Panic City

Departure Day minus two and counting. Have I started to pack? Nope. Once I start to pack, will I remember everything I will need over the next six months? Nope. Am I going to be ready by 4 p.m. on Friday when Jason appears in hat and coat, keys jinging impatiently, saying "C'mon, let's go"? Nope. In my working life I have organized some really big-ass events, involving whole symphony orchestras, so wouldn't you think I could handle a mere three-person transatlantic junket? Apparently, nope.

Well, at least we will be met at Gatwick Airport by my stalwart husband, who has just purchased a nice little '94 Hyundai Lantra, pictured here:



Little-old-gentleman-driven, 132,000 miles, trunk space for a couple of big suitcases, reasonable head- and leg-room for our gigantic children, and the dealer will buy it back from us at the end of our stay. All this, and only $80 to fill the tank. (Which could explain why a 15-year-old car has only 132,000 miles on it.)

Tomorrow I will see and say bye-bye to my beautiful little grandson Hayden. That's going to hurt. What kind of a Grandma disappears across the ocean mere months before a guy's first birthday? Who could do that to a guy who looks like this?



Wish me luck. After kissing those sweet little cheeks goodbye, packing will seem easy.

Home Sweet Flat

With the paperwork and the transfer of funds all in order, John moved into our home away from home today, a two-bedroom flat on the "first floor" (our second floor) of this building:



No period charm here - poof go all the daydreams about thatched cottages - but the flat is fully furnished, down to a toaster and a vacuum cleaner, and is only a three-minute walk from the school. John has promised to send interior photos tomorrow, so stay tuned.

As far as school is concerned, let's just say that this job is going to be a challenge. The Ramsey School consists of students from 11 to 16 years of age. John will be teaching computers to grade 10's and 11's, and math to grade 7's. He will be meeting 13 classes of students over a 10-day cycle, and will be working in four or five different rooms scattered around the four-building campus. It is an understatement to say that this is not at all like life at Jarvis Public School.

It looks as though the major difficulty of working with this bunch of students - especially the grade 10's - will be discipline. They are going to have to learn that in Mr. Taylor's classroom, we don't send text messages on our cell phones or listen to MP3's, and we pay attention when the teacher is speaking. I was full of foreboding listening to John describe these kids, but he doesn't really seem all that fussed. "Give them time," he says, "and they'll soon see I'm here for the long haul."

I guess that's what 30-odd years in the classroom can do for a person. I'm just glad that person is not me!

Catch 22

John and I have figured out how to have nice, long trans-Atlantic conversations. He phones from a call box, and I phone him right back, taking advantage of our very inexpensive Canadian long distance plan. This may be the first time in my life I have been grateful to Ma Bell.

Today's call from John was a litany of frustrations. The agency he's working through told him he had a meeting today at the school (which, by the way, is called The Ramsey School.) He arrived to find the school and its grounds completely devoid of human life - or nearly so. He eventually found a caretaker who told him that the meeting had actually been scheduled for tomorrow. John then hopped a bus for an hour-long trip into Colchester, in a (fortunately successful) quest to purchase a mobile phone. There was not a single phone to be had in either Halstead or Chelmsford, as apparently every person in this part of Essex received a mobile phone for Christmas!

The biggest fly in John's ointment at the moment, however, is accommodation. In order to qualify to rent a house or flat, you have to have a bank account. In order to set up a bank account, you have to have an address. Something's gotta give, and I can only hope it's not my poor husband's sanity! Never mind, all will be well in the end.

Here's something nice to look at. (Remember, you can see a bigger view by clicking on the image.) This view is at the top of the hill in Halstead High Street. The hill is dominated by the tower of St. Andrew's church, built in 1850. The rest of the church is mainly 14th century. The roof lines of the shops on the right haven't changed in several centuries.

Sigh.

Taking care of business

Since my last post, John has: suffered some mid-Atlantic ill effects of having eaten at Swiss Chalet at the Toronto Airport; landed at Gatwick 10 minutes ahead of schedule, only to wait an hour and a quarter for his suitcase to appear; enjoyed a very quick trip through UK immigration thanks to his Right of Abode visa; spent several long and uncomfortable hours at Victoria Station in London, waiting for a bus to Colchester; and finally arrived safely and soundly at the Dog Inn in Halstead. (Yes, the very same Dog Inn that reviewer John McGraw called "By far the best pub in a beer desert called Halstead."

Beer desert! I'm canceling my ticket...

On a practical note, John has been spending yesterday and today exploring the town, arranging hotel accommodations for the next couple of nights, and looking at two or three rental properties. (Nothing suitable yet.) He has also acquired a library card (atta boy) and made his first domestic purchase, below. I ask you, what more does he need???