Merry Christmas

Well, we just returned from a four day trip of Amsterdam and now we are enjoying a quiet Christmas together. There is no snow here, the temperature today was about 5 above and we decided to go for a walk to clear our bleary travel heads. I told Rick Merry Christmas a couple of times during our walk just to remind us that it really was. It did feel kind of strange not doing all of the things one normally does today. No turkey cooking in the oven, no tree, no presents under the tree (the trip was our gift to each other) and no kids. But it certainly is freeing not having all of the hassles that also come with this holiday and I do like that part of it. At the end of our walk we stopped by our local convenience store and Rick bought a couple of bottles of Becks and a pack of Dr Who action cards for me. He has played a few Christmas tunes on his newly acquired keyboard, we have nibbled on the smoked Norwegian salmon we brought back from our trip and chatted with Joyce, Lori, Molly, and Jackson and emailed friends and family. It has made me think about what Christmas is really all about. Don't you think we get so tangled up in all the hoopla and end up tired and stressed by Christmas that we are ready to kill someone? This is the first Christmas in I don't know how long that I haven't felt guilty, tired, worn out, freaked out, or wishing for the day to be over. Sounds rotten, I know. But let's be serious. If we love each other, why wait until today to say so? Why wait until December fricken 25th to call your mom, or your sister, or your best friends. Love them everyday. Appreciate them and cherish them and count your blessing whether it is your stable income, a warm home, or a terrific meal. After all, we don't need Santa to remind us if we have been naughty or nice. We should already know in our hearts what ever day of the year it may be.

Love and blessings to all of my dear friends and family and all of the best for 2010.

The Land of Oz

Having just finished week three of my new job in London, I still find myself in awe of this amazing city. Every lunch hour, I walk across London Bridge and make my way through the busy streets exploring and scouting out new places to shop. It seems that there is no shortage of tourists, too, despite the fact that the weather is cool and blustery. So often I see them stopping to take photos on the bridge which looks onto the Thames, of course, and not far off to Tower Bridge. People often confuse these bridges. I think it is because the Tower Bridge is so much more majestic and ornate with golden tipped peaks. The London Bridge is, well, a bridge over the Thames and if you didn't read the signs you could easily pass over it without knowing it's importance. The lunch hour is a blur of businessmen in suits talking on mobile phones, people jogging, women in sky rocket heels and teeny skirts (don't they ever get cold?) and so many different languages being spoken as people pass by that my brain is whirring from trying to take it all in. I can't help but feel excited to be amongst this hive of activity.

The offices of Ernst and Young are situated next to City Hall and when I pass through the revolving doors into the reception area, I feel like Dorothy in the Land of Oz. Just the other day, when the weather was particularly wet and nasty, and I was entering the building with my umbrella dripping, the reception personnel/greeter dudes were at the doors with a machine that I have never seen before. When I asked what it was, my favourite greeter guy said that he invented it just for me. He took my drenched umbrella and stuck it in the machine and it came out dry with a long plastic sleeve over it. I must have looked like a complete dork standing there gawking at my umbrella then the machine then my umbrella and then as I walked towards my department, again at my umbrella.

So the umbrella service was pretty awesome and the fact that I had inspired an invention was even more uplifting, but get this, each floor of the building is colour coordinated – so red for floor #4 and orange for level 5 and yellow for 6. But to top it off each floor has it's own latte/coffee/tea/hot chocolate/mocha machine and we can have whatever we want for free. There is also an in-house catering service that looks after all of the meeting rooms. They have staff, dressed in black suits, hired exclusively to look after the catering and push trolley's around to replenish each meeting room with herbal teas, sparkling water, and coffee served in china cups and saucers with pictures of the Tower Bridge on them.

There is also a coffee bar on site which serves speciality coffees and breakfast foods and, in addition, a main cafeteria with a buffet bursting with homemade soups, salad bar, fresh pies, desserts, deli sandwiches and hot pasta dishes, roast beef meals and curries. And I am sure I have missed mentioning other things that are offered there too.

Now that Christmas isn't far away, the most magnificent decorations with a theme of white and silver are tastefully appointed throughout the building. My favourite are the two enormous urns that are filled with white branches and clustered with a wonderful array of interesting floral pieces and Christmas bobbles. I really wanted to take a photo but another greeter dude said I had to get permission. My favourite one wasn't there the day I brought my camera to work. Apparently, I am not supposed to take photos outside of the offices either. So when you see my photos which I have attached I have taken them from a distance. I was afraid they would cart me off, if I got too close. Not sure of the reasoning for this but when I get the chance I am going to ask the inventor of the umbrella machine. He might even pose in a shot with me. So stay tuned for that.

London Good

Hello, dear friends and family. You have probably wondered where I have been. Well, first of all I have been having some internet challenges. Almost got to the point where I was going to throw my lap top out onto the lawn with utter frustration. Well, that is hopefully behind me now. Rick was able to sort out the issue and I am up and running again. My big news is that I have a temporary job working in HR for Ernst and Young in London. I have to say that I am pretty happy about getting this assignment. Firstly, I didn't realize just how lonely I was getting staying at home while the boys went to school and secondly, I missed my financial independence. When the temp agency called about this opportunity to work with their recruiting team for three months at a good salary, I would have had to check my sanity (for the 50th time since arriving, I might add)if I said no.

Working in London has been pretty interesting so far. It is truly a melting pot and I get to work with people from all over the world. So when I open my mouth and my very Canadian voice comes out, I don't feel like a freak. Instead, I fit right in. At lunch I get to go for a stroll along the Thames and pass City Hall, gaze at the Tower Bridge and examine the Gerkin. I can't tell you the number of times I have uttered to myself, "OMG, I am working in London!".

My commute to work is simple. I catch a bus outside our doorstep and within 5 minutes I am at the train station in Dartford. The train to London Bridge takes me 35 minutes and after a 5 minute walk, I am at the EY offices. I plan to write something in my blog about the happenings on the train. People get weird after a long day at work, the darkness at 4:30pm and being crammed into a car with 100 other riders. So look for my stories on these adventures.

I have already made several friends from my corporate induction on Monday and we had lunch together today. It was so good to chat and laugh with the ladies and I felt a bit of a lurch in my heart when I thought about my dear friends at KPR. I do miss all of you! When we talked about our families and I explained my situation, I felt emotional when I remembered Keaton and Molly, my mom, my sister, my dad, and my best pal, Debbra (sorry, I mean Chickie). But I know you will all be there when I get home and we will have so many more new stories to share with each other.

So now the next time I go to see our friend, Robert, that works in the convenience store around the corner from here, I will indeed let him know when he asks, "London good, London good?" Yes, so far London is good. London is good.

