somewhat limited...

And the weather settled in to wet. We had actually been, unwittingly, following 'dry January' in not drinking wine. There's more than enough water to compensate - poor plants, sitting soggily in a swamp... 

Let's hope that February is drier...

Book review... Fall in Love with God's Word - Practical Strategies for God's Word, by Brittany Ann

I posted this over on my other blog, but reading this book - making notes, thinking about it - has taken up most of the month of January, so it seemed fitting to post here as well.

I received an advanced review copy of Fall in Love With God’s Word by Brittany Ann just as I started a small women’s group – perfect timing. The book is divided into three parts, each one a practical guide to studying and learning from the Bible. I particularly enjoyed the first part, which gives a clear, concise explanation of the different ways in which we might approach the Bible. None of these on their own is perfect and we need to understand the genre and context of the various books and writings if we are to read and interpret Scripture correctly. Brittany Ann also talks about the different ‘lenses’ with which we view verses, which helps to gain a correct interpretation and application to our lives.

The second part of the book explores how we can root out sin and recognise and replace incorrect teaching and unhelpful/sinful thoughts. Brittany shows that “We don’t read the Bible to learn about God. We read the Bible to meet with  God.” and gives practical tips and strategies for doing so.

Lastly, Brittany looks at the obstacles we put or permit to stand in our way of growing closer to God. Busyness, tiredness, lack of motivation, distractions, forgetfulness, lack of biblical knowledge, lack of intimacy with God are identified and helpful tips for overcoming these are given. I am passionate about forming spiritually deep relationships with others and so I found the last chapter, Cultivate Spiritual Community, particularly encouraging and affirming.

This is a wonderfully practical manual which does what it says. I’ve just started a new small group of women who want to share ‘more than small talk’ and create community together: this couldn’t have come at a better time. A great book for all Christian women, wherever they might be in their journey with God.

Brittany Ann writes in an easy-to-understand style and this is a wonderful manual for exploring widely while diving deeper into Bible study. One to revisit.

(And one other reason I am grateful to Brittany Ann: last year I joined an Advent study group she hosted on facebook. To my delight, I found that an old friend - who I hadn't seen for two decades and who I had lost contact with - had joined the same group. We reconnected, much to our joy and delight. What an amazing 'coincidence'.)

Delightful December

Well, December has been absolutely delightful, in spite of the weather: wind and rain arrived with a vengeance and we have just had a tremendous hailstorm. Even a couple of hours later, the hail is still lying around in drifts.

Early in the month, we set up the pump which we bought last year, after the back of the garden flooded. The field behind is slightly elevated and so, once sufficient rain had waterlogged the ground, the water took the easy option and filled up the lowest part of our garden. We dug a hole as far as we could, down to the marl, sank an old dustbin in and installed a pump which then takes the water out to the drain.

We’ve used it several times already, sometimes for an hour or so at a time. By the end of the month, there was flooding in various bits of the garden: it subsides after a few days without rain, but we are keen that the plants, shrubs and trees do not stay waterlogged. Last year, in fact, the rain flooded the slabs which the shed stands on, so that the shed itself had a couple of inches of water inside it.

School, of course, was the usual run-up to Christmas. Actually, a wind-down. Reports had been written, projects were nearing completion and we started to ease up a little on homework. The last week was full of carol service rehearsal and performance; Christmas activity booklets – mostly maths and English, with some ‘Victorian Christmas’ thrown in; Christmas party and disco; and my traditional, Victorian fireplace themed, 3D Christmas card. The children all make one each, of course, and this year I made one for a friend who had taken ill and was in hospital. He is an artist, so it was a delight to see him examine each tiny intricate feature, including the handwritten Christmas card on the mantelpiece.

Many of the children wrote me cards, but my favourite by far was the handmade nativity card. A lot of painstaking work by a shy, quiet, under-confident child who took great pleasure in showing me all the different aspects of the nativity which he had included. It gives ME tremendous pleasure to look at it.

I managed to write, and send off on time, our card and Christmas emails, completing the last of them by Christmas Eve. Intentionally, we tried to have a low-key Christmas. At the beginning of December I began to feel extremely sorry for myself. We couldn’t go anywhere to see family as we would have to self-isolate for at least two weeks on our return and the holiday was barely two weeks long in any case. Plus that Covid does indeed make it risky to travel and New Zealand does not allow visitors in at the moment – let alone having to comply with THEIR quarantine requirements (a mere two weeks in a Government-approved hotel).

I forced myself to start putting Christmas decorations up. First a few strings of lights: this year, for the first time, we draped them in the entrance hall which gave a wonderfully welcoming glow. They will probably stay there until the end of February...#Januarycheer  Nativity sets went out quickly, as did my Jesse tree – twigs from our spring-time pruning this year, with a variety of ornaments. A few years ago – over 15, in fact – Cat and I made saltdough ornaments. There are only a few left, so I have supplemented with others although, over in New Zealand, she has made a complete set for Cara. Perhaps I might do that next year... Eventually, the tree was decorated, a candle lit and evergreens placed in a vase to host my collection of hearts.

