Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts

Friday, 10 February 2023

November, Christmas, packing, February, baby, family....Catching up!!

It’s been a while since recording monthly/periodical life updates. Due mainly to computer glitches, but also inertia and busyness….

So 2022, after a summer Travelling With Pickle, ended in preparations for a whole family Christmas visit. In between my regular day and a half of R.E. teaching, this academic year only from Year 2 to Year 5 – quite a welcome change – and some supply teaching in a local school just ten minutes’ cycle away, I sourced clothing and equipment for the small people who would be coming to visit.

A neighbour put a child’s plastic table and chair outside their house, for the taking; I picked up a car seat and children’s cycle helmets for free on the OLIO recycling app  and bought a tricycle from a Facebook group; borrowed travel cots, more car seats, boxes of toys and Duplo and even children’s crockery and table ware from kind friends; and visited a charity shop (GO – giving opportunities for young people into work – selling all kinds of things from toys to toilets, books to bathtubs, fashion to furnitures…) for a bicycle and other useful items.

It involved quite a lot of trawling through buy and sell groups on Facebook and visiting local charity shops, but eventually I felt we were well-enough prepared.

The six weeks that the New Zealand contingent visited, from the end of November until early January, were full on, with all kinds of activities organised for very active children. Sadly, the weather meant that there were not many days where an extended play time on the beach was possible, but the library was wonderful, the swimming pool always a popular option and a couple of visits from Cat’s best and closest school friends provided entertainment as well.

In the middle, a week or so before Christmas, the Tanzanian family arrived, Finn meeting his girl cousins for the first time. We celebrated three birthdays within four weeks: first, Cara’s 4 years, with a pink palace cake, liberally decorated with sprinkles; then Finn’s 1st, with a blue theme, balloons and a sheep cake in honour of his favourite toy; and Rosie celebrated turning 2 with a teddy bear, made from a mould sourced in our favourite charity shop, or ‘op shop’, as it is known in New Zealand.

Then add Christmas into the mix… stockings with a selection of all kinds of interesting gifts. Rosie in particular loved opening presents, regardless of who they belonged to. The joys of a 2 year old. During the weeks they were all here we delighted in the progress they made: Finn beginning to walk (although it was at least a month after they returned home that he really began to branch out, although a wooden toy tricycle was invaluable as a balancing aid); Rosie’s language developed exponentially as she began to string words together into intelligible phrases, no mean feat for her age; and Cara’s creativity in everything she approached, whether solving a puzzle or negotiating a particular need or desire with her parents.

All too soon, their visit was over and the house was empty. We consoled ourselves with a concerted attack on housework and putting the house to rights again, giving away toys and children’s furniture and returning the borrowed items… the potty and child step stool  from Sarah had been particular godsends: not sure how we would have managed without them… January and February also saw us intentionally catch up with friends, inviting many round for meals.

I also found myself teaching at another nearby school, all with delightful – and alarmingly young (!) – teachers. It’s not a long-term profession any more… the tales from the UK in particular are of extreme stress and pressure caused by Ofsted resulting in mental breakdown or even, in one horrific case, in suicide of a headteacher because of a poor (and seemingly unjustified) Ofsted result.

The supply experience, though, has been great, and I particularly like the children in my ‘new’ school. I have even found myself enjoying Reception… helped no doubt by my experience with Cara, a year younger. It’s very convenient, too: there is usually time to pop home at lunchtime to see Richard, even when on my bicycle.

All too soon, half term arrived and with it our departure for New Zealand. We had decided, back in November even before Cat and family arrived, that we would try to go to visit them to help with the new baby, expected February 22nd. Miraculously, as soon as I asked my head, he gave his consent for me to take unpaid leave for the second half of the term. (His last words to me, when we had a conversation about my renewing my contract back in June 2022, had been that he ‘didn’t want someone who would disappear off to New Zealand for 6 weeks’…!)

It had been quite hectic leaving all the lessons planned for and prepared in advance. It is always more time-consuming to leave detailed plans for others to deliver than to actually do the work oneself, especially as I had no idea who would be teaching my lessons.

