Shutting this baby down

Hello all,

I will be updating all of my friends via email and Facebook going forward. My gmail account allows me to include more photos with my stories. I have enjoyed running my blog but from a practical stand point, using Facebook and updating by email is a more efficient way to communicate with my friends and family.

So if you would like to be included in my mail outs or check out my daily happenings, send me your email or a friend request through Facebook.

I look forward to keeping in touch with all of you.

bevrobbinsteather@gmail.com

Hold the Bhaji, please!

Well, this past week was a weird one. Just after Rick recovered from the stomach flu, he managed to come down with a nasty cold and was quite ill for 3 days. He is still coughing and not 100% but at least he has his annoying sense of humour back, so that is a good sign (I guess). Although I managed to avoid catching the stomach bug, I am assuming through my attention to frequent hand washing, changing the towels, and being freakishly clean around the house, by Tuesday I had a funny tickle in my throat and an itchy nose of all things. At first I thought it was allergies but by 4:30 pm I was excusing myself from work and heading home on the train with a fever and an uneasiness in my gut.

Backing up to Tuesday morning, though, I got this really weird feeling when I came into work, apart from the throat and nose thing. I had this crazy thought that kept repeating as I rode the train and walked the couple of blocks that it takes to get to KPMG. No, it wasn’t hey why don’t you split this popsicle stand and run away with David Tennent seeing as he is now unemployed and probably desperate for a new companion. This was serious. I tried to dismiss my thinking as silly or crazy and how could I possibly think such things. But as I was getting organized at my desk, the office was unusually quiet, and people seemed anxious. Then they would scoot into a meeting room and return with very grim faces. What was happening? Was someone fired? Is someone ill? And of course, I couldn’t help shake the thoughts I had earlier that oddly enough were about someone taking their life.

So it wasn’t long after that that a gal I work with took me into a meeting room too and finally explained why things were not copacetic today. One of my co-workers, just a young guy with two toddlers, was found dead in his flat by another co-worker. It was Charlie, and Jo was broken up as she told me. Charlie was a soft spoken gentle kind of guy that loved to ride his motorcycle to work and was so excited about having me around to help with their recruiting efforts as I had worked for their competition for 9 months. He was very kind to me, which was comforting being new to the organization, and when he introduced me, he was very complimentary and quick to point out how skilled and experienced I was to others in the department. He even put me on the task of organizing the new grad recruiting effort for the 4 and 5th of October and said he would bet one month’s wages that all 200 new joiners could not possibly get into the building without a hitch on the Monday but if anyone could sort this mess out, Bev could. Thanks, Charlie!

Now I have to give you some background on my experiences with dreaming about something and it coming true. And I am sure you will think it is all a little wacky but I have predicted a pregnancy, an affair, an illness, for example, and even saved a litter of kittens from being mashed in Rick’s car engine, all from premonitions.
So as I sat at my desk and read the announcement that went out to the system after Jo so kindly broke the news to me before hand, I felt chilly. The premonition that I had was actually about the chap that found him but how could I even come to such a conclusion about either of them?

No funeral arrangements have been announced and the bigger the silence becomes the more I feel like I am narrowing it down to what I must have dreamt on Monday night.

And no I didn’t have curry for dinner.

How Many Limeys in a Margarita?

With the boy back home, Rick and I have comfortably slipped into an empty nester’s mode. We spend our weekends socializing with friends (and I have a new Irish friend that I affectionately call Barney), touring the English countryside and seaside villages, and discovering new places to shop. Our new favourite drink is a margarita and we love to sip on a couple of these on a Sunday afternoon and watch an episode or two of "The Inbetweeners". More on that show and the outcome of too many margarita's another time.

Rick still has loads of lesson plans and a ridiculous amount of marking to do, so I take care of the household duties, but I am surprised how natural this all feels for us given that our entire relationship so far has revolved around house, kids, work, house, kids, work. So now that we are kidless, we have been able to also think about getting involved in things that we personally enjoy and with that Rick has also joined a band with a group of teachers from the Leigh, playing the keyboard. They have a gig booked in November for an open mic session at a local pub. I am sure they will draw a good crowd from all of his teacher friends the day that they perform.

