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.

Dominating December

The beginning of Advent came at the end of November and so, December was dominated by thoughts of Christmas.

I started, as usual, by trying to focus my thoughts daily: this year, with Lection 365’s daily readings, supplemented by a couple of other emails which popped into my inbox with different ‘focus’ words. Still, I found my thoughts somewhat scattered as I focused not only on the birth of Christ, but on the impending birth of our first grandson.

We were glued to WhatsApp throughout the day of December 17th, once we knew that Adele and Jonny had gone to the hospital, alternating with long text messages between Lisa and I, she nearby while I was far distant. Both of us wondering, waiting, reassuring each other that all would be well. #thankGodfortheinternet

After a gruelling labour, Finn Oscar John Pollard was safely delivered by Caesarean section – a healthy 4.1kg – 9 lb, in old money. Already, after a few days, he looked more like a two month old baby and, by the time he was one week old, had been ‘out’ to dinner and gone on a lengthy visit to our friends Byron and Lisa, who live a 40-minute drive away from home. Wonderful photos of Other People holding him... our turn will come later.

But we are so, so grateful and rejoice that he has had such a wonderful welcome. Not least, by his other grandparents whose journey we prayed for as they made their way south from Doncaster, eventually arriving 36 hours after leaving home. (We, too, have booked to go and visit him in a few months’ time, but going by a more direct route.)

The rest of the month was dominated by internet and computer problems: the first, caused by a visiting baby unwittingly yanking on a cable which in turn pulled wires out of a connection box, which in turn caused intermittent and hard-to-identify problems, which led to a request for an internet upgrade and then an engineer’s visit and then... many, many hours trying to sort out various hacking issues. #joysofcomputers   #neverasimplesolution

Otherwise, my commitments at school eased up and I had plenty of time to enjoy writing Christmas cards and emails. I completed a lot of festive baking, including inventing a wonderful recipe for crystallized orange peel sugar cookies, baking 150 tiny gingerbread ‘stables’ for the Christmas programme at church and perfecting my Swedish pepparkakor recipe to be suitable for vegan friends.

My ‘Jesse tree’ became more of a decorated ‘hearts’ tree but I did open up windows on our vintage Advent calendars: one, in particular, I love,because the scenes behind the windows reflect the scenes in the whole Advent calendar. It reminds me of Jostein Gaarder’s  The Christmas Mysteries, where a little girl journeys from Norway to Bethlehem, gathering characters from the Christmas story as she does while simultaneously travelling back in time to the birth of Christ. A lovely and very clever story, compelling to read.

We hosted a few small gatherings for friends, preferring to keep groups small even though there was more preparation involved. First our home group, as we shared our own Christmas and Advent traditions: from reading the same beloved story each year to reminiscing about parents and sharing a Christmas poem by John Betjeman, to tales of stringing popcorn and cranberries to decorate a tree in the American tradition, to taking a dip in the sea on Christmas morning...  With other friends, we gathered on December 22nd to celebrate La Longue Veille, the longest night, an old Guernsey tradition where neighbours and friends gathered just before Christmas Eve to drink mulled wine, tell stories and to work on handicrafts to sell at the traditional Christmas Eve market.

And many, many of the writers I read, including the lovely Ann Voskamp and her wise words, wrote of sorrow and loneliness and heartbreak all amplified by the expectations of the season.

Of course, walking and cycling as often as weather allows was a must, where we saw raptors of some kind on every occasion. One walk in particular, through the fields by the observation post towards Pleinmont, yielded several sightings of a buzzard, a sparrowhawk and a kestrel; another cycle ride gave us a close up view of a kestrel hovering before it dived and caught a vole just a few metres away from us.

Sea swimming, on the other hand, didn’t happen quite so often!!

Finally: a note on Lost Things. The first was a piece of protective tubing which came off the battery case on my bike. It was not a huge difficulty, but nevertheless an annoyance and inconvenience to replace. I tried to retrace my route, keeping an eye out, with a ‘I know it’s not really important, but it would be nice if I found it...’ prayer to God. And I DID! Something caught my eye at the entrance to a neighbour’s driveway... and there it was.

More seriously, we set off for town on Christmas Eve when I noticed that the diamond on my engagement ring had fallen out. After making sure that it had not come out in the car, on my return home I shone a light under the hall trunk, in the vain hope that it had fallen out while I had been pulling something out of my bag. And... THERE IT WAS!  Just a couple of minutes after returning home.  I had prayed the same prayer, after giving myself a sternly philosophical talking-to along the lines of ‘what is done, is done’, never expecting that I would find such a tiny object. Quite, quite miraculous. So grateful.