It had all been an interesting process. Covid – and lockdown, staying in place for a couple of years – had left a legacy of finding it hard to contemplate travel. We had, of course, gone off in the motorhome but in many ways it felt like staying ‘at home’. Air travel, on the other hand, seemed like quite a big step. Even the logistics of getting from Gatwick to Heathrow and then to our hotel overnight seemed tricky. Still, we managed to get the coach booked in advance at good times to allow for delays (although there were none) and managed to negotiate our way through the vagaries of the buses of the London Transport System to get to the Radisson hotel at Terminal 3. It was all well worth it – the hotel was very comfortable and had a swimming pool, which we took advantage of both in the evening and early morning before we left for our flight.

Once at the airport, all seemed familiar again. Virgin Atlantic to San Francisco kept us very well-fed (I lost count of how many meals they served us and even the gluten-free options were good) and entertained; the transfer was incredibly easy and hassle-free, with no queues at passport control and a delightfully friendly official; and then easy baggage check-in and comfortable armchairs to wait in with a view over the airport apron to the surrounding hills. After that, Air New Zealand was as wonderful as we remembered and we felt surprisingly ‘untired’ when we finally arrived in Auckland to be met by Andy’s brother John: Daughter No. 3 had arrived, just as Daughters Nos 1 and 2 had, a day early, 12 hours before we touched down. Elsie Joy, 3.6kg.

We were delighted to be there and be of help. The weeks passed in a blur of entertaining pre-schoolers, holding the baby and keeping up with a constant stream of washing up, cooking, laundry and cleaning.

Entertainment included roughie time on the trampoline with Yaya and, occasionally, Moomoo (no idea where Cara came up with that name as she was learning to talk, but it has stuck). I learnt to recognise the early warning signs which were precursor to Rosie launching herself, with some violence, at me – and adorning Moomoo with pegs. The girls were crafty: they stripped off all their clothes so they couldn’t be ‘pegged’  back. Most games went well, with only a few tears… #result.

We – I and the girls – spent a lot of time on the trampoline which Rosie, in particular, absolutely adores. She was incredibly entertaining with it, ordering me around with great enjoyment: “I go out now. You stay,” with a backwards glance as she marched off into the house to ensure that I had followed instructions with a further “Don’t get out.” It has been an absolute delight to see her language developing in leaps and bounds over the last couple of months.

Particularly memorable words have been the ‘Hello’ series, developed on a car journey home one day. “Hello cars!” extended to the favourite “Hello cucumber” which became her ‘go to’ phrase. Jumping on the trampoline together one day, my hair flying up as I bounced, inspired her to yell “Hello Yaya’s hair!”. Constantly inventive, she used words with glee as soon as she learned them – Andy’s phrase of ‘Hoolibah’ was instantly adopted.

Cat leads the local Playcentre, a venue with an enormous range of creative activities which all the parents involved take turns in leading, and this is evident in the house. The list of ‘what to do when I feel bored’ is impressively long, including ‘cups of tea and a chat’ and ‘drawing with chalk’ – the house has a wonderful paved strip just behind it which houses the Dow girls’ mud kitchen, a sandpit, numerous bikes and scooters and a playhouse. Add to this the ‘garden room’ – a covered deck enclosed with PFV rollblinds, furnished with comfortable couches and a coffee table and liberally adorned with hanging pot plants and ferns growing up the ‘walls’.

Rosie enjoyed helping with dinner, as did Cara, and was particularly adept at peeling garlic. Peeling stickers or drawing was another favourite pastime – we loved hearing Rosie talking to herself about what she was drawing (which was, of course, unrecognisable!), friends often featuring in the chat. She is a delightfully inclusive little girl but is also very independent, enjoying playing on her own. Cara, by contrast, gains all her energy from interacting with others and is at her happiest when engaged in anything social.

And, of course, it was a delight to see Elsie gain weight and fill out at an astonishing rate – in the first four weeks (and the first week, when babies usually lose a little weight and then regain back to their birth weight) she gained nearly 40% of her body weight – approximately 13% a week! By six weeks her weight gain was DOUBLE the norm. She is a relatively calm baby: demanding, of course, as all babies are and easily bored – she rarely likes to lie awake in one place for very long.

A couple of weeks around the six week mark saw her develop fretful spells in the afternoon. We found, quite haphazardly, that George Ezra’s song ‘Shotgun’ had an instant and magical effect in calming her. As soon as he started singing (the first few bars of the intro didn’t always cut it) she quietened down, body relaxing. The effect gave some blessed respite and lasted quite a few days, before she tired of him.