Happy Halloween

There were several of these web-like structures in the play areas of the beaches in Majorca. Pretty sure they weren't put there for these goof balls to climb, however.

I see England, I see France

Since Chan was feeling better by Thursday, we decided to take a day trip to France. We got the train in Dartford to Dover and then the ferry to Calaise which in total took three hours to complete. It was a beautiful clear day and it was great weather for crossing the channel. What surprised me was how well equipped the ferry was and it was not at all what I had envisioned. I thought we would be huddled in some glass covered boat with the waves edging up to the rails and a lone captain, with a pipe in the corner of his mouth, navigating recklessly towards the French coast. Nope, this ferry was a cruise ship, for goodness sake. Book stores, perfume shops, Costa coffee, restaurants serving curry, a couple of bars, and even a games room for the kids. With the crossing taking just over an hour and three quarters, it was easy to find ways to pass the time.

We did spend some time up on the deck and Rick and Chan spotted several jellyfish popping up and then back down again near the wash from our boat. Chan was pretty thrilled to see these creatures and it reminded me of when I was a girl and I lived in British Columbia. We used to go down to the docks and see what the fishermen had pulled out of their nets. Quite often jellyfish would get caught in the mix with crabs, seaweed, and other unwanted fish and they would be left on the docks. Not sure what ever happened to these outcasts but as kids we loved to poke at these wacky marine invertebrates.

As we approached the coast of France, we noticed this expansive beach that in the summer would probably be a blast to lounge on, walk along, and just hang out. Suddenly, though, I remembered that we were in France and I asked Rick if this may have been one of the beaches that had been stormed during war times. Rick said that it was Normandy and he wasn’t sure about Calaise but it still felt a little eerie as we quietly chugged into the port as the beach was desolate.

Once in the town of Calaise, we walked the streets reading the French signs (and trying out our language skills with shop keepers and bar tenders), drooling as we passed bakery windows, and were basically on a mission to find the best place to pick up some cheap wines. We found a local grocery store and that is when our excitement could no longer be contained. Holy crap, wine for 1 Euro 95! I am sure the locals shudder when nutty tourists like us show up. I just loved to see Chan imitating Rick and me grabbing for this and that on the shelves and cooing about the prices. “I’ll take one of those and one of these and yes, how about that too?” his arms extended and retracted like some kind of assembly line machine. Okay, so maybe we were a little over zealous about the wine selection but when do you get the chance to come to France and shop like that?

Aside from the wine, we did take Channing to a German bunker (sorry to say but it smelt musty and damp) and he was quite fascinated by the collection of guns, newspaper clippings, uniforms, and other memorabilia. I, however, was kind of creeped out by the manikins adorned in former military wear. I swear to god they were looking right at us and when we left the room, they would carry on a polishing their guns, smoking their cigarettes, or relaying a message through their cells phones the size of a shoe box inside of their glass cabinets.

The bunker was set in a lovely park which had an exhibition of at least fifty aerial photos taken around the world. We strolled through the park, taking in the massive pictures that were at least 4 x 6 feet and propped up on stands and lights overhead for viewing at night. I gasped when I came across one that was a shot of the brilliant fall colours in Quebec. It was so nice to see Canada recognized for its beauty amongst so many other fascinating places in the world.

We also stopped for a few minutes to watch a group of five men playing a game of Bocce ball and I took a couple of photos and said that our friend, David Serafino, would have loved to see this.

Since France was one hour ahead of us, we miscalculated our return trip and missed the ferry back to Dover. We had to wait an hour and a half for the next one so by the time we got back to Dartford it was just past midnight and no buses were running. When we tried to hail a taxi, we couldn’t get one to stop and this meant that we had to walk home (uphill most of the way) loaded with our purchase of 12 bottles of wine and a 3 litre cask of Riesling. We were pretty pooped by the time we got in the door. Next trip we are going to take a rolling suitcase and make sure that we watch the clocks for the time!

The rain in Spain falls mainly...

Well, our week in Majorca, Spain was interesting. Considering that Rick booked everything on-line, we travelled without any glitches. I tend to be a little leery of calling a toll free number and booking a trip that way, but we saved ourselves a bundle and when it was all said and done it cost 477 pounds for the week for flights and hotel for the three of us. I am quite satisfied that it was a good deal.

Our room was on the 9th floor and it had a specular view of the mountains, and the bay of Palma Nova. However, there was an odour that was coming from the bathroom and it was quite offensive. It was a cross between a swamp and an outhouse. We tried airing out our room and flushing the toilet and running the water in the tub and the sink, but we just couldn't shake the smell. When we complained to the front desk, they sent up a guy and he put some god awful concoction down the drains and told us to wait for 50 minutes. By this point, we felt we had been fumigated and stood outside with our drinks because our eyes were starting to water and I had a coughing jag from the smell. After 15 minutes we decided to start flushing the toilet and running the taps as we weren't sure if the Spanish speaking fellow really meant 15 and not 50. Mostly, it was because we got to the point that we couldn't even stand outside our room without being overtaken by the stench.

With the flushing rampage complete, we decided the best thing to do was head out and explore the area and check out the beaches. Palma Nova certainly caters to the British tourists as there was one pub after another serving chips, beans, peas, chips, beans, and more peas. And it also seemed that all of the pubs had the football game on and guys would be gathered round, beer in hand, yelling at the screens. Despite this, we were able to find a lot of other interesting places to eat and discovered the local grocery store so that we could take food back to our room and cook. Wine was dirt cheap and we were able to make ourselves some nice meals to go with it.

The area was lovely and clean and we had several beaches to choose from. Since we were there at the tail end of the travel season for the island, there was ample room to roam on the beaches and the board walks were not crowded with tourists. This enabled Rick and Chan to enjoy several games of Frisbee and I read peacefully and soaked up the sun on the sand.

Throughout the week, we visited the shops in the area, took a train to Inka to check out the markets, and rode the local bus to the city of Palma. The funny thing is, every once in a while, we would get a whiff on the streets of something that smelled a lot like our hotel bathroom and we started to wonder if there was a sewage problem on the island. The temperatures were in the low 20's, which suited us just fine, but by Thursday, we got a huge wind and rain storm and I thought that our patio doors in our room would shatter. We could also see the sailboats anchored in the bay, bobbing up and down in the grey and angry looking water and I thought of the night last summer when we were in a similar situation in our Northern 29. I suddenly felt super nauseous. It could have been, however, from the remnants of the toilet fumigation.

After the storm, the almighty smell, and a dog across the street that wouldn't stop barking, we asked if we could change rooms. The staff at the hotel was very helpful and nodded their heads when we mentioned the dog. I guess the owners go away and leave it there alone on a regular basis. In fact, several travellers have mentioned the barking dog on travel advisory websites. I felt sorry for the pooch, but I couldn't take his endless yapping either.

