School teaching thank yous

January, February, March, April … the year begins to disappear…

JANUARY began after a delightful New Year’s Eve spent with a few friends: a somewhat scaled down event as Omicron cases surged and we were all mindful of being careful, social distancing and taking lateral flow tests every time we ventured out.

Not that we usually stay up till midnight, anyway. After all, every day is a new day and God’s mercies are new every morning. Still, the New Year does give us a chance to reflect, and, as usual, we wrote down hopes and dreams for 2022, tucking them away in a little jar until next year. We shall see…

But the beginning of January was dominated by a sense of fear and panic, as we struggled to find out whether our internet and computers had been hacked. There had been a number of threatening emails in recent weeks: spam, of course, but still containing enough pointers to make us wonder and want to find out what was happening. One or two sleepless nights, mindful that online banking is always a danger…but unavoidable nowadays.

At one point, we thought it could all possibly just have been Google’s intrusive software, but it did make us review and improve our online security. Never a bad thing. And suspicions later were confirmed… and we were just one household among thousands in Guernsey to have a problem. #safetyinnumbers?  #notreally

Finn, of course, continued to grow apace and delight us all. He is a strong, healthy baby, doted on by adoring parents and grandparents. Such a wonderful answer to many prayers over the years…At five weeks old he started smiling, chuckling even at the video of his adoring father teasing the smiles out of him. We watch the videos on repeat.

The month dragged by slowly. Back to school, initially limited to working in ‘bubbles’, so my normal teaching commitments were suspended for the first couple of weeks. I did several days of supply, both at ECJS and a morning in a new-to-me school in the next parish.

January weather was cold, excluding many projects which needed to be done outside, although nearer the end of the month we ventured into the garden to trim and prune bushes and hedges.

There are A LOT of hedges in our garden. So much so that Richard has bought a long pole, battery operated trimmer after a retired gardener friend brought his round to show us. It has made all the difference. No more clambering up and down ladders, moving (or occasionally cutting through) extension cords, and much less tiring overall. It will make the task of keeping the garden tamed much easier. And Pete’s comment, after we had shown him round the garden (nearly half an acre, but he finished his career as gardener of a beautiful 23 acre garden): “You have a LOT of bushes.” Indeed.

We tried to feed the birds, succeeding quite well until a fieldmouse decided to muscle in on the grub. He sat on the bird feeder in the gloaming, merrily scoffing away at the grain and only reluctantly moving away when we actually got within a metre or so. So cheeky.

And January was, sadly, dominated by Dying Rabbits. One little one, evidently suffering from myxamatosis, developed blindness and spent much of the day sitting in the middle of the lawn, eating grass. Pickle must have sensed that all was not well, because she refused to chase it, uncharacteristically for her. After a couple of weeks, when we saw other tiny rabbits just sitting on the bank opposite, there was a carcass on the road. Every bike ride seemed to yield sightings of sick rabbits, shivering on the verge or up on a bank, or dead rabbits which had been run over. One baby rabbit in particular just seemed to crawl to the safety of the roadside…safety which lasted only a couple of days. Much as we find the rabbits highly annoying and very destructive, it is still sad to see them so ill and suffering.

And then… our ‘office’, the third bedroom where we keep files and books, had developed a mildew problem due to lack of use. We had not realised the extent of the condensation behind the big bookcase, staining the carpet with mildew and mould. The smell lingered so much, despite airing, use of the dehumidifier and cleaning, that we decided we needed to cut out the offending part before putting the bookcase onto small blocks so that there would be improved ventilation. Having books and files scattered in bags and boxes around the house messed somewhat with my head and I found it difficult to settle to my ‘jobs to do’ list. As for any writing, or more serious reading: a huge challenge. In the end, I decided to go easy on myself. It is January, after all… a time to hibernate and retreat and wait until spring…

But first: there was FEBRUARY.

Normally ferocious, February was quite mild, with even a few ‘sitting out’ days where, for an hour or so, the suntrap outside our front door offered a relaxing spot for coffee.