It wasn’t all cooking, cleaning and washing, though. Most days we were able to venture out on a cycle ride or to go swimming – the local pool is free, and a ten minute cycle ride away. We walked up and across Mangere Mountain, just by the house (the address ‘Mountain Road’ is a significant clue…).

Cat arranged various visits for us: a kind friend insisted on lending us her car for a week while she was away, which enabled us to visit Duder Regional Park (one of Auckland’s many), enjoying a good walk and amazing views.

Cat got us tickets for Ayrslie Gardens, a private garden somewhat like the Lost Gardens of Heligon with a variety of unusual plants created by one family over decades; and a visit to Tiritirimatangi Island. We also managed a visit to stay with Sue and Allan, Andy’s parents, at their home in Houhoura in the Far North, driving up with them and flying back down to Auckland.

And, of course, outings with the family. A trip to their favourite beach in east of Auckland, at Maraetai, where Cat and Andy’s sister Bex have done triathlons. We swam in a calm sea, warmer than back home in Guernsey although still a little chilly at first.

Visits to the café and library in Mangere Bridge centre, both such popular and frequent venues that the staff at the café know Cat’s usual coffee order. And of course a dive into the ‘op chop’ (local Vincent de Paul charity shop, with very friendly volunteers who seemed quite happy that Rosie was rearranging the doll and toy corner to her satisfaction, trying out the newborn baby clothes on selected recipients. A visit to an op shop was not, of course, an isolated occasion: I returned there and also cycled across the harbour to nearby Onehunga, sampling the shops there – one of which had beautifully artistic displays. I even found a lovely soft wrap in the Red Cross shop. It is a poncho made of merino silk: a mixture of merino lambswool, possum fur and silk. It folds up into a remarkably small package.

A trip to historic Devonport across the harbour, involving a train ride, a bus journey and a (very short, just minutes) ferry trip. Coffee and ice cream were, naturally, features of the trip along with a visit to the library and an impressive playground with a tall ‘lighthouse’ in the middle.

Cat also bought us ferry tickets to Tiritiri Matangi, an island sanctuary an hour from Auckland city centre. The island had, like Duder Regional Park, been cleared for sheep farming in the 1800s but in the 1970s, after the lease was withdrawn, it was designated a reserve and left, initially, to regenerate. An active program of pest eradication (the kiore/pacific rat) and dedicated seed-sowing and replanting of 280,000 trees and shrubs over a ten year period saw the island returned to its original state, with many native species of fauna returning and flourishing.

Cat had, with great forethought, booked us a guided tour. This lasted for more than a couple of hours and was absolutely invaluable. The guide was very knowledgeable about both the island and wider ecological and environmental issues: we would not have gained nearly as much from our visit had we just wandered around on our own.

And, somewhat bizarrely, the guide knew Guernsey well, having lived on Alderney for ten years prior to emigrating to New Zealand.  

And of course several visits to nearby Ambury Farm in Ambury Park on the edge of Manakau harbour and, again, just a few minutes’ cycle ride away from the house, with  several bird sanctuaries. A favourite ride was along Kiwi Esplanade from Mangere Bridge (where there is a new road bridge and a wonderful cycle bridge created in the location of the original), where thousands of South Island Pied Oystercatchers congregate on their migration north. Cat and Andy kindly took us here for our first New Zealand fish and chips supper – the chips so much more delicious than the usually fat, under-cooked and greasy chips beloved in the UK.

They also took us to several of their favourite eateries. Ruby Red, the café in Mangere Bridge shopping centre was such a favourite that the owner knows Cat’s usual coffee order. It sits in a row of cafés set back from the road, enabling tables to spread across the pavement. There is a lovely vibe there which makes the centre feel like a village. The centre has everything: a hardware store, where we bought sandpaper to finish off a painting job back at the house; a pharmacy; supermarket; doctor; hairdresser, and various fast food outlets. Evangelists have set up their ‘shop’ outside, with a sound system playing several well-known songs and choruses, our favourite being the first, ‘Forever Grateful’, which we sang so often at Nairobi Chapel and still have a recording of at home. Hearing the song – sounding identical – literally stopped me in my tracks as I cycled past.s’s

One morning, Bex took Cara and Rosie out for breakfast, so Cat and Andy took us to a favourite café, ‘Percy’s, out near the airport, in a tall modern building. Good to have time together just the four of us.