Since the hotel was closing for the season the day of our departure, there was an entire wing that was empty so we were given the option to move there for our last two nights. The room lacked the view, but there was no smell (thus abandoning our sewage theory), no barking dog, and we were able to finally get a couple nights of undisturbed sleep. That evening, however, Channing started to complain of a sore throat and by the next day, he had come down with a cold and was feeling pretty rough. It was a good job that we were heading home the next day.

What I liked best about Palma Nova was how easy it was to get around the area by foot and by local bus (very cheap way to travel at about 2 Euros each) and the beaches were clean and picturesque. It reminded me a bit of Daytona Beach in Florida and I can say that I would not want to go there during peak times because I am sure it would be party central.

Going away on a trip is a nice break, but it also makes you appreciate your own home too. I know, given how Chan felt by the time we did get back, he was pretty happy to climb into his own bed. Rick and I were content to just lay there and listen to the sounds of the traffic going by and say, “Listen, no barking dog!”

My Idea of a Good Time

Here is one of the long boats on the canal. Most have beds, kitchens and bathing facilities. It was interesting to see the drivers make their way with these through the canal. They were responsible for switching the locks (no lock masters here) and we wondered how on earth they eventually turned around and apparently it is not done that quickly or easily. Still I was enviously when I watched the boaters putter by with a cup of tea in hand and waving to fools like us gawking at them.

To Be or Not to Be

Took a tour of Stratford, and among other things, had our photos taken at Shakespeare's house. It was a cool and very blustery day, leaves and dirt were whipping around like mad. But we loved the town, the little shops, and brick streets. Most of all, we were fascinated by the long boats that cruised up the canals. Makes me want to sell the sail boat and pick up a long boat and tour England's waterways (not Rick - he likes more action and these boats just chug along).

Our British Thanksgiving

We couldn't find a turkey or pumpkin, but we did have a roast chicken and stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy. Not to mention that the wine here is so reasonable, that we enjoyed a bottle or two of that. Here's a shot of Chan and I in the kitchen before we chowed down on our dinner. Holy cats, the boy has stretched a metre or two! I think it is the British sausage rolls.

Happy Thanksgiving

home•sick Pronunciation: \ˈhōm-ˌsik\Function: adjective, Meaning: longing for home and family while absent from them, home•sick•ness noun

Have you wondered why immigrants create a little Italy or China town? Are you embarrassed to admit that you actually feel miffed at their inability to depart from the lifestyles of their home countries? After all, what is wrong with the country to which they have moved? Didn’t they leave their homelands for a better life? How can they possible integrate into a new culture if they cling onto the past?

Living in England, as a Canadian, is not a drastic leap, but that still doesn’t stop me from missing some things that were a part of my everyday life. Most of all, it has made me more cognisant of how an immigrant must feel when they come to Canada. At least I am not dealing with a language barrier or a lack of family nearby. Still, it feels strange sometimes to be away from my good friends and my eldest son and the step kids, my house in the country, my long term job, and the stores where I would frequently shop. Suddenly, I can understand how challenging it must be for an immigrant that is trying to shop for food and can’t figure out what is a good deal and what is not. How painful it must be when they get on a bus and can’t understand why they ended up at the wrong stop. How strange it must feel when a holiday that was celebrated at home is not recognized in their new country. So if homesickness is the longing for home and family while absent from them, then one could appreciate that the remedy for this is to be with home and family. And since home and family can be many miles away, would it not be reasonable to expect that one would be entitled to replace it somehow, someway?

I am Rick and I like Math

And the ever so popular sticky note rendition of Rick without a shirt.

Mr. Pillowhead

As many of you are probably wondering what I was referring to in my earlier posting of "Lessons from a Boy" in which I mention Channing entertaining us with his skits including Mr. Pillowhead. Here is a shot of him in costume, so you can get an idea of how mortifying this character truly is!

Been there , done that...

Well, it was back to London today. Rick wanted to visit the Sherlock Holmes museum on Baker Street. We also had to stop at the Euston Rail Station to check out the trains to Birmingham for our trip next weekend to see my relatives. Trains run frequently from Dartford to three major stations in London and from there we can either take the Tube or bus around the city. It seems that there is virtually no where that you can’t reach through public transport and if you change your mind about where you want to go, within minutes you head off in another direction exploring and weaving through this fabulous city.

Since it was on Rick’s wish list to visit 221b Baker Street, we hit the gift shop first (notice a theme with our touring?). To my surprise, he passed on purchasing a tie or a t-shirt since they were too expensive (14 pounds for a tie). I did, however, manage to score a solid souvenir which teams up nicely with my Dr. Who badges that I now have pinned to my pack. For 50 p, I got a button that says, “221b Sherlock Holmes Consulting Detective 1881-1904”. I think that the Doctor would be proud to be on display with such a crime solving legend.

While Rick toured the museum, Channing and I relaxed at a cafe around the corner and indulged in a terrific cup of coffee for me and hot chocolate for the boy (so good that he had to ask for a spoon to scoop the cream from the bottom of the cup). They had the most wonderful display of desserts in their window and Chan and I admired the cream cakes with glazed fruit, coconut and chocolate sprinkled on squares, wisps of whip cream on pastries, and even pies to make you drool. As we sat inside, we would watch the pedestrians strolling by and every once in a while one made an abrupt stop to look in the window for a few seconds and then carried on. They were probably thinking the same thing I was, sure looks good, but I better not eat that. I had Channing take a photo of me sitting outside of the cafe with the treats behind me. He asked what the point was in taking a photo if we didn’t eat anything. Typical male! I said that it was so pretty and I wanted to remember how it looked. I also couldn’t get my Granny Mason’s saying out of my head, “A moment on the lips is a lifetime on the hips”.

With Rick’s tour of 221b Baker Street complete and his purchase of a book called, “The Mysterious World of Sherlock Holmes”, we continued our trek and made stops at Piccadilly Circus and watched a truck advertising home repairs blow bubbles out from under the hood (or the bonnet in UK terms). The driver started singing along with Lionel Ritchie’s “Stuck on You”, into a microphone near the steering wheel. Lots of people stopped to take photos and the three of us chuckled and then Rick slapped his forehead in disbelief. I wasn’t sure if he was more interested in advertising his handyman or karaoke abilities. My first impression, unfortunately, was both sucked.

We eventually stumbled onto Harrod’s. We were so fixated on taking photos of the buildings along our journey, that initially we just thought it was another interesting place to admire. But when we noticed the streams of people coming and going and the fur protestors at the store entrance, we realized it was the world famous department store.