When I was at home, that is. I still had my regular day and a half, but found myself doing more supply both locally and at the school. Still wearing masks, still careful about how the children mixed – or didn’t mix, with separate assemblies and, sometimes, playtimes. #legacyofLivingWithCovid 

I had swum a few times in January, or ventured to Vazon with the bodyboard when the waves looked reasonable, but my swim in February was almost frightening. I managed 8 minutes in the water without becoming too cold, but my blood pressure afterwards seemed to be unnaturally high. A normal consequence of constricted blood vessels due to the cold water (10 degrees), but it was enough to make me consider easing off until the water warmed up a little, or wearing a wetsuit – which is never very satisfactory in terms of a good swim.

Catching up with friends over lunch (Nicky), tea (Sarah), a Zoom call with Cath and Mary in Shrewsbury and Ireland, or going out for meals with various others was great fun, along with a monthly breakfast for a few ladies. (I had to cancel the March one… the reason for that comes later.) And, of course, home group every week: a great joy.

Not only a joy, but home group has brought us into friendship with Ellis, who has kindly agreed to come and ‘dogsit’ for a week while we are away in April. Such a bonus.

But before April…MARCH.

The first half of the month: more of the same. Spring started to peer around the corner, the primroses I planted last year having multiplied hugely and blooming non-stop. (They carried on until May! Astonishing!) The daffodils erupted from the banks and flowerbeds…I started picking the buds but very quickly couldn’t keep up and the garden was awash with yellow by the end of the month. We have five or six different varieties, as well as my favourite narcissi: Soleil D’Or, which, apart from the deliciously fragrant scent, hold a piece of my heart from having worked as a teenager on a bulb farm on Tresco in the Isles of Scilly.

Then, on 10^th March, Everything Stopped. Richard tested positive for Covid. He spent two or three days lying on our window seat, soaking up the sun and dozing. Feeling unwell, but not desperately so.

Then, 3 days later, it was My Turn. I had been testing daily as part of the school requirements anyway, but was still astonished to see the little pink lines in The Wrong Place. I did a couple more LFTs to be sure. Yep, still positive.

And I felt ABSOLUTELY FINE. For 24 hours. Then, for the next 6 days, I became progressively worse. Unable to do anything except lie in bed (doing my fair share of tossing and turning) or crawl – almost literally, on one occasion, as Covid inflamed my badly arthritic knee – to the bathroom. I was quite aggrieved, really: wasn’t Covid ‘just like a bad cold’ by this time, especially for someone double-vaccinated and boostered? Or even asymptomatic, as some friends had been? This shouldn’t be happening.

I was thankful for the spare room.

Friends were kind, dropping in with flowers (Bel) or baked goodies (Martyn and Heather). We sat outside far away from each other: it was hugely encouraging and cheered us both up no end. So grateful for such thoughtfulness and love. And for weather, good enough to sit warmly in the sun.

I dragged myself into school after the mandatory 10 days self-isolation, although still quite unwell, but it was nearly the end of term and so I managed to fulfil all my teaching responsibilities in the knowledge that a rest was on the horizon.

Social engagements – breakfast, suppers – were cancelled, of course. School reports still had to be done: 135 altogether, even though I teach for less than a third of a week. And then… there was packing…

APRIL arrived.

So, 1^st April saw us fly off the rock on the first (of many) legs towards Tanzania, Jonny, Adele and FINN. First time for meeting our favourite (our only) grandson.

I had prepared for weeks, receiving parcels for him from England and New Zealand and the Mighty Amazon. Scouring our favourite children’s charity shop for suitable clothes, finding some animal-themed baby-gros which would fit perfectly. Finding little toys and books, which would come into future use: who knew when we would see him again? Packing was an absolute joy.

Margaret and David, old friends from Rugby days, had arrived the day before to enjoy a holiday in Guernsey and keep Pickle company. Lovely to catch up. Dear Sarah came to drop us at the airport (so kindly waiting for us, too, on our return).

The first flight to Gatwick was easy on the Aurigny jet and, again, I met a former colleague on the plane, so great to catch up with her. Coach to Heathrow was easy and we had plenty of time. We had planned to stay in a hotel at Heathrow before catching an early morning flight to Amsterdam, but that had been cancelled and so we were to fly that evening, overnighting at Schiphol instead.

