Sunday 28 February 2021

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 3rd 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 2nd – 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.

Wednesday 3 February 2021

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...