Once inside, it was difficult to decide where to go first. The security guards asked the guys to take their back packs off and carry them. I thought we were going to have our bags searched and then it became apparent that it was so that they wouldn’t knock something over. We wandered from perfume to handbags and upstairs past ladies (I am not usually intimated by clothes but I literally made a complete circle in this section of the store, didn’t touch a thing, and walked right back out again) and men’s wear (I kept shushing Rick cause he was practically yelling the prices of things out while we were walking past) to the toy department. Perhaps it was because it was okay to touch and do in this department that we spent the majority of our time and ultimately experienced the most fun.

Channing preferred the station where the sales clerks were demonstrating miniature helicopters. He tried to give it a go himself and the clerk asked if Chan wanted him to lose his job. Oops, not such a good idea to try that, I guess. Chan and I played with slot cars, watched a snow demonstration (yes, my fellow Canadians, they were selling snow making kits for 14.95), skipped over a remote control snake that slithered along the tiles, and tried out some bizarre looking remote control plastic cars with big wheels that flipped like a tuna freshly yanked from the ocean and tossed on deck. Rick wanted a crib board and a deck of card and couldn’t find either, so set out to find a Frisbee. Interestingly enough, even in the world’s largest department store, he couldn’t buy a Wham-o Frisbee. He found a child’s car that will go 19 miles per hour for 20,000, a 20,000 bike, a 100,000 under water propulsion device, and an 80,000 grand piano, but no Wham-o-Frisbee.

When it was all said and done, we had been there, didn’t buy the t-shirt (pretty sure the stuff at the Sherlock Holmes gift shop were looking pretty good now), but settled for a Disc Magic Frisbee for 4.99 and me having a free photo with the door man. However, we did have to listen to Rick complain the whole way home about how this Frisbee paled in comparison to the Wham-o for its soft texture, blah, blah, blah. As a consolation, I did have the addition to my crime fighting hero’s collection and it was "Elementary, my Dear Watson."

Lessons from a Boy

There are times as a parent that I feel like my heart will leap out of my chest with pride for something that my kids have done or said. Yes, there are also times that I want to wring their necks too! Making this move to the UK, as you can all imagine, was a massive undertaking. So many pieces of the puzzle needed to come together in order to make this a reality. Sometimes it feels very surreal, when I am standing in line at the grocery store and listening to a shopper next to me chat on her cell phone in a British accent, or when I look at the menu board in a cafe and they have a "Chip Butty" for a pound. Until that moment, I was under the impression that my mom made up my favourite sandwich of warm chips tucked inside a slice of bread and butter.

This move has shown me that the words, "can't", "impossible", "intimidated", and "never going to happen" don't exist in Channing's world. As my friends, Sophie and Stan like to say about someone that approaches a difficult situation with a strong mental attitude, "He's a 100 percenter". In the short time that we have been here he has eagerly attended his classes and makes a genuine effort to be social, friendly and fit in. He made a friend Tom, a tall athletic lad in Year 11, who now calls for him in the morning and I watch the two of them head off looking so handsome in their school uniforms. At night he goes to movies, rides the buses, plays soccer (sorry football) in a nearby park, and goes for 4 km runs with a group so he can stay fit.

Since we are still without a TV, to entertain us he does skits in the living room such as dancing with the umbrella while half humming and half yodeling "Singing in the Rain", sticking a pillow on his head and clucking like a chicken in a performance of "Mr. Pillowhead", and finally taking three sticky notes and drawing a right breast, a left breast, and the makings of a moustache, sticking them on himself and saying, "Hey look, I am Rick. I like math and I have man boobs." Rick’s straight-faced response is, “Chan, I don’t have a moustache.”

On weekends, he willingly tags along with us as we tour around. He brings his camera to make his next interesting video to go along with the techno music that he has been working on in his spare time. He is producing what I call a Bollywood Techno style song that is excellent and I hope to be able to share this with everyone once he gets his video edited.

I think as adults we like to believe that we have all the answers. It isn’t easy to show our children that sometimes even we struggle in some aspect of life. But I have learned that it is okay for your kids to teach you something. For me, it meant discovering that I want to be a 100 percenter too.

I Need a Hero

Today we took the train to Greenwich, which is the town where Rick stayed in a Hostel when he first arrived in the UK. We heard that there was a great market there, Greenwich Park, the Nautical Museum and, more importantly the Prime Meridian. Rick really wanted to stand on 0 longitude and have his picture taken. Greenwich is a lovely town and it was nice to stroll along the streets and check out the various shops, pubs, and restaurants. We chose a Mexican food restaurant, of all things, to have our lunch. The food was terrific and the sangria filled our bellies for another day of walking. I was optimistic that is wouldn’t be nearly as much travelling on foot as it had been for our tour of London and I prayed to God not at all like our excursion to Bluewater.

In order to reach the area where the Prime Meridian is located, we had to trek through Greenwich Park and up this steep path about 1,500 feet long. I felt sorry for the older folks trying to make their way as even for the three of us that are all in reasonably good shape, it was a workout. As I huffed and puffed up the path, I asked Rick if he thought that people had died of a heart attack trying to get to the top. He agreed that there probably had been a few. Once up there, it was worth the effort as we got a spectacular view of Greenwich, the harbour, and Canary Wharf (the business district in London). Rick stopped in the souvenir shop and picked up a t-shirt and then we waited our turn as so many other tourists snapped photos of friends and family standing on the world renowned site. Chan seemed to be fixated on a Tragically Hip song and wondered where 100 Meridian would be. Neither of us had an answer for him but I think it was more because Rick was so thrilled to be at 0 and wasn’t in the frame of mind to consider 100.

After the photo op, we found another gift shop (probably why all those seniors were almost killing themselves to get up that hill) and Rick got the perfect Science teacher tie with stars and constellations on it. But what made me the most happy was the collection of Dr. Who memorabilia and I couldn’t resist picking something up. Chan got a Dalek poster and I settled on four buttons with different shots from Dr. Who. My favourite was the one with just David Tennant, the actor who currently plays the Doctor. I told the guys that David is most definitely on my “what’s hot” list as I pinned the button on to my right lapel. I thought about starting a collection of crime fighters since I also love Yannick Bisson, the Canadian actor, who plays the lead character of a detective from the late 1800’s, called “Murdoch Mysteries”. The Doctor fights crimes of time and space and Murdoch, those of the past. Chan asked if I had a present day favourite. Nothing came to mind. Well, dry wall guy did but...okay never mind.

