Super September

September 2023

The month began really well – still in France! Didn’t return to Guernsey until the 3^rd, to glorious hot weather. My birthday was the hottest I can remember and, in a bonus, I was not at school!

So of course I went blackberry picking and then for a half km swim in the sea at Rocquaine.

The blackberry picking started quite well. However, the Pleinmont brambles are among the most unfriendly and inhospitable I have yet to meet. They tried to hide any juicy, ripe blackberries under prickles and behind nettles; thorns came at my fingers unseen, swiping hard and leaving thorns buried deep under the skin; and each spray of berries only yielded one or two ripe ones, the rest remaining stubbornly hard, red and unripe.

I persevered, but my heart wasn’t in it. I usually love the mindfulness of blackberry-picking, along with the silence, but that day I encountered a coachload of cruise ship passengers coming from the gun, a group of serious elderly men, striding along with walking poles, and a couple of German tourists I recognised from the ferry over from France. Still, it was lovely to be able to do it and rarely go to Pleinmont headland, so nice to have a different adventure.

On the way to the beach, I decided to go down a narrow footpath to a friend’s field. When we had open air church in July, I had noticed quite a few brambles in the hedgerows and so thought it would be a good place to investigate. I gathered a few along the lanes as I went there and by the time I had finished, had a 2 litre boxful – enough for a start on the Great Jam Making of the season. So all was going, well, until I took a Wrong Turning and ended up in a part of the woods I had never ever been before.

It was around midday when I started on My Great Birthday Adventure. I was lucky to get out before darkness fell….

I knew the general direction to go – downhill – so off I went. The path became progressively steeper and rockier, winding around in circles until suddenly some steep steps appeared. No other way to go – except back and up. No ordinary steps either, but ones made for giants, hewn out of granite and put in at irregular angles. The rain had evidently tried to find its own way down, carving out gullies at the side, but that was of no help to me as I carefully hauled my heavy bike, hand firmly on the brake, down beside me.

It just got worse. Eventually I could see tarmac, but at that point there was only the narrowest of footpaths – me or the bike, and of course the bike won – and to even step down onto tarmac was pretty difficult. Then, on the last metre, as I had managed to step down and was about to lift the bike down after me – said bike refused. A hefty branch had come out of nowhere and stuck its fingers between the bike’s spokes, halting it very effectively.

That took quite a bit of time to disentangle.

Even Richard, who often walks the dog in the general area, had no idea where I had been.

Otherwise, we spent the first week busily unpacking the house and catching up on huge machine-loads of washing. The ironing, of course, is another matter… I may be finished by Christmas.

Not joking. Having got back to school for a day, I found myself taking on supply in Year 6 for a colleague away ill. Diving in at the beginning of term wasn’t ideal for me or for the children, disappointed not to be getting ‘their’ new teacher, but they are a lovely class and we all got on well together. It was a bit of a juggling act with my usual day and a half, but the weather was kind and I enjoyed being back in the classroom with agreeable children, teaching a variety of subjects – including P.E., organised by my lovely colleague Pete who gave me lesson plans and great ideas. I had taught all the children before in their way up the school, so it all seemed quite easy. What was especially lovely was that the management were very grateful to me for stepping in, going as far as to give me a card and a huge bunch of flowers. Quite unnecessary, but much appreciated.

All useful pocket money… so we decided to go to Tanzania in December to see Finn and his parents. Deep breath – the flights were three times the price we paid for them just after Covid – but it seemed a good opportunity.

In other news: I hosted a ladies breakfast, after an eighteen month gap. There were a dozen of us – almost too many to fit in the dining room, but the weather was so hot that we sat outside, although we needed to retreat into the shade as the morning progressed. It felt really good to reconnect with friends old and new, gathering together around the table…

We had an ‘old’ friend, Peter, come to visit. His primary purpose was to experience the Guernsey Air Show, which he was able to do in stunningly clear and warm weather. He was absolutely thrilled by it all and hugely appreciative of everything he did, especially the Air Show, the German Occupation Museum and the Little Chapel. We even managed an evening beach barbeque with a marvellous sunset!

And the swimming! Still ‘warm’ – 18 degrees – and so I managed quite a few swims down at Rocquaine, even in the evening after work when it was beginning to get much cooler.  Such wonderful exercise.