At least, that was the plan. Going through security was straightforward and soon we were in departures at Terminal 3, enjoying a coffee at Café Nero (surprisingly good: large, hot and delicious) as we alternately checked the departures board, charged our phones and people-watched. Until…

First our flight was delayed by over an hour. Okaaay. Then…CANCELLED! Our connecting flight to Amsterdam, enabling us to then catch the flight down to Kilimanjaro, was CANCELLED!

We rushed back to the security personnel who told us we had to go all the way in the opposite direction to go through the back of departures to arrivals and thus back to the KLM check-in desk.

It was MILES. Bad knee cooperated and, as we rushed back, we had an email before we even got as far as KLM. We had a departure at 9pm to ARL with SAS. Not even Terminal 3…Terminal 2. Out we went into the open air across the concourse, eventually finding the SAS check-in desk.

“We don’t fly to Amsterdam,” said the check-in agent when I explained. “I’ll just check your name anyway…. Ah, yes. You’re flying to Stockholm and then from there to Amsterdam. 6.30 tomorrow morning.”

I had wondered where ARL was until the penny dropped: Arlanda, Stockholm. We were going to Stockholm! ???

“So we’re going to be up all night?”

The agent smiled sympathetically. “Afraid so.”

Oh well. At least we were leaving Heathrow. I didn’t dare think about the consequences of another delayed or cancelled arrival in Amsterdam. When KLM had cancelled our first booked flight they had, initially, wanted to re-route us with Kenya Airways via Nairobi, arriving a day later than planned. Not ideal.

So, off to Stockholm. Minus 5 degrees, but no snow, at least. And, indeed, we spent the next 5 hours in the airport, wandering past closed shops and cafés, intermittent Scandinavian artwork and groups of miserable looking travellers attempting to rest on hard wooden benches.

A beautiful, clean airport: it would have been lovely in the daytime. As it was, I found myself ridiculously pleased to be back on Scandinavian ‘soil’ after more than 40 years away and walked through the concourse grinning happily as I glimpsed familiar sights behind closed windows.

The feeling wore off after a few hours of ‘rest’ on a hard bench in our own little corner near check-in. Thank goodness for free airport wi-fi to help pass the wakeful hours.

Anyway. The flight was on time, we got to Schiphol with enough time for a coffee and then a haphazard struggle through security and passport control – it all seemed quite chaotic. (Though we escaped lightly, after reading tales of huge queues and utter chaos a few weeks later, as baggage handlers went on strike and Covid-induced staff shortages bit hard.)

As for the KLM flight: okay cabin-crew, not very good food, (the gluten-free options were disgusting, and Richard ‘s ‘breakfast’ consisted of 2 hard-boiled eggs! Luckily he likes them) but our extra-legroom (exit row) seats were surprisingly comfortable and the long flight down to JRO was easy.

Beautiful heat greeted us at 9 in the evening as we made our way through immigration and customs. Couldn’t claim our baggage, though: it hadn’t managed to keep up with us. We suspect it was left at Heathrow as it arrived, eventually, two days later, courtesy of Ethiopian airlines.

And what did all that matter, apart from a struggle, later, with KLM to reclaim wasted hotel bookings? NOTHING AT ALL! We had arrived in Tanzania.

The rest of April: a delightful blur of meeting Finn, enjoying wonderful family times, birds, swimming, camping, Africa....

Words are not enough.

Dominating December

The beginning of Advent came at the end of November and so, December was dominated by thoughts of Christmas.

I started, as usual, by trying to focus my thoughts daily: this year, with Lection 365’s daily readings, supplemented by a couple of other emails which popped into my inbox with different ‘focus’ words. Still, I found my thoughts somewhat scattered as I focused not only on the birth of Christ, but on the impending birth of our first grandson.

We were glued to WhatsApp throughout the day of December 17^th, once we knew that Adele and Jonny had gone to the hospital, alternating with long text messages between Lisa and I, she nearby while I was far distant. Both of us wondering, waiting, reassuring each other that all would be well. #thankGodfortheinternet

After a gruelling labour, Finn Oscar John Pollard was safely delivered by Caesarean section – a healthy 4.1kg – 9 lb, in old money. Already, after a few days, he looked more like a two month old baby and, by the time he was one week old, had been ‘out’ to dinner and gone on a lengthy visit to our friends Byron and Lisa, who live a 40-minute drive away from home. Wonderful photos of Other People holding him... our turn will come later.

