Old Finds and New Friends

I sat down to relax and twist around on the boys’ swing set the other day to absorb some sun and peace and quiet before Catherine got back from picking the boys up from school; you know the ones, with the see-saw and the slide on the end. It’s a child’s swing set, but I probably didn’t look all that out of proportion. These last few days have been scorchers so I had my capri’s rolled up and although the sun wasn’t terribly bright, the reflection off my legs was killing me. It sure was delightful, though; one of those "life is beautiful" moments. Later that day, we went to Box Hill; it’s a sort of war memorial that’s actually mentioned in a few Jane Austen books. Don’t ask me which ones, but I have read Pride & Prejudice and the name did sound familiar to me. I took some really nice pictures of the kids there. I realized recently that I can just delete the pictures that aren’t imperative when I need more room, so I posted a few more of the house and such.

Concerning my last entry, I bet there are a few of you who are thinking "You’re in bloody England, quit your griping!" Don’t worry, I absolutely agree with you. Unfortunately, you can’t always control your emotions, but let me just say that there’s a big difference between traveling through another country and living in another country. With that said, I’m settling in quite nicely here and every day that goes by, I find myself feeling more and more at home. Not that I don’t miss my dear friends and family, but it’s a welcome variation from all that I know and this place really is incredible.

I went for another walk yesterday; on one of the hottest days of the year. Most of the bridleways are shaded, but I walked a good 5 km’s to Ashtead and by the time I got back, I was absolutely exhausted. Catherine just came up (it’s just past 9:00pm) and brought me a cup of tea and the last of the cake that I baked yesterday; what a sweetheart, eh? Anyways, there wasn’t much to see when I arrived, but the pathway merged onto a residential street that really could only be accurately described as a lane. It’s common to see houses with names, but every house on this street had plaques on brick posts at the base of the driveways clearly displaying the names that were probably given to them a century ago when the houses were built; things like: "Drovers", "Fox’s Run", "Thirty Trees", "Little Orchard", "Long Reach" and my favorite, "Hawthorne Cottage". Beautiful houses too; it was really charming.

Today I met Martmarie, the South African au pair who lives with friends of Jonathan and Catherine’s. She’s absolutely lovely and it was really nice to have a conversation with someone in my own age group. We’re planning on meeting for "coffee" in the near future and hanging out when we get the chance; this made easier, as I already mentioned, by the fact that she has a vehicle at her disposal. She’s probably going to join me and Nina (my au pair internet friend from Finland) in London the weekend following the next. Speaking of Nina, she’s agreed that spending the night is a good idea, so we’ll be making a weekend of it. A friend of hers (another au pair that’s living in London) will also be joining us, so that makes four; should be a blast.

I went for a stroll through Bookham today too; it’s a really old, quaint little town near Headley. I spent some time wandering in and around a church there and while chatting inside with a local elderly lady, found out that it was built in the 12th century. I don’t know what it is about old and ancient cemeteries, but I just can’t get enough of them. Every time I pass a cemetery, I get absolutely drawn in and will go out of my way to spend time meandering through the headstones. I love reading the names and the dates, I love the way they teeter precariously and look as though there was never a time when they didn’t exist in that very spot; all grey, worn and moss covered (thanks to years of England’s dreary climate). They have such a wonderfully morbid existence, yet even the ones that aren’t standing straight anymore seem to have a certain poise and purpose; I can just hear them all chattering among themselves with their British accents saying things like: "Here comes another one, nosing around like we’re some kind an attraction; if they only knew what we’ve endured…", "Quit your jabbering, do you how many times I’ve seen the back end of a terrier this week?". I just love old things in general, I guess, and all that they’ve seen and being amongst them somehow makes me feel timeless...romantic. All the really old churches here don’t have separate plots of land dedicated to the dead and buried; the headstones are just planted densely and randomly around the property like reproducing lawn ornaments. Even the main paths to the front doors of the churches are lined with them; nothing like a dose of mortality to make those wooden pews feel a little harder on Sunday morning.

It’s always nice to end a post on a random note, so here you go: every other male child in this place is named either Thomas or William…it’s bizarre.

Cheese, please.

I’m finally making use of the bridleways (that’s British for pathways). The paths are all quite skinny and flanked mostly by old forest carpeted with ivy, canopied by a variation of relatively low hanging, plentiful trees, and littered with old, rusting metal fences. Along the way, the forests open up to expose the odd paddock, with either their adjoining estates off in the distance or an expanse of hills and the English countryside just carries on into the horizon. It’s beautiful. They’re actually used mostly for horseback riding, so at times I have to step off to the side to let horse and rider pass. The first time I went for a walk, instead of retracing my steps, I decided to carry on along one of the paths which, according to the signs I was following, led back to Headley road. What I didn’t realize was that I would be coming out a good couple kilometers from the Potters’ driveway. Remember what I said about the back roads? Remember what I said about their driving style? As there is very limited refuge outside the lanes in both directions, this was one of the sketchiest strolls I’ve ever taken. I stayed on the outside of all the corners and sidled up as close as I could to the bushes when cars would whiz past me, but I do admit to getting a few "Are you crazy?" looks from local drivers…won’t do that again.