Then there was Hallertau, a restaurant in Clevedon out towards the east coast, which the girls loved: plenty of things to entertain children in an outside courtyard. Fortunately, the sun was out as the wind was quite chilly at the time. One particular bonus of our visit to add to the joy of being with family was the weather: some days of rain, but still warm and generally better than a summer’s day in Guernsey. #NewZealandautumn! 

After four weeks or so, Sue and Allan, Andy’s parents, drove down to Auckland for a church conference and so we drove back up to Pukenui in the Far North with them. They had extended a warm invitation for us to visit them several times, but we had been put off by the length of the journey. Usually this would take a minimum of 5 and a half hours drive, but recently a lot longer, as there had been damage to the roads caused by Cyclone Gabrielle a few weeks previously. In the end, we made the trip in just 6 hours as several of the diversions had been removed, although there was a very slow section with several sets of traffic lights where the road was still being repaired after portions had deteriorated or vanished in the cyclone and also the rain deluges just prior to that. We all met up at Cornwall Park (which Richard and I had cycled up to the day before, coincidentally, retracing a walk we did from One Tree Hill down to the café there on a previous visit.) for a picnic lunch with Bex and boyfriend Abe and his son Boaz before setting off.

The journey went more quickly than expected. I always love to see the forests, particularly the distinctive Norfolk pines and the indigenous trees, especially the tree ferns. We saw quite a bit of cyclone damage but I was struck, again, by just how empty New Zealand is. Miles and miles of rolling farmland with just a few houses or small settlements dominated our journey.

However, the highlight was a visit to the Hundertwasser Toilets in Kawakawa. We had stopped opposite for a break halfway through the journey and to get a snack from one of the many fast food outlets lining the main street. I was absolutely astonished by the toilets, which looked like some sort of art installation, until I realised that these are the famous toilets made in 1999 by an artist named Friedensreich Hundertwasser. The toilets are one of the few toilet blocks in the world which are considered to be works of art – just having a tree growing through the middle of them is unusual enough in itself, let alone the wonderful conglomerations of brightly coloured ceramic tiles, glass and quirky ironwork (the gate into the women’s side incorporates a small propellor, to name just one example). What a delight. I had heard of these but we hadn’t ever stopped to join the bus-loads of tourists who come to visit them on their tour of the Far North.

Staying with Allan and Sue was, however, even more of a delight. They have moved into Sue’s mother’s old house on the farm, a small wooden house built by Sue’s father just after the Second World War on his return home. Bearing in mind visits from the family – Andy is just one of 5 children who have given Sue and Allan 13 grandchildren, to date – they decided to remove a small lean to from the side of the house and use it as a base for building a cabin (a bach as such are known in New Zealand) in the garden. The result is a delightful two-bedroomed house, double-glazed and well-insulated with a huge double garage attached which doubles as kitchen/diner/family/games room. We were so comfortable there and found ourselves totally relaxed.

We hadn’t felt hugely tired out by grandparenting duties, but there is no doubt that the first four weeks had been full on as we tried to help the family adjust to Life With Elsie Joy. We had a relaxing time sitting on the little verandah in the sun, reading, catching up on this blog post and hanging out with Sue and Allan.

Richard had fun helping Allan remove a tree stump, which involved quite a lot of discussion and to-ing and fro-ing with the tractor before after an hour or so they were, eventually, successful. Allan drove us down to Houhora Heads, where seven years previously we had put up a marquee for Cat and Andy’s wedding, meeting Owen Wagener who had generously allowed us to use his garden on the edge of the water for the event. It all seemed very familiar and brough back lots of memories.

We walked along the waterfront a couple of times, venturing for a dip in the sea: at mid-tide there was quite a rip, which made swimming seem like being in an infinity pool. The water was calm and clear: there was something quite magical about swimming in this inland harbour, bordered by the mainland on one side and the farm opposite, Camel Mountain (named by Captain Cook on the basis of its appearance) rearing up majestically in front of us.

We made the return journey by air (the bus would have taken at best 7 and a half hours, with a stop over in Kerikeri, but detours were still in place so no doubt it would have been even longer) in just over an hour from Kaitaia in a small Caravan, similar to the planes Richard had flown in Africa. #blastfromthepast 

Back a day, and then we were off to Tapapakanga Regional Park where Cat had rented a bach. A lovely holiday house perched on a hill overlooking the sea. We walked down to the shingle beach, playing in the little ‘river’, marvelling at the ancient pohotukawa trees gracing the shore. There was a ‘homestead’ – the first farmhouse built just over a hundred years ago, a proud piece of history in this young country (even the Maori have lived here only around eight hundred years or so). The wooden building was empty, but the historical plaques in every window told  the story of a family of 14 children living a life reminiscent of Richard’s childhood: a remote area, paraffin lighting and no running water.