When our touring of Greenwich was over and we were on the crowded and noisy train back to Dartford, a group of what I thought were police officers boarded at one of the stops. I had also seen other officers perusing the platform back in Greenwich, and I wondered if they were looking for someone in particular. I kept turning around to see what they were doing as I was hoping to catch them taking someone down and some exciting scene suddenly evolved so I could have a present day crime fighter button. As the train emptied out with each subsequent stop, I was able to change my seat so that I was looking in the direction of where the law makers were standing.

As I shifted in my seat, Rick looked at the guy now sitting next to me (this broad bald fellow who was quietly listening to his MP3) and tapped his nose and mouthed the word, “Nosey”. The big bear of a man laughed then removed his ear buds and explained that they were simply transit officers just doing standard checks. It turns out that he was a Southeastern employee just finishing his shift. Rick saw his ID badge, gestured to him in a steering motion like a five year old boy playing car, and yelled, “Do you drive the train?” I imitated Rick and said sarcastically, “Yeah, Rick, he drives the train.” No, the man said, clearly amused by our antics at this point, he was a shift supervisor.

So I told the guy that I wasn’t being nosey, that I am a writer and I am always looking for a good story. Not only that, but we have to find ways to entertain ourselves since we don’t even own a television. We can’t watch Dr. Who, I explained. I talked about my “what’s hot and what’s not list”, and I pointed to my new button just above my right breast. Rick craned his neck forward as if to get a better look and said, “Oh, that episode’s a rerun anyway. I’ve seen that one before.” After several swats to my moron husband’s shoulder, a good laugh from the man, he pulled out his cell phone to show me something. He said that his son had downloaded this for him. He played the opening theme for Doctor Who and the Dalek saying “Exterminate” for me and then he got off at his stop.

So what I really need to know now is do shift supervisor’s fight crimes?

Coronation Street?

The street we live on is only a 100 metre long dead end street, but the flurry of activity seems to be ongoing. Across from us is the tile shop. In the mornings, and generally more early than I would like, trucks stop by to pick up their shipments. I am always amazed at how these large vehicles manage to manoeuvre their way into and then back out of such a stubby road.

Not long after the deliveries have been dealt with, the sandwich delivery gal shows up tooting her horn loudly several times as she backs up her truck outside the main entrance. I see her laughing and chatting with the guys and I wonder if she is single and if she has a crush on the bald guy that I see carrying orders out to customers’ cars. Not sure what they order, but she rides away with a smile and I think she seems happy with her work.

Couples stop to embrace; boys scoot by on their bikes and skateboards, and an elderly man with a cane and his shopping basket all pass by our kitchen window. A girl crying in her sock feet, maybe she had a fight with her boyfriend, went by and then oddly minutes later another woman whose barefoot walked by cradling her toddler who is dressed only in pyjamas. I wondered where they were going and why neither woman had shoes. Is she broke and can’t afford shoes or do her feet ache and the earth feels good against her soles?

People sit in their cars and eat the fish and chips they most likely bought at shop around the corner. I am curious if they are on the go and need to eat in a hurry or maybe they’re not in the mood for sharing their chips tonight. Cars occasionally zoom by thinking that they can move onto one of the main roads near our house and then do a “U-ey” when they realize that our street is a dead end. Sometimes a stranger parks in our spot and we have to leave a note and kindly ask them to move.

When I swing our bedroom window wide open and pop my head out, I get a terrific view of the Dartford Bridge. It always seems to be packed and traffic moves slowly over the Thames. It is quite pretty at night, though, when it is lit up. I sometimes like to rest on the large sill for a few minutes and get an entirely different view of our street; the place we now call home.

I know is it closing time at the tile shop when the bald guy yanks the large garage type delivery doors down with a clang, he chucks his cigarette butt into the empty lot, and his wife and son come to fetch him.

What's Hot and What's Not

When it comes to the cost of things, I have found that certain things here are unbelievable cheap and others ridiculously expensive. My job while the guys are in school is to scout out the nearby stores and find what’s hot and what’s not. At the end of the day, we tell each other about our experiences and when it is my turn, I like to play something I call, “Deals and Steals”. I pull out the receipt from my purchases, hold up the item and get them to guess how much it costs. My favourite bargain so far is a 440 gram jar of curry sauce for 7 pence. Now, for you Canadians reading my blog, for ease of conversion, just double the price. Tell me where you can buy a 440 gram jar of curry sauce for 14 cents? Let me know when you find one. I made a terrific chicken curry dish with this sauce, so it is now on my “hot” list.

I also found a tube of toothpaste for 17 pence and I just had to buy it to try it out. This is a purchase I regretted, however, because most of that night while Rick and I (mostly Rick) were sleeping; he was breathing his not so minty breath on me. The next day, I went out and bought “Aquafresh” and dumped the other tube. Obviously, this item is not worthy of my “hot” list.

There are at least five thrift shops in the town centre and the British Heart Foundation operations a really nice store. There is a good turnover of stock, the quality and the price of the items, from what I have experienced with similar shopping at home, is quite good too. I bought a black leather purse for 2 pound 50 (by the way there are literally tons of purses to be found at this place and I always think of my good friend, Debbra, and how she would have a fit over this), a pair of top notch “Next” jeans for 4 pound 30 (perfect fit, too, no need for hemming), and a cute three quarter length sleeve jersey knit shirt with grey stripes for 1 pound 99. So thrift store shopping is most certainly on my “hot” list.

Away from shopping for a second, I have to tell you that the most “hot” item of all is the young dry wall guy that is working on the house next door. I really wish he would stop taking off his damn shirt when he comes out to get tools from his truck. Not looking, not looking.....

To help me stay on topic here, what I find unreasonably expensive is the cost of buying a home. For example, the place that we are renting is about 1,200 square feet, 2 bedroom, 1.5 bathrooms, a fenced yard that is about 50’ by 25’ and it would sell for around 220,000 pounds (don’t forget the double factor). It is in a nice area and is brand new mind you, but $400,000! We really struggle with wrapping our heads around how Brits can afford their own homes. Next time I look through the Peterborough real estate section, I won’t go on about how stupid the prices of homes has gotten. So buying a house in England, unless I was loaded, unfortunately will sit on “what’s not” list.

Because I generally like to end my blogs with a positive note, picture this for a second (this is obviously for all of my female readers so sorry guys)....tattoo on the right shoulder, wash board abs, sandy blonde hair......

Pussy cat, pussy cat what did you there?