Last week, he had a violent case of the stomach flu and was off work, for the first time since I have known him. He was unable to keep anything down for two days his skin was grey, and at one point, I was concerned about him becoming dehydrated. True to Rick’s style, after day three when he managed to keep his breakfast cereal down, he announced that he was going to work. I thought he was nuts as I knew that the moment he walked through the school doors, he would be full on the entire day. He showered, shaved and drove to school instead of walking like he usually does, and managed to pull it off. He was pretty wiped at the end of the day, but his “never surrender” attitude served him well in this case. A couple of early nights to bed after that and by the weekend he was right as rain again. In fact, this has encouraged Rick to focus on losing some weight. He figured his recent purge was a good kick start to a diet.

I am getting into a groove with my new temp role at KPMG. The folks here are very kind and friendly and I feel quite at home in their offices. I already have a good routine running at lunch at least 3 times a week. They have excellent on-site shower and change rooms, and there is an abundance of places to run around Canary Wharf. I find that it is much more pleasant running here, compared to when I worked at EY. Not only is the air less congested with bus and car fumes, smokers puffing on the sidewalks, but more importantly, there is a distinct lack of distracted tourists as well. I can’t tell you the number of times I would be out for a run around London and Tower Bridges and a tourist would plow into me because they were not looking where they were going. It was not uncommon for me to have bruises on my arms from the collisions.

To supplement my running workout, along with my 30 minutes walks to and from the train station, I recently got a pay-as-you-go swimming membership at a leisure/community centre only three stops from my office on the DLR (Docklands Light Railway) and this week my plan is to try out the ladies lunch hour swim time. The membership was super cheap at 2 pounds 80 for the year and each time I swim depending on the time of day it costs up to 3 pounds 35. And the other good news is that their ladies’ sessions and all day Friday swimming are absolutely free. I was astounded that I was able to find such a terrific deal, given that it is in London. When I asked around the office about pool memberships, some were paying upwards of 90 pounds a month to go to the gym. That’s crazy, I thought. I can run for free and there is no way that I am going to blow my budget to go for a swim. So when I did some research on the internet and then scoped out the centre during my lunch hour, I was pretty chuffed. Hey, I am starting to talk like a limey. Wait, I am a limey!

I have filled two notebooks with stories I have written and experiences while commuting on the trains. What a bee hive of activity the trains can be and a gold mine for observing human behaviour. There are some pretty odd characters that ride public transportation, I have found. From applying makeup (and I am talking mascara, foundation, powder, eye shadow, lipstick, the works), to having a very personal phone conversation (telling their doctor that they don’t clean their ears), to snoring with a head tilted back and a mouth wide open (can I please drop something in there?), and even curling one’s hair (despite being crammed up against the window in a hub of four occupied seats), I am not sure what I find more fascinating. I don’t think, however, that any of what I have written is worth sharing at this point, but I feel as though, like staying true to my fitness routine, I am exercising my mind and honing my craft daily.

The photos are of my new winter hat. Gotta love that it isn't a toque. My new offices at Canary Wharf and my Irish friend, Collete, who is a Science teacher at Rick's school (Bob is an English teacher there too - he's in the photos between Colette and me). I named her Barney because her surname is McLarney and it made me think of the Blarney stone and for some reason I wanted to call her Colleen, so to cure this mixup and not to offend her heritage, the name Barney was born.

Also, if any of you are on Facebook, I do more regular updates and photos there. Send me a friend request and we can keep in touch that way too.

Second Time's the Charm

We returned home to Dartford on Wednesday afternoon after a fabulous 10 day tour of Scotland. As I mentioned in my previous blog entry, we found the country to be very similar to Canada, and looking at our video footage and photos makes us want to return again soon.

Camping proved to be a very economical way to travel and when it was all said and done we averaged 60 pounds per day for purchasing souvenirs, food, camping, and gas for the car. Not bad really when you figure that one night’s stay in a hotel could set you back at least that much.

After unloading all of our gear, airing out the tent (we had lots of rain and it was pretty damp when we packed it up last), and pulling something that smelt like really bad cheese out of our cooler (oh look it really is cheese), although I was tired, I realized that it felt good to be home. Hard to believe but it is exactly a year ago that Rick came over to find us a place to live. When we were downtown today getting our produce at the Thursday market, Rick said, “Hey a year ago this time I was wandering the streets of Dartford, looking for a place to stay, and wondering what the hell have I gotten myself into?”