As most of you might know, I am obsessed with cheese. At home, a typical day includes numerous trips to the fridge for a slice, a chip or a chunk of one of life’s many little pleasures. From day one, there was a noticeable "lack of" here, and this is something that concerned me greatly. Well, Catherine went grocery shopping and the degree of my yearning became evident when I opened the fridge to find cheestrings on the shelf and had to restrain myself from doing an Irish jig around the kitchen. It wasn’t until the day after that there came upon me the perfect moment. I went downstairs, removed one from the fridge as though it were something precious and forbidden and returned to my room, as I had no intentions of being disturbed. I sat down on the edge of my bed, facing the window, carefully removed it from its plastic casing and took the first, wonderful bite. I meant business, so it wasn’t until halfway through that I began peeling it apart and I continued eating it that way, oblivious of both the music from my computer and the boys’ playful screaming outside, until every last fragment was gone. Funny, the things you take for granted. Speaking of things that I love, I came across a great selection of antique books a few days ago which, if you really know me, you know how exciting that is. Upon mentioning them to Catherine, she informed me that they are fully available for my reading pleasure. I have every intention of taking advantage of that gracious offer.

I’m enjoying my time alone with God, but it’s so far quite short and I find that I’m easily distracted. After I read a few verses, I’ll spend some time praying and then a few minutes in silent contemplation; so far, I don’t find that aspect very fruitful. I have a lot to learn. I told you I would try to share what God’s been revealing to me, so here goes: I’m not going to lie to you; the first week had a couple lows. It wasn’t homesickness, mind you, and I never regretted coming here; or wanted to come home, for that matter. The way I was feeling forced me to see how little I saw God as a friend and companion. As much as we say and sing "you’re all I want, you’re all I need", how many of us can actually claim that as their truth? I felt alone; I felt I needed other people. I have been and will be taking this to heart and am working towards establishing a life dependant on God and no other. Read Psalm 63; it’s a good one. On a side note, thank you Angela for mentioning in your comment that you felt I was meant to be here. I already knew that, but it came at just the right time.

P.S.
This comment is just so irrelevant, it deserved a post script: My hair does not like hard water. Even with a trace of conditioner left in, I usually can’t wear it completely down without resembling a scarecrow.

Pictures...finally!

I walked into the kitchen yesterday to find William up to no good. He raided the pantry and that white substance covering the floor, and the child, is flour.

Edward wandered into my room a couple mornings ago to see what I was up to. While he sat on my lap with my ridiculously large studio headphones on (thanks Dad, they sound wicked), listening to music and going through pictures with me, he proceeded to cause strange rumbling sensations on my leg and the subsequent odor was a little too much to bear after about 5 or so minutes of it. You laugh, but you didn’t experience it…trust me…lethal. I checked my leg after I set him down to see if he’d left anything behind. He was clothed at the time, but the kid just loves to be naked; any chance he gets. And if you don’t notice right away, he’s sure to announce it to you. That doesn’t happen very often though, it’s hard to miss; imagine a hyperactive naked 4 year old who’s still (I say still, but we all know you guys never grow out of it) enamored and infatuated with his extremities…never a dull moment.

I finally got outside to read and write in my journal (you don’t think I’m going to post everything that’s going on in this crazy little head of mine, do you?). I found myself a blanket and a sparse little tree that provided just the right combination of sun and shadow. Although we can hear the motorway from where we are, I can easily convince myself that the sound comes from a large flowing body of water rather than a large flowing body of cars. It was heaven; the weather’s been beautiful these last few days. I’ve finally started spending time with my Bible too, something I really wanted to make a point of doing while I’m here. I’m starting slow; a few verses at a time. I’ll try to let you know what God chooses to show me and feel free to keep me accountable because I don’t want a day to go by in the next two months that I don’t dedicate some time towards it. I also enjoyed a couple hours of gardening a few days ago. Catherine bought some flowers at a plant sale at Edwards play group that I offered to plant in the two large stone encased borders in front of the house. My back is sore, but the flowers are beautifully organized, which makes me very happy.

Did you know that the UK has their own "Big Brother"? Jonathan and Catherine watch it, so I’ve sat down with them a few times out of sheer morbid curiosity; like watching a train wreck. It’s on seven days a week, there a channel that feeds live footage from the house and you can watch 24/7 live footage on the internet; people are seriously obsessed with this show.

I’ve been successful at contacting another au pair in the general vicinity. Well, that’s kind of a stretch; she’s a 2 hour train ride from London in the opposite direction. She’s a 19 year old girl from Finland; she can actually speak 4 languages and, fortunately, English is one of them. We’re planning on meeting in London in about 2 weeks; the weekend after I get back from Wales. She takes the bus which takes about 3 hours so instead of her spending 6 hours traveling in one day, I suggested we make a weekend of it and stay in a hostel. I’m still waiting to hear from her on that. The weekend after that, I’ll be going to London with my family too, as Catherine’s brother is in town and they’re taking him sight-seeing; how convenient. I’m also going to be meeting another au pair this week; she’s a 21 year old girl from South Africa who’s been working for a friend of Catherine’s for almost 7 months now. She has her own car, so the benefits might be more then just her possible friendship.

You may have noticed I’ve added some random pictures to the posts. Well, that’s simply because I’m very limited on space when it comes to hosting the photo’s online, so I thought I’d share a few random, and not so random, photo’s this way. And now, finally, for your viewing pleasure, just click to see the house, the horses, and three of the kids. I was waiting until I had a good picture of all the kids, but they’re never still and Henry’s idea of smiling is puckering his face like a 90 year old woman. I’ll add Henry when I get one. There’s so much more of the house that I’d love to show you, but I guess I’ll just have to wait until September.