Living on this beautiful island, the sea with its continually-changing moods and vistas always a delight and a consolation, even in the worst weather – so grateful.

Hearing from so many wonderful, albeit mostly distant, friends over the Christmas season – so grateful.

Ending the month with more visits with nearby friends – so grateful.

Reflecting on so many answered prayers, especially for Finnley, Jonny and Adele – so grateful.

Thinking of Cat and Andy and our precious granddaughters in New Zealand: charming caring Cara and fearless adventurous Rosie – so grateful.

A long-lasting, happy, interesting and exciting marriage – so grateful.

So, so grateful.

Sunday, 26 December 2021

Nice November

November hurtled onwards towards the Advent season. My one and a half days became 4 or 5, as I stepped in for various colleagues. Our French teacher, Barbara (who is Italian and wonderfully multilingual) had rushed to Italy, where her father had been taken ill; another colleague was ill with a chest infection; and my former year group partner, now teaching Maths and sport, tested positive for Covid-19.

It was, initially, quite a lot of fun and I certainly felt incredibly useful as I knew the routines and all the children in the various classes I covered, so it was relatively easy for everyone concerned. However, the third week – when I was also due to help invigilate the entrance assessment into Year 7, taken by all Year 6 children – was quite chaotic as I had no timetable given me, so just wandered from one lesson to another, picking up the reins as I went.

 I still managed to fit in a few extra duties as well, to help relieve the pressure, as mid-November we were inspected by ISI.

The inspection had been a long time coming and preparation had been intense, with countless new initiatives introduced and reams of paperwork completed. Somewhat galling to discover, after hours days of planning, that Ofsted itself (which inspects ISI, the independent schools’ inspectorate) no longer requires planning, preferring to look at what the children actually learn rather than what is taught. Yes, there can be a difference!

As a part-time teacher, I had more time than most to prepare and was quite relaxed. Nevertheless, I was observed twice in both of the departments I work in. Not unexpected, as I teach so much of the R.E. and I was assuming that the inspectors would look at least one lesson, if not more. All seemed to go well... the report will be out in December.

The other project which took up quite a chunk of emotional energy was that of finishing up the hard-standing Richard was preparing for the motorhome. It had taken quite a bit of organisation: booking a cement mixer to deliver and pour a load of ready-mixed concrete; hiring tools to help spread and smooth the cement as it poured into the slab; and organising friends to come and help, particularly Martyn who is highly expert at All Things Building.

But it was not easy. Richard caught the worst cold he had had in years and had to cancel; the second week, the lorry broke down, so yet more cancellations all round; but, finally, it was all done.

This in spite of Covid, with numbers of those infected increasing rapidly. Nevertheless, the proportion of those double vaccinated testing positive only amounted to 2%, as compared to approximately 15% of those unvaccinated. We started to find several friends suddenly testing positive and I was contact traced several times as children at school came down with it.

Nature in November was nice. Not many wet and gloomy days: in fact, on one of the aborted ‘cement’ days we sat outside the front door, drinking coffee with friends, for several hours. There were some stunning sunrises and sunsets, and so many sightings of buzzards, harriers and kestrels that we lost count. The garden  shone with luminescent nerines, their pink trumpets almost seeming to glow in the dark, while several shrubs produced an abundance of red berries, which the blackbirds slowly and methodically stripped off the branches. The potato flower, meanwhile, continued to rampage, almost drowning the oil tank and climbing up to the top of the prunus rusticana which shades our patio.

And then, the last weekend brought the beginning of Advent: but that is next month's story....

 

Thursday, 4 November 2021

Outstanding October

October began with a delightful day of supply, teaching 5 year olds. (It should have been 6 year olds, but I was glad for the switch over – they were good fun.) It was surprisingly satisfying and I enjoyed meeting younger siblings of older children in the other department of the school, who I see once a week for R.E.

The weather was true Indian summer, continuing almost unbroken from September. There were a couple of unpleasant days, but otherwise it was absolutely beautiful. Sarah and I spent many afternoons sitting at the top of Petit Bot beach, drinking tea after a refreshing swim in the crystal clear waters between the cliffs. We could have been on a tropical island.

Almost every day was a cycle ride, whether to school, the beach for a swim or just ‘for fun’. The Nerines – the Guernsey lily – exploded in the garden and the flowering shrubs yielded a good crop of berries for the birds.

As for the ‘unpleasant’ days: well, one was just a day of rain and winds lashing the windows. A friend called round and we enjoyed coffee, conversation and good catch-up for a couple of hours, snug inside. It was almost unbelievable: the previous day had been sunny, warm and so calm that the silence was almost unnerving. Strolling in the garden in the evening, the expected rain seemed unreal.