I remember feeling so twisted around in those early weeks. It was as though we had been thrown into the deep end without life jackets. It truly was a sink or swim situation for us. And despite the confusion over how to bank here with all the bloody security measures, buy a ticket at the train station to the right terminal in London, or where to shop to get the best deals, an entire year has passed and we have managed just fine.

Now, Channing has returned safely back to Peterpatch and getting caught up with his pals, hanging with his dad’s side of the family, and hunting for a part-time job. He’ll be returning to TASSS in the fall for Grade 11. It was painful sending him off at the end of July, but I am so incredibly proud of his ability to come and go with such ease. I miss him immensely but this year without him will teach me to reach for things that interest me, like writing and fitness, and focus on Rick and our relationship to a depth that we couldn’t whilst we were raising the four kids in Douro. We have never just been a couple since we met in 2000 and this will be a new and exciting opportunity for us as well.

Rick returns to work next Tuesday and is looking forward to year 2 at the Leigh Academy. When he speaks about his plans for the upcoming school year, he is more at ease and confident. I can tell that the foundation he laid in his challenging first year will help him be even more successful and hopefully enable him to enjoy his job more fully too. Hey, life is too short to not enjoy what you do every day, right?

My contract at EY ended at the beginning of August and I had an awesome send off from the folks I worked with for 9 months. I did alright for myself considering that it was initially a 3 month assignment. They presented me with a lovely bouquet of flowers and a card signed by all of my co-workers wishing me well and thanking me for being the “Super Temp”. I am sure I will maintain the friendships I formed there as I was very fortunate to be working daily with some pretty terrific people.

The good news is that I have another temporary job lined up for September and I am particularly excited about this role. I will be working for KPMG at their brand new offices in Canary Wharf. I will be the Audit Support Staff Assistant Manager, which is a more HR generalist role, instead of entirely focused on recruitment, as I was at EY as a Recruiting Administrator. I will be covering for the tail end of a maternity leave as the incumbent was recently promoted. At this point, I could be there for just a month or two, depending on whether the gal returns as planned, but I am so pleased to be given this opportunity again with another one of the Big 4 international financial companies. I certainly feel that I earned my stripes at EY and as I have discovered, there is no shortage of temporary HR jobs in the nation’s capital when you are skilled, bright, eager, and motivated.

P.S. These are photos before Chan left, at the airport, and a little town just outside of Dartford, that Rick and I fell in love with called, Igtham. The town is so quaint and the pub there serves great antipasto. Oh yes, the beer is good too.

There but for the grace of God go I

We are enjoying a week and a few days here in Scotland doing some camping and really getting a good look at the country. We are amazed at how similar the country side is here to Canada in terms of the evergreen trees, lakes, and mountains. At times, it is very much like northern Ontario and then Alberta with the foothills and straight into B.C. with majestic misty countered mountains. The air is fresh, the people are super friendly, although we find it hard to follow what they are saying with their thick Scottish accents. Rick keeps saying, "Hey, say Haggis or Sporran" everytime we drive pass an elderly Scottish man. I smack him, of course, and remind him how inappropriate that is. But I laugh out loud afterwards. Tonight we are settled in a lovely caravan park just south of Dumfries in the south western part of the country. Compared to most of the campgrounds we have encountered, this one is immaculate. The grounds are nicely kept and it has modern showers and laundry facilities. I feel more at home in a place like this.

Tomorrow we head out of Scotland after being here since a week from Saturday and off to the lake district. What we have found incredibly odd about the trip so far is the number of B & B's that have no vacancy signs. Even the places in the remote parts of the Isle of Skye had no vacancy signs and we just couldn't imagine how all of these places could be full. We imagined that perhaps the owners were away on vacation or they didn't really want guests or they wanted to appear full for tax write off purposes and so on. But as we travelled and encountered so many of these signs we couldn't help but laugh at how odd this seemed.

Secondly, it didn't matter where we were, there would either be a bus stop or a phone booth. Even at the tip of the Isle of Skye, residents could catch a bus or make a call, if they had to. And there were times as we were travelling around the island and it felt like we were the only people on the face of God's earth, that a bus shelter or the famous red phone booth would appear to remind me that no, in fact, civilization did still exist.

Travelling through Scotland has made me realize how small I am and how big God is. I felt like a mere dot as we navigated through the windy roads flanky by massive mountains, the misty clouds surrounding their peeks and the river twisting at their feet. I wanted to say thank you to the Almighty for giving me the eyes to see such amazing things. Sometimes we have to witness his greatness to understand how tiny we are in this world and appreciate that being here, my friends, is not a mere accident but a blessing to be acknowledge every day.

