Age is a Royal State of Mind

Funny, but I have never really thought of myself as being older even though I am approaching 45 this May and Keaton will be 20 in July. They say that age is a state of mind and perhaps this is why I still find myself stuck in a time warp between the boys hanging out in the park behind the house on Milford drive, having an Easter egg hunt at the farm, and being an empty nester of sorts and touring the English countryside. I struggle sometimes with doing the right thing for everyone and what feels right for me. Having children presents a natural obstacle in life. Not that that is a bad thing. It is what it is. I love my kids; all four of them. I miss being a family too. But being here in the UK has certainly been a very freeing experience. No mounds of snow to deal with each winter, stacking wood, and freezing my bum off in the middle of February. I especially don’t miss dealing with my ex and his crap (aka his lovely girlfriend) and I am sure anyone who has an ex out there will confess that they too wished that they lived at least an ocean away from them. So back to the age thing. Do you remember when you were say 18 or 22 and you never really gave the actually length of your life any thought? I know that it didn’t really hit me until my mother-in-law announced that she was selling her place and moving into a retirement residence. It happens to all of us. If we are lucky. How could I be so ignorant to believe that life would go on and on with no ending? How arrogant of me. And some of you may say, hey, I would trade you for 45 but when I stopped to think of how close that is to 50, I feel a little freaked out, I must say. But I have no regrets, to be honest. I have raised my kids to be pretty descent citizens, I have their love and respect, I have a spouse that is by no means perfect (and who wants perfect anyway) but is the right partner for me. And now I’ve had the chance to experience life from a whole different angle. I wonder what it will feel like when I get back home.

We are enjoying our last fews months here and recently did an overnighter just outside of Bath in a lovely B&B in Bradford on Avon. Totally feel in love with this village and especially enjoying the train ride though the valley into the city of Bath. Very picturesque. Then this weekend we camped (yes my Canadian friends, camped) in north Essex at a a place called Gosfield Park with a terrific lake and a church that rang the bells on Easter morning while I scrubbed our breakfast dishes. We had a couple of days checking out Suffolk county and absolutely loved the thatched roofs, the narrow and winding roads and hey a beer and wine festival along the way. Sweet deal. And during Rick's last term break we did a four night stay in Benidorm, Spain, and that in itself is a story I am very much looking forward to sharing when we get back home.

So this weekend coming up is the Royal Wedding and Rick and I are at odds about this one. I know he thinks it is a waste of time and it is only two people getting married but I just can't help feeling special for being here while this historical event takes places. I wonder what William's mom would say about her boy tying the knot? Would she approve of his bride-to-be, Kate? And speaking of age, would Diana say, my goodness where did my little man go and for heaven's sake I could be a grandmother soon? But she can't and he will never know. And somehow this makes me even more thankful. Because I may be an ocean away but my kids still make my heart sing and even if I am moving onto the closer side of 50, who the hell cares? Is is not about what the good Lord has given you and making the most of it all? Bloody right, it is.

So for all of you fence sitters out there that have always wanted to do something in particular with your life, what on earth are you waiting for? You will never have enough money, it will never be the perfect time, it will never be easy, it will never involve no sacrifices, it will never make everyone happy, but it will be the one thing that when you get to the end of your life you will never regret.

So on 29th of April when Wills and Kate have the Royal kiss and wave to the public, I will most likely be a sappy fool. It is mostly about being a mom and realizing that at 20 my boy is really not that far off either and more about being here to witness it just like I did when his mom married old "what's his name". And that my friends whether you care about the whole scene or not is just another page in "The Adventures of My Canadian Ass".

I can see me reading this part over again while I am relaxing amongst the roses and wisteria in the gardens of my English retirement home.

Genie in a Bottle

Rick had the most unbelievable and unexpected belated birthday surprise today and I wanted to share the email he sent to our good friend, Stan, to tell him about it.

Here it is:

OK, it's Wednesday night, and as usual, my next few hours will be filled with marking and lesson planning. Team teaching demands that you have full lesson plans for almost every lesson, and "coursework" (taking the place of tests AND exams) means that you also have endless marking. The students are allowed to hand in an assignment as many times as necessary before it passes. Each unit has about 15-20 pieces of coursework, there are two units in a year, there are 60 students in a class, and they hand in every assignment an average of 3 times... well, you do the math.

As a bonus, our science team was "observed" the other day. Observations are very stressful, and you're marked from one to four, one being the highest. You only need to do a few things wrong to get a four, and after that, it doesn't matter if your students are setting each other on fire, or they've decided to string you up... you still get a four. As our team teaching is quite tight, we got a two, which is almost unheard of in our school. Getting a good observation rating has been very difficult since the new principal, Jane, came to our college. She's very structured, lives by OFSTED (the government school rating body) rules, and has little time for teachers who she considers to be inadequate. Between her expectations and my workload, I ended up spending the week off in February simply working on catching up and developing new lesson plans. Not that we could have gone anywhere... Bev has been out of work for 3 months and things tend to be pretty tight around here. Given that it was my birthday in the middle of the week off, however, didn't add to the enjoyment. In fact, it really only added to the stress.