The month passed quickly… by the end of it, had almost straightened the house out after the summer away, although still lots of little niggly projects to get done, and a mountain of ironing…as well as dealing with piles of windfalls collected on hedge veg. I expanded my repertoire of apple recipes very rapidly!  The Rugby World Cup had started, so proved to be wonderful entertainment while I got some of these chores underway…and more to come next month.

Autumn hadn’t, yet, arrived. The weather stayed remarkably warm, with some days so hot and sunny that we could sit outside – Wendy and Nicholas were down in Guernsey from Glasgow and we were able to sit on the patio over an alfresco lunch all afternoon, catching up and sharing our lives… a precious friendship. I finished my spell of supply – it had been great fun, with a wonderful class and the added bonus of being able to feel more part of the school and connect with my colleagues on a more regular basis than I am able to normally, only coming in for a day and a half each week. The gardening jobs were slowly completed and I began to catch up with friends once more.

A very different pace from the previous two months, but hugely enjoyable. Being busy is energising. Yet we still had time to enjoy moonlit evenings and see the super-bright morningstar, our house’s namesake, shining in the eastern dawn.

Traffic - me on the bike, and one car - stopped when this friendly moggy occupied the centre of the road. He moved off to greet my bike with ecstatic purrs and much rubbing against the wheels.

Duck jam on my way down the lane.

Pickle sitting outside the guestroom, mournfully hoping that Peter will appear.

It's still summer outside church!

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. 

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....

November. Never Such Innocence.

The big news in November, was, inevitably, my visit to Buckingham Palace. As a guest. Wow.

Even now, it seems like a dream. I can’t say ‘a dream come true’ because I had never in my entire life dreamed of going inside Buckingham Palace, let alone as an invited guest.

I am more than a little embarrassed about it all because, initially, I didn’t take it seriously.

The invitation from Never Such Innocence to its Centenary Finale at Buckingham Palace, arrived by email, personally addressing me by name and telling me how important it was that I should attend.

I ignored it. Actually, that is not entirely true. The invitation first popped in to my inbox as a ‘save the date’ and I did indeed look up the date, some months in advance. When I saw that it fell on a weekday when I would be at work, I dismissed it: I assumed I would not be able to attend. Indeed, I did not realise the personal nature of the invitation.

I don't know what I was thinking. I mean, BUCKINGHAM PALACE! It's not every day or indeed any day that you get an invite like that.

Then the actual invitation arrived, asking me to RSVP so that I could receive my entry ticket. I ignored it again. Even though it was addressed to me personally, I just assumed that it was one of the clever emails which are sent to thousands, with the name of the recipient cunningly inserted for each one.

Then the events organiser phoned the school where I teach, asking me to phone him. I forgot. It was only when I received a ‘last chance’ email that I realised that I should, perhaps, let my headteacher know about the invitation: perhaps he would go to the tea party?

Well, he couldn’t. He wanted to, of course, but the invitation was to me personally. Why?

Not because I am anyone important, or special in any way.  I was personally invited just for doing my job.

As a Year 6 class teacher, I had planned lessons and sent off the children’s entries for an international art and poetry competition organised by a charity set up to promote understanding of the First World War, for the four centenary years. The first year, one of our children achieved a prize as a runner up and again, a couple of years later, so did another. To celebrate and ‘wind up’ the project, the organising charity had arranged to host a tea party at Buckingham Palace, inviting the prize winners and those teachers who had supported the initiative.

To say I was excited is an understatement. I was BEYOND excited. I have never – and am still not – been impressed by celebrities. Rather, my childhood heroes were people such as Albert Schweitzer, who dedicated his life to serving others in the Congo, or others who sacrificed their own ambitions to help those in need or those who, like Connie Ten Boom, endured horrendous suffering and preached forgiveness. But, somehow, this was different. This was an invitation to somewhere which cannot be bought or achieved through effort and striving. The invitation was a purely gracious, unearned gift.

I really didn’t think it applied to me. As my brother asked, somewhat incredulously, when I recounted how I had only accepted the invitation at the very last minute when it was clear that I really WAS invited, “Didn’t you think you deserved to go?”

Well, no, I didn’t. I really didn’t think I did deserve such an honour.

I was right. I didn’t really deserve it, but, in the end, I did accept with delight. Yes, I suppose you could say I ‘earned’ the invitation because I taught the lessons, helped the children with their work and sent in the competition entries. Yet my hard work could have gone unrewarded – indeed, there were many teachers who were not invited. I had no control over whether or not I could enter the palace.