Seaview Holiday Village in Kent

We camped overnight in Whitstable, which is located on the east coast, for Chan’s last weekend in the UK. He flies home on Sunday the 25th of July. Here’s what we find so amusing about British camping. It is almost always an open field (picture a soccer pitch) and rows and rows of campers with an eclectic array of tents, trailers, wind barriers, and shade shelters. I am assuming that British campers like being crammed up together, since these types of campgrounds, we have found, are almost always packed. It is so different from Canadian outdoor holidays, like in Algonquin Park with miles of bush, lakes and peaceful surroundings. Here, the guy at the next plot brought his full sized gas barbecue, another fired up his generator, and then a radio with lousy reception played 80’s music, kids bolted around on their bikes, and a mother chased her wandering toddler. Hey, it is just like being in a subdivision. Not exactly our idea of a relaxing getaway. Well, I could hear the seagulls, the only challenge was the sea view from Seaview Holiday Village was hidden. Why are the descriptions on the internet so deceiving?

So to try and cheer ourselves up, we headed out to Whitstable for the reason we came here in the first place, the amazing seafood. About a 5 minute drive from the camp grounds, we returned to the town we had stumbled upon about 2 months ago. We enjoyed our day so much back then that we decided we just had to come back. Not to mention that Whitstable has an interesting main drag with a great collection of shops, pubs and cafes. While the boys scoped out the best deals on fresh oysters, I shopped at the charity shops scoring a couple of M & S (that’s Marks and Spencer’s for my Canadian friends not something kinky like some of you would be thinking it meant) polka dot cotton skirt for 2 pound 35 and a lovely lacey cream coloured blouse (original price tag of 35 pounds still attached) for slightly more at 5 pounds. Still I think they were deals given their condition and brand.

With my bags in hand, I met up with the boys and we wandered down to the wharf to check out the food stalls. Rick ordered 10 oysters at 50 p a piece and the boys covered them in hot sauce and slurped them down while I sipped on a Sprite. The last time we visited, I did try and eat raw oysters with them, but I just couldn’t handle the fishy smell and the slimy feel inside of my mouth. It was all I could do not to gag as it slid down my throat. Thank goodness I had English ale to chase it down. I could handle them steamed as we have had them in Florida but eating them raw just wasn’t working for me.

Back at the camp ground, we sat and had a couple of drinks and then prepared our dinner amongst the masses. I felt like we were on display. Our accents also tend to draw attention to us, and I cannot tell you the number of times we get called American here. I did manage to pack my Canadian Roots shirt, so as it cooled down in the evening, I put it on and hoped that our neighbours would notice. “Canada” see people, read it,”Canada” not “Canadia” or “America” say “Canada”. It is nice, however, when someone does recognize the accent as Canadian and they comment on how polite we are. Why thank you, I say. But not this weekend.

So the thing about British camping that I don’t find so amusing is how after 11 pm, people don’t turn down their music, or lower the voices, or stop drinking, or do what most considerate people do and go to bed. Granted I can understand that when you are away from home, you like to relax and enjoy but in such a highly communal situation, you can disturb a lot of people in one go. I tried putting in ear plugs and I drifted in and out as I lay on the air mattress in our tent, but I became increasingly frustrated with the lack of courtesy that I could feel my blood pressure rising. It had to have been 2 am by the time I yelled out of our tent to please be quiet to our laughing, drinking, let’s talk about everything and nothing neighbours with the full sized barbeque, and that settled them down. But then another crew started up around 3 am and I just couldn’t take it anymore. So I stuck on my flip flops and trotted over to the offending campers and said in a polite but very curt tone to please be quiet as it is really late and we can’t sleep. The woman inside said oops sorry, but the guy mocked my accent and I thought I would jump on his tent and throttle him. Then I walked away and said I am NOT American and I don’t appreciate the attitude. And she said, well you could have asked nicely. What? Is she serious? They are keeping us up and I said please and thank you and that wasn’t nice? As I headed back into the tent I yelled, I did ask you nicely and you gave me a smart ass answer, now who is rude?