The second day was in fact a night: strong winds arrived by evening, Force 7, expected to gust to Force 8. But by 11pm it was evident that the wind was much stronger. A north-westerly, the bedroom window received the full brunt of it, so much so that the decorative metal heart which hangs against the glass started to rattle and soon the wooden bower – which was screwed to the wall to stop it banging – also made its presence felt.

The next morning revealed that many trees had come down, blocking roads across the island. I foolishly tried to cycle through the lanes on my way home from school and found myself having to turn around and find an alternative route a total of three times. How I managed to get to school safely, only needing to negotiate the debris of leaves and twigs, is a mystery and it was only afterwards, reading the Guernsey Press, that I realised how difficult the morning commute had been for many people.

Then there were countless bird sightings. First, a grey wagtail, unmistakeable with its long tail, grey upperparts and yellow vent at the base of the tail, hopping around the edge of the motorhome hard-standing. A pair of silver pheasants, strolling through the grounds of one of Guernsey’s many wonderful farmhouses, just a mile or so away. Many other pheasants clucked in the neighbouring fields or delighted with their wonderfully colourful plumage: some of the cock pheasants in particular seemed incredibly tame.

And buzzards. Seven one day: one after an early morning swim, calling above the hill as I cycled up; five circling over the house; and a final buzzard near the airport on a cycle ride. Coming home from school, I glimpsed one sitting on a fence post: as I drew near, it rose lazily into the air, the underside of its wings unusually white. We have seen this one before, around its usual hunting grounds near the riding club which is on my commute to school down ‘Chemin du Roi’ – the Road of the King – which goes past Forest parish cemetery.

As for the greenfinches: a ‘charm’ of finches. They swarmed the hedges, in particular in the field below the ‘lookout’ at Le Grantez mill in Castel. The site, with a ruined mill which was demolished by the Nazis so that their bunker would have an uninterrupted viewpoint, overlooks Vazon. The base of the Victorian mill, which fell into disuse at the beginning of the last century, has recently been rebuilt by prisoners, who have done a marvellous job.

October. Outstanding.

Saturday, 2 October 2021

Superb September

 June - to September? What happened to July and August? www.travelswithpickle.blogspot.com, of course!

And so, yes, to September.

Well, we had hoped for an Indian summer on our return to Guernsey, after a wettish, albeit mild Scottish summer: and we got it, in spades.

(In retrospect, hearing about the cold wind here which had prevailed during the month of August, we think we actually had rather a good summer – meteorological records even showing that Scotland experienced warmer and sunnier weather than is normal!)

We got back into the house at the beginning of the month and were grateful for such a long spell of hot, sunny weather that it made washing the laundry, accumulated while we had been away, relatively painless. I even did a couple of loads a day at one point, as the sheets dried in just a couple of hours.

So the month, although it saw my return to work on a couple of days in the week, was full of sea swimming, beach picnics, cliff walks and blackberry picking, not to mention some brilliant cycle rides. The ‘inside’ jobs (of which there are many) were consigned to the Wet Weather List. It was really an attitude which echoed Mole’s “Hang spring-cleaning!” Absolutely.

There were also lots of opportunities to reconnect with friends as we started inviting people round or going out for breakfast, coffee, teas and supper. Marvellous.

Slowly, the house was put back in order, refilling cupboards, emptying cardboard boxes, carefully storing away towels and bedlinens for next year. This is still a lot of de-cluttering, though, that needs to take place. Later, in winter.

Bird sightings: lots of buzzards, occasionally flying low over the hedges as we cycled past but always calling distinctively. A bike ride seemed incomplete without a buzzard encounter. Kestrels, too, swooping above and below the cliff edge.

And rabbits. Too, too many rabbits. We had seen several sick ones – myxomatosis taking its toll – while we were camping at Fauxquets Valley – but the garden rabbits were in altogether very rude health. The warren has a couple of LARGE holes exiting into various spots in the garden and we were treated, one morning, to two large rabbits having a lovely long game of hide and seek right in front of our window. Hmmm.

A couple of sightings of rats, too: far too familiar. Pickle does her best, jumping around in the bushes and flushing them out, but they scamper to safety in a very leisurely manner.

So, back at home after one of the best safaris we have had. It was good to be able to talk, inconsequentially, to all kinds of people in our own language; to meet fellow-wanderers, hearing about amazing places; and to learn all kinds of new things historical, geographical, scientific and just plain awesome. So grateful to have this opportunity...