A swamp harrier swooped and dived above the valley. A herd of curious cows came up to the bach. We took a trip further east along the coast towards the Coromandel peninsula, stopping at the Pukorokoro shorebird centre at Miranda. We passed ‘Ray’s Rest’ – a motorhome stopover right next to the beach where, a few years previously, we had stopped in our hired motorhome. It had been marvellous to be so close to the waves and the coast there has a wonderful open feel.

At the bird centre we were reminded how Manakau harbour – just a few minutes cycle ride from Cat and Andy’s home – is a haven for shorebirds. One of our favourite cycle rides has been to skirt the base of Mangere Mountain, freewheeling all the way down the hill and through the village of Mangere Bridge to the waterfront, turning left onto Kiwi Esplanade just before the footbridge across the harbour to Onehunga. Cycling along with the harbour on our right, there are thousands of South Island pied oystercatchers gathering on the mudflats and the grass bordering the shore. Throw in a few kingfishers, the odd variable oyster catcher (apparently variable, but often completely black except for the red bill and legs) and some immature black-backed gulls, and we are never disappointed with the bird life. While not extensive in variety, New Zealand certainly makes up for that lack with large numbers of each species.

From Kiwi Esplanade – where we have been cycling with the children, having afternoon tea  or a fish and chip supper – we go through Ambury Park, cycling past Ambury Farm (where we also once went with Cat many years ago – my memory is of a great deal of sheep  wandering around) and then along the shore past the bird sanctuary. On almost our first day here, we ventured down to the park from the other side of the mountain, seeing large numbers of spoonbills; white-headed herons, seemingly unafraid; the inevitable oystercatchers; and all kinds of small waders. A couple of  pairs of black swans had cygnets when we first arrived but, after a few weeks, the cygnets were grown and the swans moved on. And, of course, the pukeko ­ - a beautiful purple/blue bird with bright red beak and legs, resembling an overgrown moorhen – were everywhere, very tame. There was even a small flock of chickens which hung around at the entrance to the footpath which climbed up from the lagoon towards the exit, always rushing up to meet us. They seemed to be all kinds of varieties, with various shapes and sizes and even a few tiny chicks.

We had managed to cycle, on both sides on different occasions, on designated cycle tracks/footpaths along the edge of the harbour nearly all the way to its farthest inland point. Another ride took us from Onehunga (once the main port for Auckland, at its heyday in the nineteen twenties and thirties) up the hill to Cornwall Park.

The last days were filled with a trip to the Botanical Gardens for brunch; trips down to the waterfront with the bikes – Rosie on her balance bike and Cara on a newly acquired bicycle, at which she is remarkably skilled; swims with – and without – the girls; playing in the garden. Easter Sunday saw a gathering of friends from church – around 15 or so of us, all bringing food to share.

All too suddenly our visit came to an end. Apart from the very precious, special time with the family, we had enjoyed becoming reacquainted with New Zealand. In some ways, it felt like coming ‘home’. ‘Home’ in its similarities with the UK – the language and customs – but also, strangely, with Kenya. The pioneer style architecture of many of the towns and villages, with their ribbons of shops boasting metal-roofed verandahs lining a main street, reminded us of Nakuru. Add in the wonderful ethnic diversity and a people speaking a tribal language – Maori - added a distinct sense of familiarity. Mangere particularly, where Cat and Andy live, has a large Pacifika population with an evidently different approach to life from the pakeha, the white people. The Maori names, however, were difficult for us to get our heads around… It helped a little to slowly learn the meaning of a few words (eg kai means food) but often names of places were difficult to remember.

The weather, too, had been a bonus: brilliant summer weather, even as ‘autumn’ approached, the days grew shorter (less than 12 hours daylight) and daylight savings kicked in, resulting in lighter mornings but evenings which began before 6pm. Even so, we were out most days in sunshine and shirtsleeves.

We had been approved for residency eight or nine years ago but, in the end for all manner of reasons, decided to remain in Guernsey. Difficult. Mixed emotions doesn’t begin to describe our feelings as we prepared to leave, but the inevitability of it helped. We left for home. For Guernsey.

