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...

June, jumping ahead.

June came and went in glorious technicolour and at breakneck speed.

Firstly, we returned to school. Initially our return was to have been in half classes/classes for half the week... the details being worked out yet changing rapidly. In the end, we returned in socially-distanced whole classes. I and my class had to move out of our classroom into the computer room, sitting so precisely one metre apart that there was, literally, very little wiggle room. Children had to sit back to back or at right angles to one another, forbidden to lean over or towards anyone else. While all were delighted to see and be with their friends again, it was very stressful trying to maintain the distance. There were many minor infringements by accident or, in one or two cases, outright rebellion once or twice. (A quick email to parents soon sorted that one out.)

After a couple of weeks we were allowed to return to normal. Back in the classroom, albeit in a different table formation: this was the last two weeks of school and so I allowed the children to sit where they wanted. That was not without its problems, but we all survived and ended on good terms. In fact, the thank you cards were especially lovely and meaningful this year: what a privilege to feel that I had made a difference to a child's life, helping him navigate another year of schooling to emerge stronger, more mature and happier.

This is why I teach. (And, of course, the satisfaction in promoting Good Grammar. Nothing like it.)

Before the end of term, though was an even more intense than usual helter-skelter ride where we fitted in many end of term events: sports day, an end of term musical performance and tea for the Year 6 parents and even a successful trip to Lihou Island. We stayed the night, playing games, taking photographs, jumping in the Venus Pool (a deep rock pool below the cliffs), dodging nesting sea gulls and even a quick dip in the sea.

Another delightful surprise was the neighbour's middle child, who arrived one Sunday morning with an apologetic and embarrassed air, a bottle of wine and a delightful thank you note:

At home, life was full of cliff walks, cycle rides, cups of tea, meals out, meeting up on the beach... and getting together with friends for breakfast after a gap of several months. Marvellous weather enabled us to enjoy the profusion of wild flowers, fields of pink foxgloves and campion giving way to the white and yellow of ox-eye daisies and chamomile...

Two months without Covid-19 on the island. No more queueing outside shops, nor social distancing inside or around town. Everything opened up and returned back to 'normal'. By the end of the month we felt as if we were in a bubble of protection, a haven in a world of turmoil... with still almost no contact with the outside world...

And Jonny and Adele were still with us, working their socks off, teaching online to the end of term without a break. Teaching had been intense for them since February.

We all looked forward to a week's break after the end of term at the beginning of July...

Marvellous May

The advent of May heralded a new normal, a good settling into routine and the chance for many celebrations.

The three teachers in the house worked intensively with online teaching and pre-recorded lessons. Jonny and Adele began their days with lessons starting at 6.30 am before moving on in the afternoon to prepping for the next batch. For Angie, hours were spent sitting in front of a computer screen, answering queries from students, liaising and meeting online with colleagues or marking assignments. The latter proved to be an absolute nightmare: multiple documents needed to be opened or downloaded, then deciphered. Work was submitted upside down, sideways, out of focus or illegibly faint. What could have taken a minute or two 'in real life' could take up to 10 minutes onscreen, especially when marking maths. How the children expected their teachers to understand their work when questions were not numbered, ot submitted haphazardly in any sort of random order, was a mystery...

Online teaching, was, however, fun in many ways. Individual 'chats' or actual calls with children, helping them with completing or managing their assignments, were very rewarding, albeit not sustainable in real life. Having spent half an hour working through a variety of problems with one child gave me pause for thought: doing that with every pupil would mean a 10 hour working day just on conversations... Some wonderful work was submitted and parents, too, gave feedback on the lessons. Indeed, my Year 2 RE lessons were some of the best planned and most satisfying, for both my pupils and me, which I have delivered for a long time.

There were many benefits to working at home: most of all, the opportunity to be flexible. So lunch breaks were taken sitting on the patio; a cycle ride before work was possible, or a  midday dog walk; and there were many opportunities to take a brief break and then return, refreshed, to a very challenging work situation.