And I got over myself. We committed to helping with lunch at church on Christmas Day, discovering, to our delight, that several other friends were also on the ‘team’. Our job turned out to be preparing vegetables beforehand and then welcoming guests on the day, hosting a table. A very different Christmas Day lunch – we had always had friends and family, or gone out to friends, for all our married lives. It was good to facilitate lunch for several people who were completely on their own and it proved to be a very enjoyable time. Even the weather proved to be fine enough to cycle: a glorious, sun-filled day, the air crisp and clear over the cliffs.

Baking pepparkakor, distributing the clove-scented spicy Swedish biscuits to friends, is a tradition I have followed for many years. This year I added vanilla fudge and lemon curd as well. The gluten-free Christmas cake turned out moister than in previous years, thanks to a recipe from Nigella, but was still unsatisfactorily crumbly.

The best part of December, though, was reconnecting with friends, near and far. Writing cards and emails, reflecting back on last year’s news, is always satisfying but we also found ourselves very busy socially. My Christmas work meal was enjoyable, immediately followed by my friend and colleague Carry’s birthday party – in a pub with a skittles alley. Good fun. Our church carol service provided more opportunities and then we were at friends for the Longue Vielle.

The Longue Vielle. What a great tradition. The origins of La Longue Veille date back to 17th Century, when an Act of Parliament allowed the export of wool from mainland Britain to the Bailiwick to service Guernsey’s woolen industry. Many islanders were engaged in the manufacture of woollen stockings, frock jackets and jumpers, and neighbours would often gather in each other’s homes to work together in the production of garments in a social setting. 

In the long winter evenings neighbours were in the habit of meeting at each other’s houses in turn, and while the matrons took their places on the 'lit de fouaille' [bed made of grass or rushes],1 and the elderly men occupied the stools set in the deeper recess of the chimney, the young man and maidens gathered together on the floor, and by the dim light of the crâsset, plied their knitting, sang their songs, and told their stories. The saving of fuel and oil, which was effected by working in company under the same roof, entered for something in their calculations. These assemblies were called 'veilles,' or vielles, and were well adapted to keep up a pleasant neighbourly feeling.

The wares produced were taken into St Peter Port on a Saturday to be sold at market, with a special market held for them on the day before Christmas, known locally as “surveille”. The evening before, on the night of December 23rd, goods were packed ready to be taken to market and, it being the last market of the year, the opportunity was taken to celebrate the hard work of the last twelve months.

“Masters were in the habit of regaling their servants—merchants treated those with whom they had dealings—and neighbours clubbed together to supply the means of spending a joyous night.”
Edgar MacCulloch, Guernsey Folk Lore

During this period in Guernsey’s history the church took a somber view of any celebrative gathering connected to religious festivals, in an attempt to remove the influence of ancient pagan festivals on their congregation. With no link to a festival, be it Christian or pagan, there could be little objection to this celebration and consequently La Longue Veille became an opportunity for islanders to openly celebrate the festive season without incurring the displeasure of the local clergy. La Longue Veille continued to be a traditional gathering of family, friends and neighbours on the evening of December 23rd long after the importance of the island’s woolen industry and regular veilles had declined. Traditionally, spiced and sweetened mulled wine (known as “vin brûlé) is served in coffee cups, along with cheese and a Guernsey biscuit or galette.

Here is a recipe for mulled wine: Receipt for Guernsey Mulled Wine.

Some cloves and whole cinnamon;
An ounce of the last;
Of the first just one quarter;
Boiled, but not boiled too fast;
In a quart of cold water
To a dozen of wine;
Take a pound of loaf sugar,
Don't break it too fine;
Let them stand both together
While boiling the spice;
You can taste it to see
That the sweetness is nice.
That the cloves and the cinnamon
May simmer away,
If you're not in a hurry,
One third of the day;
It may then be poured into
The wine, and is fit
To be warmed—but not boiled
When you wish to drink it.

From Louisa Lane Clarke's The Folk Lore of Guernsey and Sark, pp. 7-8.

After that, we had planned or impromptu invitations every day until New Year – possibly one of the most fun Boxing Days we have spent, playing charades with new friends. We enjoyed skype chats with family and my two dear ‘sisters’ – Cath and Mary. (Our WhatsApp group is called Three Sisters – we miss dear Ann, our fourth, so much.) The busiest Christmas season I can remember... despite not being able to be with family, we have enjoyed the time with friends both old and new.

It has been lovely. We look back on this year with tremendous gratitude. God has been so, so good to us: keeping us and ours in good health; providing us with family, friends and fellowship (even in a season of loss - our marvellous neighbours, Nicky and Richard, moved into town just before Christmas); and, lastly, the safe arrival of Rosalie Freda Noel Dow, born on 28^th December in New Zealand – a wonderful sister for Cara. Such joy.