And so…seven and a half weeks later, we arrived home, to be met by dear Sarah who came to pick us up. Flying premium economy (Air New Zealand, British Airways) certainly helped to make the journey much more comfortable, as well as getting 14 hours under our belt to Houston so that it was only (only!!) 9 hours after that. (And on that leg the plane was, surprisingly, only half full.)

All was well at home. Pickle seemed slightly surprised to see us. In fact, she gave the hairdresser more of a welcome a couple of days later…#tryingnottofeelmiffed. She had developed a slight limp on occasions – probably incipient arthritis, which Anne-Marie, our first dogsitter, had worried about. Otherwise, apart from needing to lost a little weight – she is now a heft 13kg – all was well. Anne-Marie had been the most wonderful companion for Pickle. She even fretted about leaving Pickle alone on her departure, so the girls who came after (friends of my gap-year student colleague Millie) had to message to say they had arrived in the house…very sweet.

It took about a week to recover from jetlag and get the garden back in shape – the grass had grown tremendously while the bushes and hedges all needed attention. Satisfying to get back into a routine, although I filled every day with catch-ups with friends: always helps to ‘ground’ me. But oh.. we do miss them all….

 

 

Monday, 3 October 2022

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 10th 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, 1st 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.

Sunday, 29 April 2018

April. Adventures. Anxiety. ANN!

April has been a strange month. For the first two weeks, we adventured off to France, exploring with Pickle. So much to see and discover, amid mixed weather: a couple of days of persistent rain, some wind, more sunshine and a couple of days of summer-style warmth. Not bad for the month.
Enormous swell off the south coast - perhaps up to twenty feet

Beautiful 'summer's' evening at Rocquaine

Found in the garden centre car park: the latest Lamborghini.  #notinterested 

Pickle's preferred breakfast position

Found in the kitchen: an unusual moth...
 Yet, in the middle of it, some very sad news. My dearest friend, Ann, passed on halfway through the month, finally succumbing to pneumonia after a long and brave battle with lung cancer. Words cannot express how I feel, although I have jotted down some memories here. My new head kindly allowed me the day to attend the funeral. Although it was one of the saddest days I have had for a long tithme, it was good to meet up with her husband Richard and my dear friends Catherine and Mary - the other 'sisters' in our tight-knit group.

Then, back to work. The term has started at full gallop, as usual: always so much to do. A full scale musical production, then straight into our World War Two studies. First off was a trip to the Occupation Museum, a wonderful private collection of all kinds of Occupation-themed artefacts.

The film of the book 'The Potato Peel Pie Literary Society' had just come out, a tale about the Occupation of Guernsey during WW2 by the Germans, so there is a lot of local interest. We spent the last Saturday of the month visiting one of the gun batteries, the Mirus battery in St Saviours. A local organisation, Festung Guernsey, are doing a wonderful job slowly restoring some of the old installations, sharing them with the public. Fascinating to see, through photographs and the remains of the enormous bunkers, the huge German war machine in action. Awe-inspiring engineering.

At home, catching up with friends again through letters and emails, over meals, afternoon tea and on our Thursday nights...lovely.

A full month, too much to take in, really.

Saturday, 4 March 2017

February: well, where did that go?

Into spring, actually, although the dying gasp of the month put us firmly back into winter, ready for 'In like a lion and out like a lamb', as the saying goes about March. Or is it the other way round? I can be firmly convinced of either.

But February had its fair share of stormy weather, gales, high tides and fog. Lots and lots of fog, most of it over half term. We were all right - off on the boat to France, as documented in our motorhome adventures - but many weary travellers were delayed, sometimes for days. Ho hum - the price of living on paradise island, I suppose.

Inbetween the storms, the daffodils erupted - many growing in unexpected places, not only in our garden, but also along my daily commute to work. Most surprising were the single clumps, proudly perched high, on the grassy banks which do duty as walls or fences around the fields.

I managed a little more digging of our new vege patch: I'm creating more beds, digging up an old gravel path with some large rocks beneath it. #notenoughtimeathome

Otherwise, we managed to see many friends, both out and about and inviting them home. I had parents' evenings at school - all good, lovely to celebrate the children's progress with them.

And then it was half term, and we were off. To Brittany, this time.