To help forget the endless cycle, I thought that I'd really treat myself. There's an island off the west coast of Scotland that has one road, one pub and one distillery. They make four different kinds of scotch, and the 3 that I've tasted have all been excellent. However, as a fan of the smoky peat flavour which is a characteristic of that area's scotches, I really wanted to pick up a bottle of their top of the line. The island (and distillery, and scotch) is Jura, and the scotch is called "Prophecy". It clearly announces on the box that it is "profoundly peated". It was to be my birthday treat.

There was only one place that I knew I could get it. Go through the Dartford tunnel, battle the traffic to get to "Lakeside" shopping center and find the specialty scotch shop. Did they have it? Absolutely. Did I buy it? The fifty plus pounds for a bottle of scotch, no matter how wonderful, was impossible to justify when that would buy groceries for a week and a half. Maybe another day, I thought, when Bev was working...And so, it was left to my imagination.

Today, I went down to the main lobby to wait for the students. We were going on a field trip to the seaside to do population studies of organisms in the littoral zone. As I waited, the ladies at the front desk told me, "Mr Teather - there's a package here that was delivered for you". I occasionally order necessities like science ties or hard to find lightbulbs online, but had not ordered anything lately. Needless to say, my interest was piqued. The box was a good size and a hefty weight. I had no idea what was inside. As I opened it, a large box wrapped in bubble wrap fell into my hands. Unwrapping it, I almost dropped the entire thing on the floor. In my hands was a factory sealed, original packaging bottle of Jura Prophecy. I was (and you can imagine how hard this would be for me) speechless. Underneath the box was a card with my name on it. Opening it, I found this: Dear Rick. Wishing you a very happy birthday (sorry it is a bit late). We hope you enjoy. A little gift to give you a little smile :)

It was signed "Jane and Megan", my principal and vice principal. I had mentioned my birthday story in passing to Megan last week, but never thought she really took notice. Clearly, it had more impact than I had envisioned, and now, I'm sitting here typing this with a small glass of one of the most wonderful scotches I've ever had. What an unbelievable surprise. I should probably be happier about the 2 in our lesson observation, but this memory will far outlast that one.

A Date Worth Remembering

I can honestly say that I will be glad to see the back side of February. The weather has been mostly bleak and damp and when the sun has crept out from behind those stubborn clouds, I rush to our bedroom window to try and catch some rays on my face. I really believe that we need to have sunshine in our eyes and on our faces otherwise we, or at least I know I would, stay in bed and each carbohydrates until I was bursting.

The good news is that with the overcast skies comes the mild temperatures and the flowers are popping up like crazy right now. Our little flower beds are pickled with the beginnings of tulips and daffodils. And just last week, Rick cut our lawn and we had barbequed hamburgers for his birthday dinner on the 17th. Rick commented on how often his birthday parties as a child were spoiled because of a winter storm and there we were munching on burgers and fries. Still it was an odd birthday for Rick this year. He turned 58. It is hard to believe that such a youthful and vibrant guy is almost 60 and I can’t help but think how short our lives on this earth really are.

Okay, I won’t get too introspective now, but I look at Rick and I still see that spunky guy that met me in the Martini bar 11 years ago on a date I thought would go as all of my other dates before him had gone….badly. But to my surprise, he was not only funny, really funny, but he asked me questions no other man had asked me on a date before. I know what you naughty minded folks are thinking and no they weren’t about that. Anyhoo, he asked me what was my idea of a perfect date, how many pairs of shoes did I own, and what I thought of roller coasters. It was more like a job interview, to be honest, instead of a date. Despite his interrogation, we proceeded from the martini bar to dinner, even though we had only just originally agreed to drinks.

The restaurant happened to be void of any customers and Rick’s line after we ordered our meal of “you can’t imagine how much it cost me to empty this place for you” has been a source of debate over the years. I say it was coincidence and he claims it was arranged. Either way, it led us to his car, after we enjoyed a meal together in the quiet restaurant. We bolted there actually. No, we weren’t trying to nip out without paying our tab; a sudden storm meant we had to dash into his car before saying goodnight and thanks for a lovely evening and all that junk.

We sat listening to the rain hitting the roof and pouring down the windows and he kissed me. He placed one hand on the small of my back and drew me in for what will always be a magical moment for me. I was sure that lightening had hit his car and funnelled through our seats, spun up my spine and zapped my lips. In fact I said out loud, “What was that?” and he replied, “Electricity” confirming my suspicions, that I had been struck. Gosh, I know this all sounds so corny, but honestly when I recall our first date, our first meal, and then our first kiss, I still get the tingles.

