School – nastybrilliantblighty.com

Summer Hiatus

Nastybrilliantblighty has been on long summer hiatus! It’s been ages since I had anything clever to write about. Even as I read this for the 25th time, I am thinking of binning the whole lot as it is incredibly boring!! Bare with me as I try to get back into writing something worth reading.

The past few months have been without any drama, generally speaking. In August, we had our one year UK anniversary without filing for divorce or booking flights home (wherever home is!). I hear the husband saying he’s ‘comfortable’ here now, and I agree it even feels like ‘home’, but I dare not say it too loud for fear the moving gods might overhear.

The children had six weeks of summer holiday and we tackled our first official UK road trips (queue National Lampoon’s European Vacation Holiday Road theme here): a weekend at Warwick Castle Knight’s Village (pronounced War-ick, not war-Wick), visiting Shakespeare’s home town Stratford-Upon-Avon, and across the Solent to the Isle of Wight (also known locally, but not in the tourist brochures, as Pile of Shite). Our neighbours Posh & Becks say we see more of the country then most English do.

Becks (Matt) swam across the Solent for charity the weekend we were on the island, so we were there to greet his James Bond moment crawling out of the ocean and ripping of his wet suit (alas, we were a bit confused as exactly where this was happening and were a bit lat, but I got this great photo of the lovely couple reuniting). We had a get together at our airB&B enjoying the seaside; we are getting quite close with this family and Posh (Emily) is already dreading us moving away even though it’s far off. Our kids went back and forth between homes all summer and we’ve taken to to drinking in the driveway on Friday night and letting the children run wild, generally bringing down the estate (aka: neighborhood).

My highlight of the summer was our week in Torquay, Devon with our extended family The Clyburn Wadden’s: Billy, Jenn, Nora & Sadie, Sadie who met for the first time. Back in Edmonton, we had a thriving supper club with Billy and Jenn and Ian & Meg, before we all starting breeding and messing up our social lives.

One time our Supper Club went on vacation to Maui with then two year old Aiden, who woke up at before sunrise our first night there. Billy said it sounded like we were “trying to kill a chicken” as husband and I hissed about who was getting up with him while trying not to wake up our childless friends (we failed!).

The tables have now turned and Billy and Jenn are up killing chickens in the night and our precious moppets can turn on their own iPads in the morning while we snore away.

We did not help our tired selves by staying up every night until the early hours of the morning – drinking, talking, laughing, crying, and contemplating the meaning of life. I loved every single minute. Billy and I even got in the kitchen and did some cooking just like old times.

We arranged a date night swap in Torquay (not the swinging variety) where we took turns going out for dinner / watching the children. Both nights we ate at The Elephant, https://www.elephantrestaurant.co.uk. I’m not sure it was the food or that we were not panicked searching the menu for chicken nuggets and cheese pizza, while watching the clock, but the meal was one of the best we had in the UK. The Elephant has had a Michelen star for over 10 years and source the produce from their own 30 acre farm – they have earned that star.

Scotch egg, black pudding, on relish aioli

I got a bit cocky on my child watch night and was taking selfies with various hashtags – #igotthis, #pieceofcake – when I found this little angel Sadie with wet clothes, from crawling through a puddle of pee on the floor. Allie struck a fever shortly after this and things went quickly downhill from there. But we all lived to tell.

The kids went back to school a few weeks ago and so far, so good. Aiden has this sweet, soft and funny teacher who reminds me a little of Gene Wilder. Aiden loves his school and his friends. He is playing Quidditch as an after school club, and is now rocking a retainer to sort out a pretty severe over/under bite. He is still a sweet, silly boy and we are very proud of him – he has done so well with this move.

Allie was less enthusiastic about her return to school but is slowly coming around. She is coming home with all sorts of stories. Last week she told me she likes to do things independently. Her favorite part so far is “Forest School”, one afternoon a week where they basically tromp around the forest to learn – picking apples, finding fairies, and get really dirty. All the kids love it.

I found the end of summer, back to school routine and the complicated scheduling a real mental struggle and was feeling a bit glum at the end of September. I put that all aside for an amazing visit from my birthday twin Danielle and I feel totally on the mend now. What a week we had! I could blog about it, but it’s not for public consumption. We had so much fun, I gained about 8 lbs!!

Looking forward this fall – we have trips planned for Sweden, Edinburgh, a week in Italy with my BFF Naomi, and maybe someplace warmer in April. We have Aunt Peggy coming for the first half of December & Gramma Susan for Christmas. Stay tuned for some (hopefully) more interesting reads this fall.

Italics: English lingo; moppets –moppet (plural moppets) – (colloquial) A child. Often used lovingly or in an affectionate way

Some other pictures from summer 2018 -the weather was unseasonably warm and dry, thanks to global warming.