In the midst of it all, there was much to pray for. Sick friends. Our children living in a war-torn country, serving the poor as best they can. Our children applying for new, exciting, adventures - and succeeding.  Pain and sorrow and anxiety and fear-that-trusts and rejoicing and excitement all rolled up into one intricate prayermat. God knows.

And the days grow longer, and lighter, and our spirits begin to lift...

Thursday, 23 July 2015

Not quite travels with Charley...

I've always wanted to emulate John Steinbeck's epic journey round America which he made in a camper van with his poodle, Charley. At least, I've wanted to travel in a camper van with a dog, not necessarily round America.

Oh well, travelling round New Zealand with a husband will 'have' to do instead.

So, saying a sad farewell to Cat and Andy, we hung around Ahipara for a bit, enjoying the surf and the sense of space. Church was a pleasantly multi-cultural experience, meeting New Zealanders of very varied backgrounds. Andy's family have been here for seven generations...

And, of course, there was wedding planning. We looked at the Anglican church: a rebuild on the original, historical site - light and airy. Tried to find a place to stay at Christmas. Tried to book airline tickets...

Then off to Houhora, where the wedding reception will be. The campsite next door is on the water, with a view across to the bach. It was low tide...Andy had all kinds of stories of different crossings over the years: walking across most of it, then swimming; going by boat, often late at night after a summer job had finished...island life, almost.


This was the first time we had camped with an electrical hook-up: what a revelation. Easy morning coffee, a hot shower, underfloor heating...definitely glamping.   I was glad Pickle wasn't with us: she would have been far too warm.



The van is monster big - but has everything - except for a dog - you need: a comfortable bed and armchairs, well-equipped kitchen and onboard ensuite.

I might never camp in a tent again...

Wednesday, 8 July 2015

New Zealand New Zealand!

Months of planning - a day of packing - and we are off.

Mixed emotions at leaving home, as always: Guernsey in the summer is just the best. Heading off to Winter in NZ, snow and near-zero temperatures forecast for our arrival.

And it is GoodbyeDog, helloCat.

Halfway across the world - a simple journey, really. A plane ride, a coach ride and another couple of plane rides and we'll be there.

Meanwhile, in Heathrow, I have just seen a family of hobbits. Elderly parents dressed in creams and earthy browns, their daughter an elf dressed in long skirts and leafy greens. Wonderfully charming and a welcome change from the usual traveller wear of jeans and trainers, leggings and high heels, sundresses and T shirts and shorts and flip-flops.

People watching and pausing for God always enlivens the wait.

Saturday, 2 April 2011

The joys of waiting; fitting everything in; what I did in event of fog...

So, I arrived at the airport spot on time for check-in, after a worried sprint from the car park.

I fitted everything in first. Left lesson plans for the next day, photocopied worksheets, labelled the resources. Arranged meetings. Reviewed timetables. Checked the school garden. Wrote emails. Took the year group on a History trip.  Arranged for the children to be delivered to their parents. Rushed to the airport.

On time.  The plane wasn't. It wasn't anywhere near, in fact - we were fogged in, so no planes could land or take off.

So I waited. For 3 hours, until it was evident to everyone as the fog thickened and blanketed down for the night, that nothing would be coming or going that day.

What to do? I was going to a conference. Even if everything was running to time the next morning (which it wasn't, as the planes had to arrive first, causing a two hour delay at the start), I would still get to the conference late.  As it was, it wouldn't be possible to get there before midday.

So I cancelled. Went home to a delighted husband. Went to school the next day to a surprised and sympathetic staff.

Hmmph.  What a waste of resources - the conference fee and hotel costs and my time.  Still, I was here for breakfast. And that was wonderful.

Wednesday, 30 March 2011

The joys of travel; fitting everything in; what to do in the event of fog.

Hmmm.  I'm off island tomorrow evening, going for a day conference in London. I should be back Friday evening. 12 hours after my arrival, I'm hosting one of my monthly ladies' breakfasts.

Today it is foggy. All the flights have been cancelled. I'm wondering if a) I'll be able to leave tomorrow, and b) if I'll get back in time.

I've left lists and phone numbers with my long-suffering husband. Lists of items I need taking out of the freezer or preparing, in case I am delayed until the next day; phone numbers in case I have to cancel. Or ask another friend to host in my place. In my house. Not sure that that will work, but it's worth a try.

Hmmm....

