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.