Spa Day with Jennifer, The Carey Arms & Spa, Babbacombe Beach, Devon

The best thing about Devon – Cream Tea, The Guardhouse Cafe

Milkshake appetizer, The Guardhouse Cafe

My thoughts on English school sports

My mother has this expression – Bozo’s on the Bus– something she says when you just follow along with the what the majority do. “They are just Bozo’s on the bus getting Hormone Replacement Therapy because some doctor prescribed it”. Eating margarine. Circumcision. Statins. Flu jabs. Taking your son to a rugby fixture in the pissing January rain in England.

Yes, we did this. And yes, she called us Bozo’s.

Prologue.

This past January, wishing to go along with the school sports curriculum, to be a team player and for our child NOT to be warped by watching Youtube videos on his iPad, we took Aiden to the school Rugby fixture. The temperature was about 10°C and it was pouring rain. English parents were sporting their Hunter wellies, umbrellas the size of small cars and various other waterproof gear. The North Americans hid out under a sparse patch of trees for shelters and shivered. We were the bozo’s on the bus.

When I commented on the ridiculousness of this situation to the crowd I got a common, “Ahhh…..It’s the English way!” and a laughed off “Welcome to Rugby in January – a tradition!”. Well I’m sorry, but I am giving the middle finger to the English way this time. The kids were soaked. We were cold. It was not fun. The siblings were pissy and (some of) the parents could think of a much better way to spend their Saturday.

(Admittedly, the English might think the same of getting up at 0600 to drive to a cold hockey rink, and they might be right).

The game was played. Some fun was had dancing on the sidelines with his mates (he was not in the starting line up…). But take a look at Aiden’s picture. It makes me cringe. It’s pitiful. It’s a snapshot of a parenting fail. He doesn’t love Rugby. He especially doesn’t like it in the rain. He is a sweet and silly boy without an aggressive bone in his body. He likes fart jokes and all things poo.

IMG_0017

Aiden and I made a deal after this game. He will do his best at games whilst at school, but we can skip the weekend fixtures if we so choose. So this Saturday a few months later, I am being spared the 2.5 hour cricket match (still only 12°C) and the kids are being warped by their iPads. I hope this doesn’t mean they will live in our basement forever lacking life goals and drive, but I’m taking the risk.

Sports are akin to religion in this country, probably more popular. Everybody has a team they follow – football, rugby, cricket. BBC Radio 4 gives equal airtime to Brexit negotiations as they do to which football coach was just sacked. There is a petition in parliament right now to allow Premier League and Championship football clubs to introduce safe standing (rail seating), so fans can have the choice between sitting and standing at football matches. For real.

https://petition.parliament.uk/petitions/207040

It is not all bad though. Some things are done very well like the tradition of tea after the game with the opposing team. I am not talking about a Bear Paws some poor mother had to drag to soccer pitch. I am talking about tea as in a full hot lunch for the kids, and sometimes for the parents. Sandwiches, cakes, sausage rolls, biscuits, coffee and tea. Look at us mums dig in.

…who let this hobo in for tea? (My good friend! We have a habit of taking pictures in which we look like hobos).

Cheese & grated cucumber; egg salad on baguette.

Allie was not a fan of the game in the rain one bit. Post game waterlogged selfie.

Fam jam update: The blog has been dead this long, cold, wet winter. It has taken us a full six months to acclimatize and settle in here. And it is still a process. Some good days, some shit ones. I started a few blogs that were all negative so I binned them, and I am finally getting back to it.

The dew is off the roses at my job and the best thing about it these days is the car. Some of the people I care for and were learning from have left the business, some not by choice. It sucks.

We did a very English thing and went to Lanzarote in the Canary Islands for a week during the kids (long) three week Spring break and it was fantastic. We finally felt up for a bigger trip. Kids had a great time. Only one episode of vomiting and no emergency department visits, which I am calling a win for us. Some other trips are in the works.

Note: Italics for my new English lingo.

Coming soon: 101 definitions of what tea entails here.

Five things you may not see on your school run.

The highlight of this month has been leaving the 19^thCentury cottage and moving into our ultra modern, state of the art home in Otterbourne, a village outside of Winchester.

No, just kidding! No such thing exists here folks! There is a blog post ruminating in my head dedicated solely to the joys of modern English living. Tentative titles: “Life Without Closets”, “The House of a Hundred Ugly Light Fixtures” or “WTF do you mean I have to empty water out of the dryer?”. But I digress….