Today we took the train to London. The recruiting company that hired Rick was offering a free walking tour of the city. About 20 teachers that were hired from mainly Canada and a couple from Australia also attended. There have been times since I arrived here in Dartford that I have forgotten that I am living in the UK. Apart from the accents, life is not so dramatically different from living in Canada, and it wasn’t until our tour reached the Tower Bridge that it hit home. Between the multitude of tourists passing us speaking languages that I couldn’t identify, the Thames River filled with row boats, cruise ships, and barges, and the beautiful stone towers at either side of the river linked together to form one of the many bridges in the city, I couldn’t help but weep. Unlike Toronto, Vancouver, or Ottawa, London is a web of streets and steeped in history. We couldn’t decide where to look first and I hoped that our cameras would capture was much as possible. How could we begin to share our experience with our friends and family? I would venture to say it was majestic, unique, diverse, magnificent, or wondrous, but I could go on forever and still feel as though I have not done the city justice.

The highlight of the day, though, was the variety of acts that took place in Jubilee Gardens. Anything from musicians, to jugglers, and mimes, and then contortionists, even artists, entertained and amazed us as we made our way through the park situated along the Thames. Of course, they were there to make a pound or two and the better the act, the bigger the crowd, and the possibility of return for them more promising. We stopped and took in some of the acts and at one point when the three of us stopped to check out some freakish routine, what I would like to call a creepy genie dude was waving Channing over. At first, I said to Channing, “Hey, little boy, I have some popsicles in my freezer,” which is our code for he is like the pervert on Family Guy (old man with the walker and Chris delivers the paper to him). Despite this, Chan willingly went over to the guy with the oversized gold coloured turban and a squeaky parrot hand puppet. All of the acts to this point had been fun and entertaining so when Chan stood next to him we waited for the drum roll. Instead, all he got was some weird old man dressed in a pathetic homemade Genie costume squeezing the hand puppet up his arm and saying, “How, how, how, how are you,” until he reached Chan’s shoulder. At this point, I think Chan realized that there was no “act” and he froze with an uncomfortable smirk on his face while we struggled with our cameras to take a photo. And this is when Murphy struck. Rick couldn’t get the darn camera to take a photo. “Now hold on a second, Chan,” Rick said. “Oh, wait, that’s not right.” In the meantime, Chan was blurting out instructions to Rick in a desperate attempt to get him to take the damn photo already. When it was all over and we finally got the photo, Chan said, “OMG, I feel like I need a shower.”

Our day out was exhausting and long and we must have travelled at least 10 kms on foot by the time we returned to the train station. We all felt that we could hardly wait to return to London again because today felt so surreal.
That night when we were all lying in bed with our feet aching and so feeling grateful to finally be resting, Chan piped up, “I hope you realize that I am scarred for life now,” cause he couldn’t get creepy genie man out of his head. Rick replied, “Sure makes me look good now, doesn’t it, Chan.”

Chan: “Love you, Rick.”

Rick: “Grrrrr.”

To market, to market...

Every Thursday and Saturday there is a farmer’s market in the town centre. The market that I visited today (Thursday’s) was a cross between a flea market and a carnival. Two fruit vendors were barking and from what I could gather they were not only trying to encourage shoppers to buy from their stands but criticizing their competition. At one point, a vendor got overly animated and slipped off of his podium (aka empty wooden fruit carton) and a customer had to break his fall. He didn’t miss a beat, however, and he and “I have a grocery cart full of oranges man” kept verbally duking it out.

There were several meat and fish vendors selling their wares out of what looked to me like chip trucks. One fellow was standing on a deck outside his truck and he was hauling out various packages of frozen meats like sausages, chicken burgers, and fish sticks. He had two women assisting him and they would “model” the item for sale while he yelled out a description and a price. When I stopped to watched, a crowd, of at least 30, had gathered. If the shopper was interested in an item, they would put up a hand and the “model” would pass it to them. I hate to admit it, but my initial reaction to this scene was that he was handing out free food because people were almost swarming and the women were tossing things about so quickly.

Although, I passed on the truck load of oranges or a bag of frozen cod fillets, I did manage to spot a deal on super glue for one pound and decided to pick that up. With Rick being such a handy guy, I wondered when the urge to fix something would strike him. Perhaps the glue would pacify his Mr. Fixit tendencies since there is virtually nothing to build, tear down, repair or maintain in our new place. Who knows, maybe he and Chan would take turns blotting super glue on each other and arrive at the school as conjoined twins. Hey, maybe that would save us a bundle on bus fares, too. Between a student and a senior’s discount the bus driver would be stymied.

On The Buses

I took the bus to Gravesend today which is about 10 kms north east of Dartford. Chan and I met a woman and her daughter at a bus stop in Longfield yesterday and when I asked her where the best place to get groceries was, she told me, “Asda’s”. Apparently, it is like Walmart. Later, when I checked out the bus route, it turned out that I could catch a bus to Gravesend at our usual place (about 2 minutes from our doorstep) and it would take me right to Asda’s. Cool!

Since Chan started school today, I flew solo and I did have a wee case of the nerves when I hopped on the bus without him. I don’t take public transit much at home – the odd Greyhound or Go Train to Toronto or Niagara. And my experience with city buses from my teenage years was pretty mixed up. The bus I rode from school always stopped at the Psychiatric Hospital to pick up the day patients. There was the young guy that loved the pantyhose ads. He would say, “Sexy legs, sexy legs,” and he would tip his head back and press it against the window and think that he could look up the model’s skirt. Then there was the man with the hole in his face. Since my dad worked nearby at the Correctional Centre he had heard about him. Apparently, he tried to commit suicide by putting a gun up his nose. He successfully blew his nose off. I tried not to stare at him when he got on the bus, but it was so bizarre. Like something out of a horror movie. Probably the most interesting passenger was the extra large teenage looking man that was a skilled nose picker. Fingers went in, booger came out, he sniffed it, then he popped it back into his mouth and the process continued. Many times over, I would like to add.

Once I was seated, I tried to distract myself from the butterflies by observing the scenery but I was drawn to the passengers. Perhaps I was looking for “Sexy Legs” or “Nose Picker Boy”. In front of me, a group of kids, probably 12 or 13 years of age, joked about with each other and I barely caught what they were saying. It was without a doubt, British teenage gibber. Next stop an elderly lady with two canes got on and one of the boys in the group gave up his seat for her. I thought that showed character on his behalf and I appreciated that. I would expect my boys to do the same. Two stops later another elderly lady shuffled on with the assistance of her daughter (I heard her say “Mum” as she directed her to a seat). Another one of the group of teen boys got up and offered his seat which meant that the two seniors were seated facing each other. The second lady recognized the first and the two broke into chatter like old chums. The talkative teens exited at the Bluewater shopping centre which is where I thought they would be heading.