Nevertheless, once my head graciously gave me permission (and authorised the purchase of my air ticket!), it was all I could think of. 

I felt like a child again, waiting for The Day to arrive. As it was, I barely slept the night before, getting up eventually at 5 to catch the red-eye from Guernsey. I managed – country hick that I am – to find my way up to London, with the help of delightful rail officials. 

About to enter through the outer gates....

So, there I was, approaching the main gate, showing my entry card and passport to the policemen on duty before joining the crocodile of people walking across the gravel to the ‘front door’ and in to the quadrangle. We filed our way across the quadrangle and through the Grand Entrance to the west-facing garden façade at the rear of the palace, greeted with a fanfare from a brass quintet (from the Coldstream Guards, according to the programme) before we deposited our coats to smiling girls, leaving phones and cameras with them: No Photography Allowed.

A visit to the Ladies’ Cloakroom downstairs – quiet, thickly piled carpet – was a surprise. The ‘Water Closet’ seemed Victorian, being like a commode with a dark wooden seat and a separate flushing system, whereby one pulled up a handle in a recessed bowl next to the toilet seat. Fascinating. One of many ‘wish I had a camera’ moments.

We then made our way along a wide, carpeted corridor. The opening of the Olympic Games in London showed Her Majesty walking along just such a corridor with James Bond.... Then up the Grand Staircase and along the Picture Gallery, which is top-lit and 55 yards long. The Gallery is hung with numerous works of Queen Victoria and her family, including some by Rembrandt, van Dyck, Rubens and Vermeer ...huge paintings which I had only seen in books. Several of them were ones we had used in our recent Year 6 project on Queen Victoria – how strange to see them, hugely larger than life, in reality.  The RAF Salon Orchestra entertained us with music for string instruments as we waited to be registered, before we entered the Ballroom.

It was HUGE. Six massive crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, which was ornately carved and painted in white and gold, with carvings on the arches above the two thrones at the far end of the room, a minstrels gallery and massive organ at the back.

The Ballroom is the largest and most important room in the palace, built in 1856. 120 feet long, nearly 60 feet wide and 44 feet high. State banquet and investitures are held here: Prince William had, indeed, performed some in this very room that same morning, standing on the same spot as the children did when they performed their poems and songs. Velvet upholstered chairs were set out in the middle of the room, but I was fortunate enough to be seated on the upper tier of a (velvet upholstered) bench, affording me a wonderful view of the proceedings.

(And let me say now that any further description is all thanks to Wikipedia. I barely took in all the magnificence in detail, so bemused was I by the grandeur of the palace.)

The proceedings began with a drum display by the Royal Marines Drums Corps: indeed, these five drummers performed a real ‘drum roll’ before every child’s performance.

The presentations were a lovely mixture of messages from adults and a celebration of the children’s work which was, indeed, the main focus of the afternoon. Lady Lucy French, founder of Never Such Innocence, spoke charmingly, extending many thank yous to all those who had helped in the last four years: including the teachers - 40 of us had been invited. Sir Tim Laurence, the President of NSI, welcomed us. Statements from various Secretaries of State were read out, including a statement from the Prime Minister, Theresa May. There were messages from high-ranking officers in the Forces. And the many songs and poems performed by the children – including one from a five year old, speaking the poem she had composed when she was still only three – were, at times, incredibly moving.

Afterwards, we were directed to the Blue Drawing Room, the Music Room and the Green Room for afternoon tea. Filled with priceless Chinese vases, hung with huge portraits, these very formal rooms are astoundingly opulent: it was no surprise to learn that they are used only for ceremonial and official entertaining.

The people I met were, mainly, the children and their parents: they were delightful. Their art and poetry has been published in a beautiful book: so much talent.11,000 competition entries over the four years.

(I encountered a few important adults: the commander of the Wellington Barracks at the Horse Guards Parade, and a Jesuit priest, Father Anthony Nye who, to my great delight, knew  another Jesuit, Fr Bernard Basset, who had been a great encouragement to me as a questioning teenager, mainly through his books which I still own. (Fr Bernard was priest on the Isles of Scilly when I was growing up in the 70s: I knew him from my summer visits, enjoying visiting his tiny church on St Mary's. In those early ecumenical times, he had a garden bench with two labels on: ‘Protestant’ at one end and ‘Catholic’ at the other. Fr Bernard insisted on sitting in the middle...)