But we are so, so grateful and rejoice that he has had such a wonderful welcome. Not least, by his other grandparents whose journey we prayed for as they made their way south from Doncaster, eventually arriving 36 hours after leaving home. (We, too, have booked to go and visit him in a few months’ time, but going by a more direct route.)

The rest of the month was dominated by internet and computer problems: the first, caused by a visiting baby unwittingly yanking on a cable which in turn pulled wires out of a connection box, which in turn caused intermittent and hard-to-identify problems, which led to a request for an internet upgrade and then an engineer’s visit and then... many, many hours trying to sort out various hacking issues. #joysofcomputers   #neverasimplesolution

Otherwise, my commitments at school eased up and I had plenty of time to enjoy writing Christmas cards and emails. I completed a lot of festive baking, including inventing a wonderful recipe for crystallized orange peel sugar cookies, baking 150 tiny gingerbread ‘stables’ for the Christmas programme at church and perfecting my Swedish pepparkakor recipe to be suitable for vegan friends.

My ‘Jesse tree’ became more of a decorated ‘hearts’ tree but I did open up windows on our vintage Advent calendars: one, in particular, I love,because the scenes behind the windows reflect the scenes in the whole Advent calendar. It reminds me of Jostein Gaarder’s  The Christmas Mysteries, where a little girl journeys from Norway to Bethlehem, gathering characters from the Christmas story as she does while simultaneously travelling back in time to the birth of Christ. A lovely and very clever story, compelling to read.

We hosted a few small gatherings for friends, preferring to keep groups small even though there was more preparation involved. First our home group, as we shared our own Christmas and Advent traditions: from reading the same beloved story each year to reminiscing about parents and sharing a Christmas poem by John Betjeman, to tales of stringing popcorn and cranberries to decorate a tree in the American tradition, to taking a dip in the sea on Christmas morning...  With other friends, we gathered on December 22^nd to celebrate La Longue Veille, the longest night, an old Guernsey tradition where neighbours and friends gathered just before Christmas Eve to drink mulled wine, tell stories and to work on handicrafts to sell at the traditional Christmas Eve market.

And many, many of the writers I read, including the lovely Ann Voskamp and her wise words, wrote of sorrow and loneliness and heartbreak all amplified by the expectations of the season.

Of course, walking and cycling as often as weather allows was a must, where we saw raptors of some kind on every occasion. One walk in particular, through the fields by the observation post towards Pleinmont, yielded several sightings of a buzzard, a sparrowhawk and a kestrel; another cycle ride gave us a close up view of a kestrel hovering before it dived and caught a vole just a few metres away from us.

Sea swimming, on the other hand, didn’t happen quite so often!!

Finally: a note on Lost Things. The first was a piece of protective tubing which came off the battery case on my bike. It was not a huge difficulty, but nevertheless an annoyance and inconvenience to replace. I tried to retrace my route, keeping an eye out, with a ‘I know it’s not really important, but it would be nice if I found it...’ prayer to God. And I DID! Something caught my eye at the entrance to a neighbour’s driveway... and there it was.

More seriously, we set off for town on Christmas Eve when I noticed that the diamond on my engagement ring had fallen out. After making sure that it had not come out in the car, on my return home I shone a light under the hall trunk, in the vain hope that it had fallen out while I had been pulling something out of my bag. And... THERE IT WAS!  Just a couple of minutes after returning home.  I had prayed the same prayer, after giving myself a sternly philosophical talking-to along the lines of ‘what is done, is done’, never expecting that I would find such a tiny object. Quite, quite miraculous. So grateful.

Living on this beautiful island, the sea with its continually-changing moods and vistas always a delight and a consolation, even in the worst weather – so grateful.

Hearing from so many wonderful, albeit mostly distant, friends over the Christmas season – so grateful.

Ending the month with more visits with nearby friends – so grateful.