Monday, 11 January 2010

Back to basics

J and C's departure rather took me by surprise, somehow. After a week of icy roads and the closure of Guernsey's airport, bus services and schools - not to mention several roads - I didn't expect them to be leaving on Saturday. They were quite desperate to go as term started on Monday, but it didn't look as if they would be going anywhere.

Anyway, we went out to the airport in hope. They got on the flight. It took off - after a delay while Jersey airport cleared of snow - and flew them over to Stansted. Twins back to uni, no problem.

Parents back to a quiet house again - very quiet apart from the groaning of the washing machine as it chugs through hundreds of towels... wonder where they came from??!!

Parents back to a quiet life, too. Apart from Christmas decorations to pack away, school work to catch up on, meetings which resume... maybe not so quiet after all?

Sunday, 6 July 2008

Off and away

Term ended last Friday. It has been horrendously hectic - with quite a lot of bad stuff. I want to forget about all that. I've had to practise forgiving as well. I think I'm getting there.

Usually at the end of term I like to collapse into the arms of a good book - or ten. Catching up a little at home but otherwise indulging in a reading fest. I don't mind too much what I read, either, although it's about time I caught up with some really 'good' reading.

With that in mind, I've just packed a suitcase or two. We're off tomorrow back to Kenya. I'm looking forward to it with trepidation. It's eight and a half years since we left, and I'm not sure I'm ready to go back yet. It's unknown territory for my feelings: they've drawn up an itinerary, packed supplies and got themselves in shape for this expedition, but who knows what lies ahead?

Watch this space. (In three weeks time.)

Monday, 12 May 2008

Discombobulated

Wow, what a word. It means confused, disconcerted, upset, frustrated. One of the local vicars used it in school assembly this morning – and one of the boys knew what it meant! (Which must surely mean that his parents have used it… I wonder why…)

It's a good word, though. It could describe my state of mind quite accurately.

I'm in danger of becoming discombobulated because…

…we won't be seeing some of our oldest and closest friends, after a four year gap, this summer.

….we can't decide on holiday plans.

…I have so much on my mind that I'm getting very little done.

At school I have to:

Organise our school delegation to the Primary Schools' Congress for the day after tomorrow. I and the School Council chairman need to decide which issues we will present, organise the most important points and brief the delegates. We have a twenty minute slot tomorrow to do all that.

Organise our next School Council meeting

Plan and organise the school garden – a huge bare area of soil at present

Run the cycling proficiency club well enough for the boys to pass their road tests

Rewrite the PSHE and Citizenship scheme of work

Review the PSHE and Citizenship policy

Make sure that Walk to School week – NEXT WEEK!!! – is promoted properly.

That's all without teaching, marking and preparation.

'Ware discombobulation!

Thursday, 10 April 2008

Special times

So where am I headed off to?

This weekend has been planned for a few months now. I'm meeting up with three very special women - my sisters in Christ. They are closer to me than sisters. We've known each other for decades, since we first lived together for a few weeks before departing to work in Africa. We have had a rare opportunity to live in close community with each other, sharing every detail of our lives. A closeness developed which has spanned thousands of miles and years of neglect.

We've survived weddings, and a divorce. We've survived not being asked to weddings (there were good reasons for that) and not knowing about the imminent divorce until it was too late. (We would have loved to have helped - but there were good reasons for being kept out of that, as well.) We are so trusting with each other that we live above hurt or injured feelings. We love each other deeply.

We are possibly more brutally honest with each other than with anyone else - even our husbands. We speak the truth immediately, no holds barred, completely secure.

This weekend, I'm taking two flights and travelling hundreds of miles to be with them. I'd go a lot further than that. It will be a very special time. I can't wait.

Leaving - not.

I've spent the last few hours packing. I should have left the island this afternoon, but have put it off until tomorrow morning - I'll leave on the 'red-eye' at 7am. I hope I'm not pushing my luck - I have a connecting flight a mere 4 hours after arrival in Manchester. I think that's enough time to cater for any weather or technical problems. I've only experienced these twice: once, a five hour delay due to fog; another time, an hour's delay because of a minor technical hitch. So I'm hoping all will be well.

I was just putting off my departure - I could have gone this afternoon. But the weather was glorious: cloudless skies, azure blue, millpond still sea; the sun beating down on my face as I sat on the rocks at the beach, while the dog splashed in the sea, convinced summer had arrived.

And Jonny and Cat are still here. They go back to uni at the weekend, while I am away. I just wanted to make the most of every minute with them.