We wove and ambled our way around the narrow streets of Swansombe and then back onto Thames Way past the Ebbsfleet International train station (England’s Gateway), then along a chalk valley (seems to be an abundance of that here), and new housing developments on the River Thames with glass balconies, views, and a hefty price tag too. Not sure if it was the rocking of the bus, the friendly chatter of the elderly ladies, or how every exiting passenger would say, “thank yewwww” or “Cheers” to the driver, but my case of the gitters was gone.

Gravesend stop was next. And off I went with my grocery trolley in tow and all I had to do was follow the signs.

Who's Bad?

It is interesting how we have managed to find ways to entertain ourselves in the evenings due to the lack of a home phone, tv, or internet. For example, tonight when we finished our supper and before we headed out for our nightly walk (we use our map and try to explore somewhere that we haven’t already been), I popped in my newly acquired copy of “Michael Jackson King of Pop” CD which I signed out of the Dartford Library. We discovered that Channing is not built for break dancing. His attempts at spinning on his back reminded me of a drunken 100 year old sea turtle desperately trying to right itself back onto its legs. When the song, “Beat It” came on, I shooed Chan aside and took over our dance floor (aka living room or as they say in England “lounge”).

In high school, I was pretty proud of the fact that I had managed to master a particular dance move that was very popular as a result of the release of Michael’s video “Thriller”. It wasn’t the zombie boogie move or the thrush your hip to the right and grab your crotch pose (Seriously, how many times did Michael do that?). Pretty sure it wasn’t done in this particular video but it didn’t stop my high school class mates from sliding across the floor, shoes kicked off, and feverishly imitating the King of Pop. Yep, I impressed my son and my husband tonight (translation – Channing “Hey, mom. That is pretty cool.” – Rick – slap to the forehead and took another sip of wine). Not only can I do the moonwalk backwards, but forwards too and then change directions mid way and alternate between the two. Once I put socks on, I was really cruising. “Hey, look guys I am doing it backwards.” I slid by the two of them seated at the table. “Now I am moon walking forward.” Then I repeated the moves at least 10 more times. I topped it off with a flip of my heel towards my butt and then kicked forward, thrust my hip to the right and did the crotch pose.

Rick: “Ohkaayy, where’s that map?”

Bev: “We really need to get internet.”

Are We There Yet?

We went for a walk to Bluewater Shopping Centre on Sunday, or should I say, a 3 mile hike. According to our recently acquired map, it appeared to be about as far from our place as Dartford Town Centre. Channing and I had already done the walk downtown earlier to use the internet cafe so it wasn’t like either one of us was looking for some extra exercise. However, Rick had been working on lessons plans all morning and I thought it would be good to get him out for a bit.

About half way there, we (more me than them) realized that it probably would have been better to take the bus. The walking route took us along the freeway (thank goodness for pedestrian walk ways) and virtually past the mall and then finally down into the valley where the shopping centre was situation (which interestingly enough was dug out of a massive chalk pit). We tried to entertain ourselves along the way to keep our spirits up and our feet moving. Once Channing discovered that the majority of white rocks scattered along the path were actually chalk, he wrote, “I am Canadian” on the sidewalk. About 10 steps ahead, Rick wrote “Chan is an idiot” and Channing fought back with, “So is Rick”. I had to tell the two of them to knock it off.

Rick picked what he believed to be blackberries and freaked Chan and me (mostly me, really) out by nibbling on it. We joked about dragging him to the hospital (I would get his feet and Chan his top half because Rick is such a lug head) which we passed a mile earlier. And by the way, it wouldn’t be me doing the explaining to the bloody doctor about how my husband died from being an idiot by sticking god knows what kind of berry into his mouth.

I noticed that countless rosehip bushes and batches of holly bordered the sidewalk too. English Ivy formed a blanket at their roots. There was another kind of bush that looked very much like oversized blueberries. Fortunately, Rick and Channing were too busy flipping a heel at each other’s butts and pretending to toss one another onto the road (I know, mature, eh?) to notice the berries. I was still watching for signs of hives, delirium, or fainting from Rick’s earlier stunt.

I thought of Christmas time back home and how we would pay way too much for a sprig of decorative holly, and here we were passing one lovely bush after another. As well, I would have to visit a health food store to buy rosehips and they would be dried. And the English Ivy would come from the Depot in a tiny plastic pot.
Our outing made me think that sometimes the longer and more difficult path is the most rewarding.

These are a few of my favourite things

Not sure what I find more amusing here in the UK; the switch for the bathroom extractor fan above the doorframe outside of the bathroom, the way I have to remember to look left when I cross the street and bolt like a maniac to get to the other side, how a sales clerk always calls me “love” or “lovie”, the alarm on Rick’s cell phone that says, “It’s seven o’clock; time to get up,” with a British accent, or our combined washer dryer tucked underneath our kitchen cabinets that spun at helicopter speeds for an hour and a half and the clothes came out damp and the colours bled. So much for Rick’s favourite Hawaiian shirt. Looks like I got my Canadian Ass into hotwater.

You're Not in Kansas Anymore, Dorothy

Channing and I headed down to the town centre for our usual daily shopping trip which generally starts with a stop at our coffee shop. Rick discovered this place a couple of days after he arrived. They made a decent cup for cheap. We have decided that the Canadian concept of coffee and Uk’s is quite different. I have to say that Canadians are nuts about their coffee and there is no shortage of places to go to get a good cup of Joe. The guys in this particular shop were quite fascinated by our accents and when they asked where we were from and they tried to guess, one of them said Russia. Russia?! We let them know that we were from Canada and they thought we were just visiting. So we told them that no we had in fact moved here. Then when it came time to pay for our coffee, they gave them to us for free.

Today when we made our stop, I got tea for a change. Then off to the library we went to use the internet. However, Channing was trying to hand me my tea and the lid was not secured to the cup, and the entire contents spilt onto my hand and wrist and scalded it. I dumped the last bit of liquid from my water bottle but I knew this wasn’t going to help my wrist that was now most definitely on fire. I ran to bathroom in library only to find it is occupied. Between my sobbing and my accent, the girl behind the counter wasn’t sure what I was asking for. Another lady, I will call her Amanda the angel, took me to the staff bathroom and ran cold water on it and gave me directions to the Boots Drug store to get it looked at. When I told Amanda that I had just moved here on Monday, she said, “Welcome to Dartford.” She was such a sweetheart and really tried to help me.

Walking to the counter at Boots was like showing up at a walk-in clinic. The pharmacist was amazing. She whipped out these cooling pads and gauze and together she and Channing bandaged me up. Not sure that I would have received that kind of service at a drug store back home.

Back in the town centre, I had to collect my thoughts and rethink our plans for the day. As we stood outside in the square a group of at least five uniformed men and one woman suddenly marched past us. “What the heck? Is that the swat team?” Channing asked. But as they continued on their way, I could see that they had “UK Border Agency” written on the backs of their black vests and they were heading into, oh my goodness, our coffee shop.