Reflecting on so many answered prayers, especially for Finnley, Jonny and Adele – so grateful.

Thinking of Cat and Andy and our precious granddaughters in New Zealand: charming caring Cara and fearless adventurous Rosie – so grateful.

A long-lasting, happy, interesting and exciting marriage – so grateful.

So, so grateful.

Nice November

November hurtled onwards towards the Advent season. My one and a half days became 4 or 5, as I stepped in for various colleagues. Our French teacher, Barbara (who is Italian and wonderfully multilingual) had rushed to Italy, where her father had been taken ill; another colleague was ill with a chest infection; and my former year group partner, now teaching Maths and sport, tested positive for Covid-19.

It was, initially, quite a lot of fun and I certainly felt incredibly useful as I knew the routines and all the children in the various classes I covered, so it was relatively easy for everyone concerned. However, the third week – when I was also due to help invigilate the entrance assessment into Year 7, taken by all Year 6 children – was quite chaotic as I had no timetable given me, so just wandered from one lesson to another, picking up the reins as I went.

 I still managed to fit in a few extra duties as well, to help relieve the pressure, as mid-November we were inspected by ISI.

The inspection had been a long time coming and preparation had been intense, with countless new initiatives introduced and reams of paperwork completed. Somewhat galling to discover, after hours days of planning, that Ofsted itself (which inspects ISI, the independent schools’ inspectorate) no longer requires planning, preferring to look at what the children actually learn rather than what is taught. Yes, there can be a difference!

As a part-time teacher, I had more time than most to prepare and was quite relaxed. Nevertheless, I was observed twice in both of the departments I work in. Not unexpected, as I teach so much of the R.E. and I was assuming that the inspectors would look at least one lesson, if not more. All seemed to go well... the report will be out in December.

The other project which took up quite a chunk of emotional energy was that of finishing up the hard-standing Richard was preparing for the motorhome. It had taken quite a bit of organisation: booking a cement mixer to deliver and pour a load of ready-mixed concrete; hiring tools to help spread and smooth the cement as it poured into the slab; and organising friends to come and help, particularly Martyn who is highly expert at All Things Building.

But it was not easy. Richard caught the worst cold he had had in years and had to cancel; the second week, the lorry broke down, so yet more cancellations all round; but, finally, it was all done.

This in spite of Covid, with numbers of those infected increasing rapidly. Nevertheless, the proportion of those double vaccinated testing positive only amounted to 2%, as compared to approximately 15% of those unvaccinated. We started to find several friends suddenly testing positive and I was contact traced several times as children at school came down with it.

Nature in November was nice. Not many wet and gloomy days: in fact, on one of the aborted ‘cement’ days we sat outside the front door, drinking coffee with friends, for several hours. There were some stunning sunrises and sunsets, and so many sightings of buzzards, harriers and kestrels that we lost count. The garden  shone with luminescent nerines, their pink trumpets almost seeming to glow in the dark, while several shrubs produced an abundance of red berries, which the blackbirds slowly and methodically stripped off the branches. The potato flower, meanwhile, continued to rampage, almost drowning the oil tank and climbing up to the top of the prunus rusticana which shades our patio.

And then, the last weekend brought the beginning of Advent: but that is next month's story....

 

Outstanding October

October began with a delightful day of supply, teaching 5 year olds. (It should have been 6 year olds, but I was glad for the switch over – they were good fun.) It was surprisingly satisfying and I enjoyed meeting younger siblings of older children in the other department of the school, who I see once a week for R.E.

The weather was true Indian summer, continuing almost unbroken from September. There were a couple of unpleasant days, but otherwise it was absolutely beautiful. Sarah and I spent many afternoons sitting at the top of Petit Bot beach, drinking tea after a refreshing swim in the crystal clear waters between the cliffs. We could have been on a tropical island.

Almost every day was a cycle ride, whether to school, the beach for a swim or just ‘for fun’. The Nerines – the Guernsey lily – exploded in the garden and the flowering shrubs yielded a good crop of berries for the birds.