Honestly, when the morning came, we couldn’t get out of there quick enough. I had made up my mind that when we went to the office to check out, I was going to ask for a refund. The funny thing about customer service is that not all businesses get the concept of good customer service. And the folks behind the counter at the Seaview Holiday Village, didn’t disappoint in the it’s not in company policy to give you a refund even though your stay with us sucked and you would never come back response. But I did tell them that I was looking forward to putting a review on Travel Advisor (don’t expect a glowing recommendation) and that I am a writer. The power of words and the internet are my weapons, dear friends. So do me a favour and post a message on your Facebook page that the Seaview Holiday Village in Kent County UK sucks big time and you‘d rather eat a pack of Marmite covered ants then stay at this god forsaken excuse for a British camp ground.

I may be polite, people, but I am NOT a Canadian push over.

Crazy Little Thing Called Love

Yesterday was our 8th wedding anniversary. When we got up in the morning and wished each other a happy anniversary, Rick said, “Can you imagine if on our wedding day, I said in our 8th year of marriage I will be teaching at one of England’s top ten academies, you will be working for one of the Big 4 financial organizations, Chan will be living with us in England, and Keaton will have travelled to Europe?” I am sure I would have thought he was out of his mind. However, here we are and all of the above is true. Pretty awesome, I must say.

So you know how each anniversary has a theme like paper, or silver, or wood, or something really obscure, well we decided that this one was Crazy 8’s so anything goes. Well, on the weekend we were watching excerpts from Glastonbury which is a huge outdoor music festival in Somerset, and a set of Jackson Browne came on. Isn’t it funny how a song can pull you back to a time and place? Well, hearing Jackson Browne instantly made me think of our place in Douro. It reminded me of the times that Rick and I would be alone on a date night sharing a nice home cooked meal, all four patio doors open with a lovely breeze pulling through the family room, and waiting for a brilliant sunset to appear from the west side of our property.

Funny, but since we moved here, I haven’t listened to a lot of our music from home. I have tried to find new songs. This is partly because we don’t have a good stereo system, but really, it makes me home sick. For example, Viva Lavida by Coldplay, would send me into a crying jag in the middle of the grocery store because it reminded me of the time that Rick, Channing, Keaton, and I did our sail boating trip on Lake Simcoe. I can picture Keaton sitting on the deck, the sun shining, and the boat falling and rising with the waves. I used to rule the world, the song says, and I think that it won’t be long before my oldest boy will be trying to do just that. He’ll be heading off to Humber to study journalism and eventually specialize in sports broadcasting. But during this sailing trip, we were facing the world together as a team on the boat, and as tough as the trip got because of the weather being rough, we made it back home no problems, because we did it together.

So last night, when Jackson Browne broke into “Waiting here for you”, I couldn’t help but think of our place and the great times we have had there as a family too and yes, I reached for some tissue. I am such a sap. But I try not to focus too much on the past, as my present has been so unbelievable. I am here, I remind myself, in London in the Royal Alex Theatre, within 100 feet of Jackson Browne, now that in itself is super cool. But the part that is sweetest of all is that I get to do this with my husband of 8 years. Is that crazy, or what?!

Here's some more shots from our camping trip on the Isle of Wight.

The Next Chapter

Gosh, you are probably wondering where we have been lately. So many nights I think that I am going to get to update my blog, and it just hasn’t happened; except for now, of course, as I write this to all of you.

Life is pretty darn good. We received a letter from Chan’s school (and Rick’s too for that matter) that he is going to be presented with an award on Tuesday. Not sure for what subject, but so far he has received one for Science, Music, and English. We are quite excited about this. He also won a few medals at the recent school sports’ day. Guess he rocked at shot put, of all things. Chan has really had an awesome year here and has fit in just swimmingly in the UK.

My temporary contract at EY is finally coming to an end in July and I am looking forward to my next assignment where ever that may be. The agency is looking for something for me and I am hoping to gain some experience in communications or a more generalist HR role. Man, when I get back to KPR, I will be able to run the place. Ha! I have also taken up running again and I have to say that it feels awesome to be strong and healthy again.

Rick has recently picked up a tutoring job of a year 13 girl from the local Grammar School and she is a bright and eager student. She is such a pleasure for Rick to work with and her family are loving and supportive people (Dad’s a doctor and mom’s a pharmacist, so you can understand why Science is important to that family). Anyhow, Rick quite enjoys working with her and he is truly a natural teacher. I just love listening to him use his great sense of humour and passion for the subject with her every Wednesday and Saturday. I find myself listening while I am preparing dinner, doing the laundry, or cleaning house and soaking up the data particularly about human biology. I knew I should have become a nurse! I just love the study of the human body.