It was wonderful that the emphasis of the day was, quite rightly, on the children: they were introduced to Sir Tim, posed for photos with men resplendent in uniform, even trying on a busby for size on their little heads...

I can barely describe the sense of honour and privilege I felt, which was, I think, shared by most of the other guests. (There were, of course, those so distinguished that it was certainly not the first time they had been invited to the palace, Sir Tim Lawrence of course predominant among them.) I felt most incredibly ‘special’ that was not personal in any way: nothing I had done, no sense of pride or accomplishment. Just a sense of receiving an undeserved honour and of being invited into the highest place in the land. It was mindblowing to think that the Queen was elsewhere in the building.... It was all magical, like something out of a fairy tale...

So, a few days later, I am still reeling from the experience. One delightful thing I take away is that I was just.doing.my.job.  I use it as example for the children: perhaps a boy feels unimportant because he is playing a back in the B team when he longs to be captain of the A team. “Just do your job,” I tell the children. “Do your job as well as you can, and better. For who knows where it might take you?”

Certainly I had never, ever, dreamed, in all my years of teaching, that simply doing my job as a teacher would take me to Buckingham Palace. Wow. Indeed.

Jaunty June

This has to be the best month of the year. Spring has exploded into summer, the air is warm and the sun is shining - most days, it seems. Flowers are EVERYWHERE.

Drooping over the patio from our neighbours' garden.

Tree hydrangea

I am amazed at how quickly June is flying  by. The cycle commute to school has changed, as the hedges and banks which, at the beginning of the month were towering over my head, have been cut. It does make cycling down the lanes safer... I can now see vehicles coming, although the tractors which tear round the island are somewhat daunting....

One day, a magpie hopped insouciantly along the bank by my shoulder, so close I could see its wing feathers; a cock pheasant strutted his stuff at the edge of a field, just a couple of metres away from me, quite unconcerned; then, as I took one of my favourite back lanes near home, I saw a buzzard dive down and land at the edge of the field. He hadn't seen me, so I quietly drifted to a halt and climbed the ban to peep over. He flew up, almost in my face, yellow legs dangling as he slowly flapped white-patched wings towards the nearest tree before continuing on across the meadow. mobbed by two crows who pursued him with tremendous determination until he had safely left the area.

Goldfinches swoop busily in and out of the trees and bushes which blackbirds fly low-level across the garden, assiduously digging for worms in the early morning. Thrushes shriek from our neighbour's tree, almost deafening at times. A baby chaffinch rested thankfully on the bird table, its parent perched anxiously above it while it caught its breath.

There was other wildlife, too. Sawfly larvae emerged and started chomping away at the Solomon's Seal, effectively stripping the leaves. Nature's pruning. I started off the season by trying to remove them, before giving up: perhaps they would be food for the birds... but not before the leaves had been stripped to bare stems...

Inbetween bird watching, I teach; read the incredible World War 2 adventure stories the children have written; help them put together a 'museum' of all the incredible work they have done this term; help a group of girls created miniature Guernsey landmarks for our wheelbarrow 'garden'. Our entry this year for the annual schools' gardening wheelbarrow competition is a living 'map' of our island, surrounded by a beaches of bright yellow tagetes and a sea of trailing blue and white lobelia....  Our school 'garden' has now been converted into an outdoor learning area, so no more gardening club for me...

And lastly: Activities' Week. This year, I was fortunate to be with Year 4, 'supervising' them at the beach while they attended Surf School. Apart from a couple of misty, windy mornings, we sat in blazing sunshine, rejoicing over every successful attempt at standing up on the board. It was a blessing, too, to get to know colleagues who normally pass by briefly in the staffroom, as we don't usually work together. My journey down on the bike afforded me wonderful views of the coastline as I navigated the lanes. 30 minutes freewheeling downhill....40 - 50 minutes back up again....

View from the lookout at Le Grantez: site of a former windmill, a Napoleonic era fort and a German defence fortification.

A jack rabbit rests in the shade...

Vazon bay. #tropical

Then, as if I didn't have enough to do, we started making kombucha: fermented tea. Boy, reading the instructions and researching on the internet took hours of my life, but eventually I combined tea, sugar and hot water, letting it cool before gently inserting the mushroom-like 'SCOBY'. Waited a few days, then decanted the sweet fizzy drink. It was actually quite tasty... Now, can we keep it alive and going over the next couple of hot summer months...?

The SCOBY from above. Symbiotic Culture Of Bacteria and Yeast. So there we are.