As for the ‘unpleasant’ days: well, one was just a day of rain and winds lashing the windows. A friend called round and we enjoyed coffee, conversation and good catch-up for a couple of hours, snug inside. It was almost unbelievable: the previous day had been sunny, warm and so calm that the silence was almost unnerving. Strolling in the garden in the evening, the expected rain seemed unreal.

The second day was in fact a night: strong winds arrived by evening, Force 7, expected to gust to Force 8. But by 11pm it was evident that the wind was much stronger. A north-westerly, the bedroom window received the full brunt of it, so much so that the decorative metal heart which hangs against the glass started to rattle and soon the wooden bower – which was screwed to the wall to stop it banging – also made its presence felt.

The next morning revealed that many trees had come down, blocking roads across the island. I foolishly tried to cycle through the lanes on my way home from school and found myself having to turn around and find an alternative route a total of three times. How I managed to get to school safely, only needing to negotiate the debris of leaves and twigs, is a mystery and it was only afterwards, reading the Guernsey Press, that I realised how difficult the morning commute had been for many people.

Then there were countless bird sightings. First, a grey wagtail, unmistakeable with its long tail, grey upperparts and yellow vent at the base of the tail, hopping around the edge of the motorhome hard-standing. A pair of silver pheasants, strolling through the grounds of one of Guernsey’s many wonderful farmhouses, just a mile or so away. Many other pheasants clucked in the neighbouring fields or delighted with their wonderfully colourful plumage: some of the cock pheasants in particular seemed incredibly tame.

And buzzards. Seven one day: one after an early morning swim, calling above the hill as I cycled up; five circling over the house; and a final buzzard near the airport on a cycle ride. Coming home from school, I glimpsed one sitting on a fence post: as I drew near, it rose lazily into the air, the underside of its wings unusually white. We have seen this one before, around its usual hunting grounds near the riding club which is on my commute to school down ‘Chemin du Roi’ – the Road of the King – which goes past Forest parish cemetery.

As for the greenfinches: a ‘charm’ of finches. They swarmed the hedges, in particular in the field below the ‘lookout’ at Le Grantez mill in Castel. The site, with a ruined mill which was demolished by the Nazis so that their bunker would have an uninterrupted viewpoint, overlooks Vazon. The base of the Victorian mill, which fell into disuse at the beginning of the last century, has recently been rebuilt by prisoners, who have done a marvellous job.

October. Outstanding.

Superb September

 June - to September? What happened to July and August? www.travelswithpickle.blogspot.com, of course!

And so, yes, to September.

Well, we had hoped for an Indian summer on our return to Guernsey, after a wettish, albeit mild Scottish summer: and we got it, in spades.

(In retrospect, hearing about the cold wind here which had prevailed during the month of August, we think we actually had rather a good summer – meteorological records even showing that Scotland experienced warmer and sunnier weather than is normal!)

We got back into the house at the beginning of the month and were grateful for such a long spell of hot, sunny weather that it made washing the laundry, accumulated while we had been away, relatively painless. I even did a couple of loads a day at one point, as the sheets dried in just a couple of hours.

So the month, although it saw my return to work on a couple of days in the week, was full of sea swimming, beach picnics, cliff walks and blackberry picking, not to mention some brilliant cycle rides. The ‘inside’ jobs (of which there are many) were consigned to the Wet Weather List. It was really an attitude which echoed Mole’s “Hang spring-cleaning!” Absolutely.

There were also lots of opportunities to reconnect with friends as we started inviting people round or going out for breakfast, coffee, teas and supper. Marvellous.

Slowly, the house was put back in order, refilling cupboards, emptying cardboard boxes, carefully storing away towels and bedlinens for next year. This is still a lot of de-cluttering, though, that needs to take place. Later, in winter.

Bird sightings: lots of buzzards, occasionally flying low over the hedges as we cycled past but always calling distinctively. A bike ride seemed incomplete without a buzzard encounter. Kestrels, too, swooping above and below the cliff edge.

And rabbits. Too, too many rabbits. We had seen several sick ones – myxomatosis taking its toll – while we were camping at Fauxquets Valley – but the garden rabbits were in altogether very rude health. The warren has a couple of LARGE holes exiting into various spots in the garden and we were treated, one morning, to two large rabbits having a lovely long game of hide and seek right in front of our window. Hmmm.