Because ultimately my friends our lives spread out in front of us like a fan (another one of Rick’s lines) and it was that kiss that allows me to watch the flowers sprouting up and smell the fresh cut grass in February. And it was Rick turning 58 that made us reflect on how interesting our lives have been together so far and, more importantly, what on earth are we going to do with what the good Lord will continue to provide to us?

I have included some photos taken during our recent trip to Rochester which is known for its connection with Charles Dickens.

Sir, Sir but I don't understand Sir...

Today has to be the most beautiful sunny and mild day we have had in weeks. The sky is a brilliant blue, there are big white fluffy clouds in the sky and the grass is a thick green blanket in our back garden. I wonder how the folks at home are managing this winter and I hear that there has been a big storm in Peterborough and that there was a snow day this week. Funny but Channing put something on his Facebook page the other day about it being -25 and he said he had forgotten how cold it was back home. I wrote back that I was content in my forgetfulness.

The last time I wrote in my blog I asked you folks to let me know what you wanted to know about our lives here in the UK. Our friend Darcy (or Fooch as Ricky calls him – which makes me wonder how on earth he got a nickname like that. I recall a "McGootch" added to the end of Fooch but I am still no further ahead with resolving this puzzle) asked about Rick’s life at school. I thought that was a great suggestion and I would ask Rick to write a blurb but honestly folks he would not have time to do this. So let me begin by giving you some idea of how I see his life as a teacher here in the UK.

Rick’s days are long. He walks to school with this massive pack on his back. It is amazing that he doesn’t throw his back out with the weight of the bloody thing. He leaves our place at 7:50 am and it is only a 10 minute walk to the Leigh. I see this as a good thing because at least he is getting 20 minutes of exercise per day instead of driving to work and getting none. He generally gets home again between 6:00 pm and 7:00 pm as he stays at the school for detentions (and believe me there are no shortage of those), helping students with their course work, to attend staff meetings, call parents, that kind of thing. When he gets home the first thing he does is make himself a scotch and then another one. The number consumed is in direct correlation to the degree of grief he has had from the little darlings that day. After supper, he has to make more phone calls to parents to explain why their little Johnny won’t get his GCSE (don’t even try and get me to explain this for your Canadian people but I think it is like our credits in secondary school) because he uses his time in class to check out Utube videos or keeps talking in class. Then he has marking to do and he literally has a mountain of this. This is no exaggeration, my friends. Each of his classes has 60 students, yes 60, mind you they do team teach with 2 other teachers but I won’t get into that right now. And they do what is known as course work instead of occasional assignments at home and then the final exams. So course work means that there is constant marking for him. It is not unusual for him to be up early on a weekend marking and preparing lessons plans. Our weekends revolve around how much he has to complete for school and we do try and squeeze in some fun time so that he gets a bit of a break.

From my point of view, I think the most challenging thing for Rick would have to be the kids that are unmotivated, lazy, and really don’t see how lucky they are to have the access to good education like they do. In addition, the Leigh is an exceptionally well equipped school, state of the art modern building and when Channing was a student there he was blown away by how amazing the facilities really were. Brand new Mac computers, lovely bright open classrooms, extensive football/rugby pitches, and there are many dedicated and terrific teachers on staff. Funny, but there are a high number of Canadian teachers working at the school, so when Channing was there he was taught by mostly Canadian staff. Not that that should be an issue, I just found it ironic that we come to England for him to be taught by Canadians.

Now I get that there are lazy and unmotivated kids at home too, but what I see here that I don’t think is so rampant at home is the attitude that someone else will take care of me. I see it when people leave garbage on the sidewalks, on the platform, in the trains, on the buses, in the parks. The Brits seem to be of the mindset (and I am sorry to generalize as I do have some great British people in my life and they are not like this) that they don’t need to get an education and work because the government will look after them. And believe me, there is a lot of assistance here for unemployed people. Housing benefits, child care benefits, council tax benefits, and the list goes on. Gee, why would anyone want to put an effort in learning something as stupid and irrelevant as Science, or Math, or English, when they can leave school at 16 and have their flat paid for and get job seekers allowance? And the babies! Gosh, I don’t think I have ever seen so many woman (maybe I should say girls because most are teenagers to be honest) pregnant. There are no problems with declining enrolment here, folks. They are breeders and I am not just saying one or two and generally they are mixed races. Now please don’t misunderstand me I am not against interracial relationships or marriages, it is just kind of odd to see a young woman pushing a buggy down the street with one White child, one Black, and another Indian (don’t worry, it’s okay to say Indian here). There are big families living in tiny houses and I think it would do my head in if I had a life like that. Which makes me wonder if they leave their garbage on the floor and hope that gosh I don’t know who, hey maybe they could pick it up? Now that is silly talk now isn’t it?