Let’s see what else is new with us. Well, we had a week off and went camping on the Isle of Wight and then along the coast of Dorset, Devon and Cornwall. Two places were on my wish list and we managed to make it, not only to Land’s End and Shepton Mallet, (where my mom was born) but to so many other beautiful places along the coast. Land’s end brought me to tears as the last time I was there I was 10 and it had a huge impact on me then as well. Now that we are suited up with all the right gear, we plan on doing some touring of Europe this summer and make the best of this inexpensive form of accommodation.

So I know that all of you are wondering what our plans are for next year and we have had to put a few of you off when you have pressed for answers, and I am sorry about that. Honestly, for weeks we were on a swing set about this and it was so difficult to decide what we should do. The tipping point really was that Rick was guaranteed full time and good paying work here where as back in Ontario the best we could hope for was a long term occasional job or the supply list. Having investing a year in Rick’s education, it wouldn’t seem right to return home to an uncertain future. Additionally, we are quite comfortable here, we can travel, see and do many things, and we felt as though we had just snipped a piece from the corner of the pie. Believe me, it has been hard to be away from our friends, family, and our house, but they will all be there when we come back, God willing.

Chan, however, will be returning home. I really can’t comment too much on this, without feeling as though I will break down. I would be lying if I said I am totally comfortable with this. This is something that will take some time for me to digest and accept. I realize that he is almost 16 years of age and really in two more years, he will be on his way to school or perhaps travelling just like Keaton did. He is already talking about seeing South East Asia. I will miss him like mad and I am so incredibly proud of him and most of all thankful for his willingness to take the leap along with Rick and me. Love you Chan Chan, you’re my rock.

So August will be another chapter in our book. Only this time it will be just the two amigos. It feels strange even writing about it now. Rick and I have never lived alone together and this will enable us to explore things about our relationship that we never could before. Love you too, Ricky Bee!

Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers and ask for guidance as we approach this new and exciting phase of our journey in England.

And the Winner is...

After 20 years in a career in HR with the school board, I managed to score myself an honourable title today. I feel humble, I feel proud, I feel like some brace-faced over achieving teenager at McDonald’s that has scored herself the plaque next to the check out. Yes, today, folks, I was informed that not only had I been nominated but also chosen as the EY temp of the month.

So it is dinner time and Rick and I are sipping on some champagne that we snagged the last time we were in Calais, France, and I have the case of the giggles. It could be the bubbles, or that Chan is also getting a hair cut from Rick and has just announced that he wants to be able to cut a slice through his eyebrow cause that is the cool thing to do. And I remind Rick that at least the boy isn’t asking to get a tattoo or some obnoxious piercing or plays loud durgy music while he buries himself in his dark room for hours. Just let him try it, I say. What is the big deal? At least he isn’t poking pencils in his earlobes and experimenting with dread locks that end up looking like Side Show Bob (I am referring to our beloved Jackson, of course) on crack.

And they head back upstairs and the clippers buzz again and I hear them beaking at each other like they so often do. And when Chan returns back downstairs to show me the end result, I say hey that is interesting, it looks like you have only half an eyebrow now. And he looks disappointed. I think he was hoping for something more dramatic, more impactful, more well, and the giggles set in. I know I shouldn’t laugh at him but it really does look like he is missing a chunk of his brow. But I don’t care, he likes it. It is his choice.

So maybe I haven’t been promoted to head of HR or scored the book deal that I thought I would, but at least my efforts have been recognized.

And with that in mind, I suck up my chuckles and comment on how cool the zip in his forehead looks and then he scoots back upstairs feeling pleased.

Oh yes, and I dyed my hair red. Chan picked out the colour.

Let's Make a Deal

For the first time in my life, I was able to pay cash for a vehicle. Now I realize that it wasn’t an expensive car, so don’t get the impression that all of a sudden I am flush. But when Rick and I went to Chatham today to check out a car we had seen on-line and we were pulling out 20’s to settle the deal, I felt like I was loaded.

