We have waited a long time for April to arrive. April 11th, 1pm, in fact: the date and time at which Cara Grace arrived in Guernsey, and the date and time of our first meeting her. So long anticipated.
In the meantime, school wound down to a close with a production of the Wind in the Willows and lessons - my favourite - on the meaning of Easter. Beyond bunnies and eggs, trying to give the children some idea of what Jesus is all about. We watched The Miracle Maker, this animation still one of the best retelling of Luke's gospel there is. Every time, I gain a different insight into Jesus and His story.
Holidays, then. Time to catch up at home and prepare for A Guest Baby. Kind friends lent a cot; a travel cot; a highchair. A colleague gave me some wonderfully complicated and colourful baby toys. I bought a secondhand pushchair, a nappy rucksack, nappies, clothes and other wonderful baby items.
The bright pink crocheted headband, octopus and Rodent Of Unusual Size (should have been an elephant, but looked more like a ROUS from The Princess Bride, and it is never too early to teach a child the value of this iconic film...) lay proudly in wait on the changing table (also acquired through a baby items Facebook page), the tea tray waited in the guest room for her parents...
WhatsApp messages heralded their progress from the other side of the globe, Cara charming all with her radiant, open-mouthed smiles: every new person is a complete delight. And then they were here.
My heart is too full, this day at the end of the month after we have said our tearful goodbyes, to remember it all. The weeks were a blur of playing, talking, laughing, walking... Bex, Andy's sister, came to visit for a few days as we enjoyed family time together. Cold enough at the beginning of the month for a log fire, warm enough to sit outside for afternoon tea a few days later. Cara discovering flowers and plants...how to grasp things firmly with both tiny hands; how to stand up strongly AND bend her knees so she could sit down again (a learned skill, apparently); beginning to roll over, sit up - with help; a first exploratory taste of mashed banana; attaining the Five Months mark.
Precious, precious girl; precious, precious family times. How much we love them all.
The end of the month saw us all travel over to Dorset for Mags' and Louis' wedding. Beautiful couple in the beautiful location of Abbotsbury Sub-Tropical gardens. Delightful venue, laid-back outdoor ceremony and interesting table guests. Our own table included house-sitters (the name banked in my memory as a useful future contact); an oceanographer; an engineer working on under-sea drones submarines; a vegan food blogger...and we met so many other charming, interesting people. Fun.
Then it was time to say good-bye, putting our darling family on the train to Gatwick, the first leg of their return journey to Auckland. We distracted ourselves with a little supermarket shopping as we waited for the ferry, before returning to Guernsey. I jumped straight out of the car to school...lovely to be back, with a warm welcome from my friendly colleagues. Back into busy busyness...reports loom.
But that's next month....
Showing posts with label April 2019. Show all posts
Showing posts with label April 2019. Show all posts
Friday, 3 May 2019
Friday, 5 April 2019
No chicken.
As well as peace, calm and quiet, living in the country offers moments of hilarity. Such was the case when our dear neighbours went away this week, leaving Richard In Charge Of Chickens. Or, more accurately, In Charge Of Putting Chickens To Bed. (And getting them up again in the morning.)
Sounded easy. Go round just before dusk, encourage the hens into their houses, shut the door and Avoid The Cockerel.
The cockerel, apparently, had a penchant for attack legs.
My husband is a farm boy. Chickens and roosters hold no fear for him. No problem.
So, the first day, as he put his fluorescent yellow cycling jacket on (garment of choice for every outdoor activity), I said: "You need to take the broom with you. Remember, Nicky warned you that you needed a broom or a rake to fend off the cockerel?"
"Oh, I won't need that," was the insouciant reply.
There was a little more conversation after that, as I reminded him that Nicky had warned about the cockerel Several Times, but he still went off unarmed. Oh well.
He was away a surprisingly long time. This is how it went:
Two hens were already in their house, so he shut it up and started to encourage the others to go in to the other house. Oh no. No way were they going in there, so he had to open up the first house again whereupon the other hens scuttled out of it.
It took quite some time to get them all inside. So absorbing was this task, that Richard forgot about the rooster, until a sudden stabbing pain in his shin caused him to leap a couple of feet in the air. The rooster had rushed out from behind the chicken house and grasped his leg with its vicious, razor-sharp, spur claws.
Here, let us remind ourselves that Richard is tall and incredibly lean, resembling a human daddy-long-legs. As he leapt about, shaking the rooster off, the bird instantly trying to attack once more, he managed to take off his jacket, using it as a defensive barrier between him and the bird. The jacket's virulent yellow, fortunately, seemed to deter it and he managed to avoid both further attack AND to get the cockerel safely inside with the rest of the chickens.
The whole performance - Richard capering around the hen houses in the middle of our neighbour's field - was duly watched and admired by our friends whose house overlooks. They refrained from videoing the proceedings - sadly. But the telling of the story becomes more hilarious every time ....
Not quite Death By Chicken.
Sounded easy. Go round just before dusk, encourage the hens into their houses, shut the door and Avoid The Cockerel.
The cockerel, apparently, had a penchant for attack legs.
My husband is a farm boy. Chickens and roosters hold no fear for him. No problem.
So, the first day, as he put his fluorescent yellow cycling jacket on (garment of choice for every outdoor activity), I said: "You need to take the broom with you. Remember, Nicky warned you that you needed a broom or a rake to fend off the cockerel?"
"Oh, I won't need that," was the insouciant reply.
There was a little more conversation after that, as I reminded him that Nicky had warned about the cockerel Several Times, but he still went off unarmed. Oh well.
He was away a surprisingly long time. This is how it went:
Two hens were already in their house, so he shut it up and started to encourage the others to go in to the other house. Oh no. No way were they going in there, so he had to open up the first house again whereupon the other hens scuttled out of it.
It took quite some time to get them all inside. So absorbing was this task, that Richard forgot about the rooster, until a sudden stabbing pain in his shin caused him to leap a couple of feet in the air. The rooster had rushed out from behind the chicken house and grasped his leg with its vicious, razor-sharp, spur claws.
Here, let us remind ourselves that Richard is tall and incredibly lean, resembling a human daddy-long-legs. As he leapt about, shaking the rooster off, the bird instantly trying to attack once more, he managed to take off his jacket, using it as a defensive barrier between him and the bird. The jacket's virulent yellow, fortunately, seemed to deter it and he managed to avoid both further attack AND to get the cockerel safely inside with the rest of the chickens.
The whole performance - Richard capering around the hen houses in the middle of our neighbour's field - was duly watched and admired by our friends whose house overlooks. They refrained from videoing the proceedings - sadly. But the telling of the story becomes more hilarious every time ....
Not quite Death By Chicken.
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