When not working, we took advantage of the weather, which was tremendous: no rainfall at all during the whole month meant clear, sunny mornings, beautiful cliff walks and stunning flowers.

Shopping became a rare occurrence: we ordered online and ventured out only every ten to fourteen days, early in the morning before the queues started. A new rhythm to life...

Two birthdays - Richard's and Adele's - were celebrated in style with, firstly, drinks with Nicky and Richard over the fence, complete with birthday banner, and then, for Adele, a special meal. Pizza night, with the discovery of gluten-free pizza bases. The end of the month saw the first couple of barbecues - happily, we had unwittingly asked Nicky and Richard over on Nicky's birthday, spending a lovely evening together.

May saw us move out of lockdown: May 3rd, in fact, was the first day with no new Covid-19 cases on the island and by May 27th there were no active cases at all. (Nicky kept notes of all the data in her diary, updating it every day as numbers of active cases dropped.) We moved from total lockdown, where we were allowed out only for essential, infrequent shopping, medical visits, and a maximum of two hours of exercise, first to four hours of exercise and then the possibility of 'bubbling' with another household, where we were allowed to meet up in each others' homes without having to maintain any kind of distance from one another. After that, we were allowed to 'bubble' with two other households as well... and then: no bubbles at all, but unlimited meetings with any one else as long as we maintained a metre distance in our homes and gardens and two metres in public places, gathering in groups of any size up to a maximum of 30. Non-essential shops and businesses prepared to open, and schools were given permission to return after the half term break. But that is next month's story....

April advances...

Because of Covid-19 and all the ramifications, implications and consequent connotations associated with it, April began with uncertainty and a certain degree of unhappiness and dis-ease. As Jonny and Adele adjusted to their stay in Guernsey - hindered by the mandatory fourteen day confinement to house and garden of self-isolation - there were many factors all shouting for their position in all our hearts.

I can't say which was most prominent. Concerns varied, not just from day to day but sometimes from hour to hour. Feelings of constraint; unknowns about the future, both immediate and further off; difficulties in creating online lessons. Too many 'topics' within those categories to even begin listing. Perhaps one day. The conversations of 'not', 'probably not' and 'maybe not' occur in my head as I am gardening. too much to verbalise in concrete words, remaining as fleeting thoughts which permeated my entire being.

And, of course, the uncertainty and unknown changes constantly.

Stressful.

And yet. And yet: there were many, many joys. The comfort and delight in being together as family. Frequent photos from or chats with Cat, Cara and Andy. The beautiful  house and garden we are privileged to share. Escape on cliff path walks or cycle rides through the lanes. The satisfaction of being involved in gardening, tidying up, catching up on long-neglected projects. Creativity in creating, whether it be online lessons, writing, drawing or painting. Even a little crochet project, hats for Cara and her 'bubba' doll. And, of course, online meetings and chats with colleagues and friends, keeping connected.

I was drawn to Twitter and the BBC for information, to instagram and facebook for encouragement. (One of the many positives is the immense humour of funny cartoons and stories and the creative inspiration of many around the world as they deal with the fallout of the virus.)

Above all else, there was time to listen: to wisdom online; to praise and worship music; to the goldfinches singing at breakfast, the thrush at lunch, the blackbird giving his heart in the evening. Buzzards called overhead while gulls shriekeded as they swoop and dived around the cliffs. A kestrel hovered.

At the beginning of the month there was time to stop and stare, to pause and pen a few words, to reflect and respond. We advanced, one day at a time...

Easter arrived, Holy Week a reflective, quiet time. These days were for filling my time, as much as I could, with praise and worship and wise words. Easter Sunday up for sunrise overlooking the cliffs with #lectio365. Watched Alive church from NZ online; then HTB Easter service: and then our own church's short recorded service. Emmaus Rd was up on my screen but didn't get round to it - hopefully, recorded. Moving on to Louie Giglio at Passion City Atlanta today and Spring Harvest. The world seemed too strange to feel at ease with 'normal' activities...