A couple of sightings of rats, too: far too familiar. Pickle does her best, jumping around in the bushes and flushing them out, but they scamper to safety in a very leisurely manner.

So, back at home after one of the best safaris we have had. It was good to be able to talk, inconsequentially, to all kinds of people in our own language; to meet fellow-wanderers, hearing about amazing places; and to learn all kinds of new things historical, geographical, scientific and just plain awesome. So grateful to have this opportunity...

Just. June.

 June flew by, yet was packed with both challenges and delights.

The first delight was Roseanne and Chris’s wedding, in Scotland, by Zoom. Rosie is Renee Cowan’s delightful granddaughter: very clever, highly capable, high achiever – a CEO of several prestigious companies and charities before she was 40 – and an absolutely sweet, wonderful person. We celebrated with friends, dressing up and enjoying afternoon tea with bubbles.

My time at school entailed much clearing up and clearing out, as I prepared to vacate my classroom and gather planning and resources for the coming year: a day and a half of teaching R.E. (It had also been referred to as a ‘weekly activity’ rather than a part-time position!) Still, it was very satisfying cleaning out cupboards and drawers, and taking cards and posters off the wall around my desk. I photographed most of the little messages which I had kept from the children over the years...I suspect I will find more squirreled away at home, once I embark on The Great Big Tidy Up in September....

Lots of little admin jobs, too: I won’t miss THAT aspect of class teaching. I even had to organise the hoodie order, where the children were each given a hoodie at the end of their time in Year 6. Hardly comes into the realm of teaching responsibilities...

June also saw us spend a LOT of time in the garden. Quite challenging to keep up with all the growth – plants seemed to explode. I’d barely cut one hedge before it sprouted up, inconsiderately, all over again.  While Richard was busy heaving 35kg concrete blocks around to create hardstanding for the motorhome, I took over lawn trimming and hedge cutting... or perhaps lawn cutting and hedge trimming. In any event, the cables for the power tools have survived so far: I think I might have cut the hedge trimmer cable about four times in the last few years. At least Richard had the foresight to install RCD sockets outside.

Found in the bush I chopped down. We replaced the bush with a jasmine: went to buy a Clematis montana only to find there were none to be had! Still, a jasmine has proved to be a welcome addition to the patio...

Hedges which border the road in Guernsey have to be cut, by law, between June 1^st and June 15^th. We were comfortably within that but there was still much frantic activity in the days just before and after the final date, landowners relying on the inability of the constables to get round the lanes quickly enough to catch them out. One afternoon, my journey home was completely blocked by a tractor busily cutting, but more than compensated by the sight of swallows swooping and diving over the hedge, intent on insects, while a large dragon fly escorted me down the lane.

I always think that hedge cutting, though necessary for safety (cycling down some lanes has been rather like entering an underwater tunnel, and quite scary at times as there is no knowing when a vehicle might suddenly appear from the opposite direction), is rather a shame: the profusion of wild flowers is quite incredible. Wild daisies cover the banks with white, replacing the yellow brassicas which have shouted from the field borders over the last couple of months. Pink campion is everywhere; valerian shoots dark pink blossoms from the most unlikely of crevices; and the St PeterPort daisies bloom profusely.

That is just the wildflowers: this year, osteospernum and mesembryanthemum almost hurt the eyes with their brightness, particularly the luminous quality of mesembryanthemum.

Meanwhile, we were busy at home preparing to go away next month and leave the house for guests: quite a mammoth undertaking. It’s a great chance to declutter and springclean, requiring quite a lot of organisation. This year, I was very proud of my ‘changeover’ system, leaving linen, towel, etc particularly neatly organised in boxes, stacked high, for Beth to put out.

Richard was particularly busy, preparing the motorhome and repairing a toilet which had gone out of order. The latter took a great deal of hard work and several days... but at least the hardstanding will take a break until we return in September and there is less pressure to get it finished quickly. All really, really hard work.

Meanwhile: term accelerated to a close. We caught bad colds/sore throats., which meant ringing the Covid helpline, having a PCR test and then waiting for the results. The end of the month. I crawled back into school on July 1^st...