Okay, so you are probably all wondering where the good bit in all of this is and I often struggle with how Rick does this every day. Firstly, as most of you who know him well will agree that he is a never surrender type of guy. But to be truthful, although the job is exceedingly more difficult than it is at home, he is challenged. He calls teaching at the Leigh “boot camp” and he truly believes that anything after this will be a breeze (or maybe we are just naive) and his next teaching assignment he will be a whiz with classroom management (mind you I think he is already) and having a class with less than 60 students at a time, will be a piece of cake. I also see that Rick genuinely wants to make a difference for these kids even if they can be difficult. He loves his subject and really wants the kids to feel the same way too. Why just last weekend we were shopping downtown and this young lad about 16 or so came up to us and said “Hey, Sir, I am revising for Biology” and he pulled out his text book from his pack. It was Saturday and the boy was studying Biology, I thought? He was one of Rick’s post 16 students and he was telling us that he had an interview at a university next week to gain entrance to become a teacher. Rick joked with him in his usual goofy way that I see makes the kids gravitate towards him and it actually made me really happy to see them talking like that. It was a special moment for me. My guess is that it was even more so for Rick.

So I guess with teaching here it is like casting out a massive net and most times you haul it back in and there's nothing. But sometimes you cast it and a couple fish get stuck. And the marvelous part is that when you finally catch them and reel them in you realize how grateful you are for not turning your boat around and sailing for home all the other times it came back empty.

Something to Look Forward to

It is January, isn't it? The birds are chirping here, flowers are popping up in our front flower boxes, and when we are out shopping in the market we go without hats, mitts and boots. I honestly don't miss the winters at home. I can't say that I exactly relish days of rain and overcast skies either, but it beats freezing my Canadian, well you know what off, hands down. It is so freeing not having to plaster on the layers before heading outdoors.

I’ve been out of work now since early December and I have been trying to keep myself as entertained as possible while Rick is at school. I have been posting writing challenges on Facebook to keep me motivated and on track. Not easy when I am not involved in classes, writing group, or have a deadline to meet. And yet so easy to avoid it, forget it, and put it aside to do something else. The FB challenges were my way of reaching out to my friends to get the nudge I often need to remind me why I should be writing and what a shame it would be if I didn’t bother. And that is why I have also decided to keep this blog going after all. And thanks to all of you who expressed your disappointment in my blog’s disappearance. I didn’t realize that it was so popular.

Along with my daily writing, I have been job hunting for another temporary or fix term contract position. Looking for work can be a very humbling experience. I have had to develop a thick skin when it comes to rejection of my CV, or following an interview. But each time one of the doors closes, I keep reminding myself of the one that will open. And that door will lead to another and I will be grateful that others have closed behind me. The process of looking for work has also helped me to define what I want in a job, even when it is short term, and what I deserve as a result of my skills and education.

Along with writing and job hunting, the house is so neat and tidy. Crazy the things you will take the time to clean when you are bored silly. But the good thing is along with a clean house; Rick is enjoying freshly made muffins in his lunch and a nice dinner when he comes home from school. But since I haven’t been making any money, I figured I better earn my keep.

It is amazing, however, how we have managed to live on just Rick’s income for the last few weeks. And now that Hoover boy is gone, we certainly don’t make as many visits to the grocery store. Boy, the kid ate a lot, which makes me suddenly think of him and how I miss the big lug. I’ve booked his flights for a visit for two weeks in March and I can hardly wait for him to wrap his arms around me and scoop me up off the floor, like he used to do when he was here last year. It makes me feel like a girl. I am so tiny next to him and it makes me think of the time when I would give him piggy back rides up to bed. What the heck happened?

Channing will be bringing a friend with him from Peterborough, and I am sure they will have a blast hanging out with his old pals from the Leigh Academy. We have already booked the ferry from Dover to France for a day trip so we can take them along the coast. And we can stock up on that cheap French wine, of course. And there will be trips to London, perhaps a castle or two, maybe Stonehenge, and goodness knows where else as there is simply so much to do, but I honestly don’t care because I will get to see my boy again. And we are also hoping to get Keaton and Molly over when they are finished their first year of College and Uni sometime in May. It is nice to have these things to look forward to.

And finally, we went to Morocco over the Christmas break and had an absolutely amazing holiday. The resort was spotless, the staff terrific, and the souks (markets) in Marrakech a once in a lifetime experience. Let’s just say that I didn’t know what was more bizarre, the monkeys on chains, the snake charmers, the motorcycles whizzing by and suddenly donkeys pulling carts, or the dentist that extracted teeth on the spot (without any drugs or hygiene precautions, of course)!

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.