April accelerated. Before I knew it, we were at the end of the month. The latter two weeks had been all-consumed with online teaching. There was room for little else in the day, save for preparing and eating meals and trying to manage exercise. Work days were sometimes 12 hours long...

Yet we managed. Slowly, the software became more familiar; the demands of children and parents less, as they settled into the new regime; and my mind became more focused as the curriculum once more came alive with the new term. There were many encouraging emails; satisfying conversations, both in chat and in real-life calls; and light moments. As a team, we worked together, helping and supporting one another.

There were still sociable moments: WhatsApp calls and chats, tea with dear Nicky Over the Hedge, bumping into friends as we went on cycle rides or the rare shopping errand.

We settled into this New Normal which, for us having lived (or, in J and A's case, are living) in Africa, is not so different where social opportunities are far and few between. We enjoyed the time all together - a gift; skyped frequently with Cara, who now asks to speak to her 'Yaya' and the 'derg' - her grandmother and the dog; and rejoiced in spring coming and every piece of good news around Covid-19.

Because, when all is said and done, there is much good news in our world.

March Mayhem

The rain continued on into March. The rain continues on into March. The rain will very likely, most probably, perhaps certainly, continue on into March.

Four storms within a couple of weeks, dumping copious amounts of water onto our tiny rock of granite stuck in the English Channel. The peak was during the night of March 4th, where we awoke the following day to flooding.

My commute - normally 25 minutes - took 50, as I had to turn back twice before finding a lane which was not barred by a deep pond. (I may have stopped for a few minutes to photograph and film. Who wouldn't?) The first one, at the bottom of Donkey Hill, was a flooded valley, water stretching up across the fields as far as the eye could see. There was a handy abreveur situated there, manfully doing its best to channel water safely into an underground douit, but it was outclassed. The water was so deep that I didn't dare expose the electrics on the bicycle. I did, eventually, sail through a relatively shallow puddle, holding my breath and coasting across gently. To have turned around would have added yet another ten minute ride.

Meanwhile, at home, the flooded vege patch/firewood stack had spread all the way across the far side of the garden, the patio around the shed boasting an inch of water. The ground had been soggy for weeks but this was the last straw. Or the last few hundred gallons, I suppose. There was absolutely nowhere for the water to drain and it was, in any case, being topped up by water flowing from the (slightly higher) field next door.

My neighbour, Dear Nicky Next Door, started pumping out her well in the hope that the ground water would then flow into it. Richard went out and bought a pump, dug a trench and sank it into the ground. (We have great plans to dig a soakaway so that we are more prepared next time and can start to pump water before it gets to surface aka crisis level.) It took a couple of days, but the level in the flower beds started to subside, the water disappearing although the soil was still soggy. I fear for my little apple tree... the camellias, the pittosporum and the hydrangeas... but will just have to Wait And See.

We had a slight 'discussion' as to whether the dehumidifier, or leaving the shed wide open to the drying wind, was the best way of drying out the shed before it started to rot. Compromised for a bit of both.

Then we paused, and waited for the rain to stop.

Meanwhile, at school... parents' evenings looming; parents taking their children out of school on holiday, with an hour's notice, in one case; parents voicing their opinions. Sometimes, all those years of professional training and experience, not to mention successfully parenting two wonderful human beings, seems irrelevant and I obviously (in some quarters) really do not have anything to say about how A Particular Child is best taught. Hmmm.

March mayhem? Indeed. But 'in like a lion, out like a lamb'. Spring is most definitely coming as flowers start to erupt on the grassy banks. Celandines flood yellow everywhere I look; primroses stud the banks; violets hide in the hedgerows.

Then, of course, the mayhem rapidly accelerated as Covid-19 took over. Have documented thoughts elsewhere, but by the end of the month we were almost self-isolating, with a lockdown imposed by Guernsey. Not to mention Jonny and Adele occupying our newly-created tiny 'guest wing'. I'm quite proud of the lovely little suite of rooms I have created...

So, here we are. The days are getting longer - in many ways. The sun is brighter: and we try to stay bright, trusting that God will bring about great good and His glory in an overwhelmed, panic-stricken, helpless world.