Lesson for day four of living in another country; give soda a try.

To Dance or Dine

I delivered our 5 boxes to be shipped out a couple of days ago from the local post office which is located in our General Store. When I stopped by the store a day later, Chris, the owner, said, "I hope you are sitting down," when I arrived to pay for the packages. The total was going to cost nearly $500! I was on my way into town to drop the boys off, so I told him I needed to think about it. It wasn't exactly $100 like Rick thought it would be for all five boxes. When I got in the car and told the boys how much it was, Chan said, "That could buy A LOT of groceries, Mom!" That kid is a practical boy. Either that or he is afraid he won't be able to fill that hollow leg in the near future.

After I finished my running around in town, I went back to the store and Chris let me rummage through the boxes in the back room and I managed to narrow it down to two. I tried to make sure that each of us had a winter/fall coat, some of Rick's ties, his dress pants and a couple of dress shirts, school binders, and important paperwork, . Janet, the girl from the post office, weighed the remaining two boxes at least two more times and I still kept taking stuff out. When I finally reach a price that I was comfortable with, I confessed to Janet that I had sacrificed my tap shoes. “You'll have to hit a thrift shop over there, Bev,” she suggested. I wonder how many other women in my situation would have been willing to sacrifice their favourite pair of shoes.

Family Ties

Rick left tonight. He was like a kid on the first day of school dressed in his favourite Hawaiian shirt and khaki pants, his back pack stuffed, and hair neatly combed. It felt so strange to see him off. I wasn't quite sure what to do after Chan and I waved goodbye and went back inside. It seems that we have been constantly on the go for weeks now putting all of the necessary arrangements in place. With Molly at her mother's now, Keaton moving stuff to his dad's and hanging out with friends, I turned to Channing and said, “Well, I guess it's just you and me now, Bub.” The dynamics of our family was changing again.

The UPS Guy

So I just returned from town doing a ton of running around in the blistering heat and the UPS truck pulled into our drive. “Hey, Chan!” I yelled. “I wonder if this is your passport?” I didn't want to get myself into a knot about this since I only just returned all of the paperwork five days ago. Not to mention that the last time the UPS guy showed up, he was returning my rejected passport application. But being this close to leaving for the UK, I couldn't stand the thought of dealing with another rejection, more delays, and not knowing when we would actually step onto a plane. Channing was in such a hurry to open the envelope that the delivery man had to ask him to hold on a second. “I don't care what you do with it once she signs for it,” he joked. With the UPS guy satisfied that my John Hancock was affixed, my boy ripped the cardboard tab and fished out.........the approved passport followed by a couple of loud Woo-hoos.

The Countdown

Well, Rick's departure is only four days away and we have accomplished so much. Our house is in the best shape ever since I moved in eight years ago. We have rearranged, purged, dumped, recycled, and donated a garage full, two basements worth, as well as, one out building. It is amazing the junk that we have collected (really it is Rick's junk, not mine) over the years. What did we need all of that for anyway? We finally took a breather for the first time this summer and hit the beach in Lakefield. The weather has been deathly lately, and it felt so good to dip in the lake and sit on the beach. Tomorrow we are heading to the marina to wrap up the sailboat and say our farewells to our good friends, Sophie and Stan. I have found that as the days pass and our departure approaches, I am more mindful of how much I love our home and how appreciative I am for the terrific friendships we have acquired. But you know what? There is no reason why we won't find those things in the UK too!

The Waiting Game

My long form birth certificate finally arrived from the UK today, 15 days after I placed the order online. Gee, I am sure glad I paid the extra cash for what I thought was express delivery. In actual fact, what I paid for was not to have it delivered quicker, but processed quicker. Kinda frustrating. So I booted into town and sent Channing's passport off, yet again, with several stickies attached saying, “Rush. Urgent. Please process and return asap.” Not that that will make any difference. It is what it is at this point. Just like with everything else that we have had to plan for our journey. It eventually gets here. Just not always within the time frame we would prefer. Now we sit and wait...again.

What Not to Wear

We pulled the luggage out of the closet on the weekend. We are each taking one large suitcase, one small carry-on style, and a back pack. Narrowing down what to bring is a challenge. Do I take this grey sweater or this pair of pants? Do I need this jacket or these black shoes? I try to envision what I will be doing and where I will be going and the clothes that will work for each situation (what if I happen to run into Paul or Mick). At one point, I felt like I had my entire wardrobe out on our bed! Rick suggested that I try to pack like I am going on a six-week vacation. Twice I have gone through the mound and picked off things that I could live without. I kept reminding myself that if I arrive in the UK fully loaded, it won’t give me much of an excuse to shop now, would it?

Christopher's Inn

We have booked Rick into a hostel in London, well, Greenwich, called, "Christopher's Inn." It sounds like the kind of place that serves cucumber sandwiches, cranberry scones, and earl grey tea. The pictures tell me, however, that he had best search out the local pubs for grub. The rows of metal bunkbeds, simple bedding, and chrome sinks put me in mind of a woman's detention centre and somehow runny oatmeal and burnt toast come to mind. The only difference is that the front desk staff won't be taking Rick's fingerprints and doing a cavity search upon his arrival (we hope)!



One of the pubs that is recommended on their website is called, "Sheppard's Bush" and another is "Hammersmith". Perhaps after he has done a crawl (or two, or three) between the two establishments, he will be looking for "Smith hammered Sheppards in the bush?"



It's a good job that my Canadian Ass will not be arriving the same time as Rick and without my much needed supervision. Rick and Chan can't enter a grocery store without rough housing in the cereal aisle and I am only a few feet away (comparing fibre vs. sugar content, of course). How on earth can I expect cooperation in any shape or form from not one but two asses? Not gonna happen. My Canadian Ass stays put for now. I bought him a leash the other day and I am not afraid to use it.....on Rick that is!

A Journey of a Thousand Miles

It is said that the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. It feels as though I have taken thousands of steps since Rick accepted the teaching job in the UK! It’s time for a pedicure.
Two weeks from today, Rick will be flying to London. We hit a glitch with Channing’s passport so we aren’t all ready to go yet. In hindsight, this probably works out better. With Rick leaving before us, it will give him the chance to check out some places to rent without Chan and me tagging along and needing our numerous bathroom and snack breaks. Rick is a seasoned traveller – I am not – and he is quite comfortable staying in a hostel and living out of a back pack. Okay, I don’t need the Hilton but I do need my pillow and I can’t go for hours on a handful of wheat thins and a cup of coffee. So I am trying to wrap my head around us not leaving as a team and how it will feel being here while Rick has already started our journey.