Oh, to be in England

I am following the Canadian weather reports, and all I can say is that I feel sorry for all of you back there. I really do. This is what we see when we walk up the High Street here in Halstead:



Not that we didn't earn such glories. When the boys and I awoke on Friday, February 1st and looked out the window, we nearly had collective heart failure. It was blizzarding out there, and as we all know, airplanes and blizzards do not mix. It took us two and a half hours to get to Toronto, but we arrived safely thanks to Jason's excellent driving skills. Our takeoff was delayed by just over an hour, what with frozen airport equipment and de-icing and all. To say that our takeoff was a bit bumpy is an understatement, but it was nothing compared to landing in Montreal and then taking off - once again delayed an hour by frantic de-icing. From my seat, as we ascended, I could see the cabin crew in their little jumpseats giving each other The Eyeball. The Eyeball that means "have you made a recent will, because any minute now we are going down in flames."

Things calmed down after half an hour or so, and the rest of the flight was relatively uneventful, except for the usual struggle I have with myself midway over the Atlantic, the one where I feverishly try to talk myself out of jumping out of the plane, sans parachute, screaming "Enough! Enough!"

Nick, Ben and I survived the food, the boredom and the bumps, and arrived safely at Gatwick only an hour late.



So far, we have quite recovered from our jet lag and are loving it here - even though we didn't have the internet connected until three days ago. That, by the way, is my excuse for lack of blogging until now. I promise I'll do better in the days and weeks to come.

Tomorrow we're off to the Colchester Zoo. We're taking a picnic lunch with us, but I'm not sure yet whether I'll take a sweater.

Gloating isn't very nice, is it.

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???

Bon Voyage

John has just left for the airport, chauffeured by Jason, who, it turns out, is much less expensive than limousine service.

We've all been buzzing around over the past two days, helping John make lists and find his sunglasses and weigh his suitcase. He's allowed 30 kilograms, so there were several solomonian choices to be made. Which to take: umbrella or a fistful of photos of our grandson, Hayden? (Photos.) Cql manual or sweater? (Manual.) Extra pajamas or Tim Horton's coffee? (Coffee.) We talked him out of the sunscreen, but we couldn't talk him out of taking along a ziplock bag half-full of English coins, even though they must've weighed nearly a pound.

I think John is excited; I know he's nervous, and I suppose he has every right to be. He's got a lot of hard work to do once he arrives in Halstead - finding a place for us to live and getting ready to meet his new students and colleagues. We're looking forward to hearing from him tomorrow about his trip, and I'll try to post again then. In the meantime, you may attribute any typos in this post to the fact that the little red line under misspelled words is hard to see when you're feeling a bit weepy.

House Hunting

Ever tried looking for a place to live from over 3000 miles away? I have to tell you it's not easy.

We've been scouring the websites of numerous estate agents and letting agents (love that Britspeak) and have even phoned a couple of them. On the whole I'd have to say that these people are not forthcoming with either their interest or their help. One of them, however, Marquis Estates in Halstead, has been a pleasure to talk to. Jonathan White, the Sales and Lettings Manager, has even telephoned us with information, and has faxed us the necessary forms to request accommodation.

As I write, there are two properties available in Halstead that might suit us. One of them is quite spacious (though what we will need space for I don't know, since we will have absolutely no furniture or possessions to accommodate.) It is a two story flat located on the high street in a conservation area (like our 'designated heritage neighbourhood' I'm guessing.) It's over a bank - we'd have good security for sure! The other property is an end terraced, two floor house, located off the main street, with rooms of a much smaller size than the bank flat.

Both are withing walking distance of school for John; this is good. Neither have appliances; this is not good. We can rent said appliances, along with a tv, at a fairly reasonable cost. (Needless to say, we are becoming much more aware of how spoiled and comfortable we are in our Canadian circumstances!) Now we must examine the pros and cons, make a decision, and then figure out how we're going to survive with a fridge that holds only two days worth of groceries at a time.