After renting a car a few times since arriving, and realizing that it enabled us to really get into the heart of England, we tossed the idea of owing a car around for a few weeks. However, I was concerned that owning a car here wouldn’t fit into our budget, so I quickly dismissed the idea. Still Rick spent time calling and visiting local dealerships, checked out ads on car sales websites, and on Saturday’s would pick up a copy of the Auto Trader newspaper. We were amazed at how inexpensive second-hand cars were, not to mention very plentiful. We also discovered that certain makes and models were in demand and as quickly as they were posted on the web, they would be scooped up. So we had to act fast, if something was of interest to us. Obviously, the vehicles that were hot here are those that are cheap to run and cheap to insure. And it was not unusual to find hundreds of cars under the 1,000 pounds , so once we officially decided to get serious about snagging ourselves a bargain, I felt optimistic we could pull it off.

The chap in Chatham sounded pretty normal when Rick called him in the morning to ask about the 1996 Vauxhall Astra he had listed on Gumtree. Turns out it was his mother-in-law’s car and he was helping her sell it. After they chatted for a bit, they arranged for a time to meet; he even offered to pick us up at the train station and take us to his place.

Now you have to understand that my paranoid OMG I hope he isn’t a psycho instinct kicked in at this point. What if he really doesn’t have a car for sale? What if he robs us and dumps us on some remote country lane? Where would Chan go? How would he know how to reach our landlord if we suddenly perished? Of course, I didn’t vocalize this to Rick, but he probably already gathered that I had all of those crazy things rolling through my mind. Just ask him about the “Condo/Vacation Villa” tour in the streets of Dominican Republic during our honeymoon. See Bev bolt and run.

Anyhow, I managed to keep my feelings of uncertainty to myself until we were waiting for John to pick us up at the train station. I told Rick I was feeling nervous, and he reminded me that not everyone in the world is a mass murderer, which actually pissed me off because I wished he hadn’t guessed right away what was really on my mind. Maybe I was just excited about buying a car? Did he ever think of that? Huh, did you, Rick? Okay, who am I kidding?

Turns out that John was only 23 years old and had three kids and I knew the moment we greeted that he was a kind fella. There was a softness to his eyes as he chatted about being a dad for the first time when he was 16 and how he was still with the same girl. I reminded myself, that the fact he had offered to fetch two complete strangers and allowed us into his vehicle also spoke to his trusting character.

Once at his place, we inspected the car which was parked on the street and then all three of us took it for a spin around the block. The engine sounded good, it had descent pick up going up the hill, and the brakes were fine, the wipers worked, she didn’t smoke in the car, she hadn’t been transporting a dog or a cat, the windows opened and closed, and the heaters were functioning. I don’t have all of the Top Gear terms to describe the car for you, but I can say that it felt solid, and it didn’t ride like a wheel barrow.

So as we were counting out 450 pounds on the iron board and finalizing the deal in their front room, the kids clambering in the kitchen, and John’s mother-in-law telling me to have a seat it looks worse than it is, I thought of how silly I could be. Not just some of the time, my friends, really most of the time. Why do I even entertain such outlandish ideas about strangers? And why did I think that buying a car would have cost us an arm and a leg? Where do these preconceived notions come from?

Return Ticket

I am feeling exceptionally lazy about writing tonight but I did want to share some photos we took this weekend at Leed's castle.

What you do need to know is that our trip there involved riding a bus that had to navigate roads that were so small, cars had to pull aside in some spots to take it in turns passing through.

At one point, a chap that was towing a car behind his, was too hasty and as a result ended up blocking our path. So he tried to back up; several times, but was unsuccessful. Now the old men on the bus were yelling instructions and what sounded like obscenities to the poor guy and the rest of the passengers, including us, were on our feet gawking out the front window. Finally, the bus driver put us in park and hopped into the vehicle being towed in an attempt to get them both out of our path. Back a few feet they would go and invariably swing against the curb. Then forward it came to straighten up and try it all over again only to swing back and jam against the side of the road with nowhere to go. This resulted in more obscenities, fists pumping in the air, more jeering and I finally coaxed Rick to go out and help. God knows, he has had lots of experience with backing up the trailer when we would be dumping wood on the front lawn to be stacked on the porch. But no sooner had he stepped out of the bus, the driver that clearly had no clue how to handle a vehicle in tow, miraculously backed it up far enough for the bus to pass. With the bus driver back behind our wheel this time, we squeezed through the narrow road feeling like we had just come through another dimension in some bizarre episode of Dr. Who. It really was worth the fare of 5 pounds 50, though.