The real highlight is the new school run. The “school run” is the bane of the modern mothers’ existence. Okay, perhaps two dads, but this is clearly a gendered role. It is the 15-30 minutes of the day in which we drive children to and from school/bus stop. The drive is actually the easy part; the challenge of the school run is getting said children out of bed, clean(ish), dressed, fed and in the car without losing your god damn mind. Getting yourself dressed and presentable is completely optional. Every day it is a race against time and sanity. Every. Single. Day. A few minutes past the magic time you know you can leave by and still make it before the bell rings can turn even the most modest mum into a Formula One driver.

From the cottage, the school run was 45 minutes in one direction, 400 roundabouts and generally speaking – misery. From our new home, the school is only 14 minutes in one direction (7.7 miles). But is a school run like I have never seen because we are living in the English countryside. Hampshire county is made up of loads of small interconnected villages and towns, loads of green countryside and narrow roads.

There are a few different routes to get to the school but the one I love the most includes a very old single lane for last 2 miles. Most of these finds are from that road.

Thatched Roof Cottage

These gems are hidden throughout Hampshire. Google tells me that thatch (tightly packed straw, heather, water reed) was the only roofing material available in the countryside until the late 1800s. And just like taking a lobster sandwich in your school lunch in Nova Scotia back in the day, a thatched roof house became a sign of poverty, but today are highly sought after and a symbol of wealth (rich people took bologna sandwiches by the way).

Covered Bridges

These are all over the place and many of them have train lines above them. This covered bridge fits one car with sharp turns on either side of it. The whole road is single car capacity with many “laybys” you pull into for two cars to pass safely. There are some rules of the English road I have learned, e.g. a flash of high beams from an oncoming car means “you go first”. Drivers here are incredibly courteous and when you let a car go ahead of you there is a mandatory “thank you” wave of the hand. I love it, reminds me of the east coast.

Sheep

Yes sheep, there are lots of them, it’s England. The kids and I often roll down the windows and listen to them bleat when we drive by and give them a holla (when we are not in a hurry…as in only after school). This one sheep is looking right at us. Other animals we see not pictured: horses, cows, deer, partridges.

Pleasantry

This truck below is trimming down the hedge. The man driving it is about 80 years old. He puts a sign out ahead of him saying “Tree Trimming Ahead” and then this homemade sign on the back “Sorry for Delay”. Even in Canada where we apologize for everything I have never seen an apology sign on road equipment before. It’s so English. Polite. Lovely. Kind. Proper.

The Hot Mess Mom

This one is common sight in North America but less so over here. I go for the unwashed and unkept look. I also sport bright colors which is not part of the mum uniform over here. My one friend pointed this out to me as the three North American mums where wearing hot pink and orange at school pick up, the rest in a sea of greys, browns, navy and black.

Allie and Aiden are also now taking the mini bus to school (except on Tuesday because the bus is full??), but I still pick Allie up at 11:40 and Aiden at 4:30. Yes, I put my three year old little girl on the school bus. She loves it. The school bus driver Mr. H is about 70, wears a sports jacket, tie and sweater vest and he personally walks her to the nursery and she loves him. And I love him a little bit as well.

How to spend £1300 on British Prep School Uniforms?

It has been six weeks since my family and I moved to the UK. I am finally sitting down to start my blog. I am not sure it will be good, funny or even long lasting, only time will tell. It certainly will not be perfect and I will learn as a go (setting up was a trickier than I planned!). Aiden started school this week and we are still living in our temporary accommodation at Seaview Cottage, Fawley, UK and really anxious to get settled in our permanent accommodation. Things seem to move slowly here…..husband says it is a bit like Glace Bay, Cape Breton.

We have the privilege of sending the children to a private school whilst here in the UK. I wanted to tell the world about getting the school uniforms together, which is less about school uniforms and more about some of the madness in moving overseas.

We settled on Stroud School as it seemed to be the warmest and less formal of the schools we visited. Nonetheless it has a uniform for both kids: Aiden in Year 3 and Allie in the Nursery. The uniform lists for both kids included no less than 85 items, I kid you not. There are the everyday uniforms and the sports uniforms or sports kit, which for Aiden will be football (aka: soccer), swimming and rugby. Cricket and field hockey uniforms are later. The number of items I cannot even identify is close to fifty percent and I basically ignored it for a few weeks: legionnaire sun hat, velco plimsolls, swimming costume, pinafore, wellie socks, Mistral jacket, gum shield, rucksack, trainers and scrum hat (which thankfully is optional, because I still have no idea what that hat is). Take a look for yourself: https://www.stroud-kes.org.uk/admissions/uniform

Thinking that it would be easier to go in person to the uniform shop was the driver for going to the seaside town of Bournemouth for a few nights with the kids. You know – try on the clothes, figure out the UK sizing, purchase all 85 items in one fell swoop versus going to fifty shops. However, that would assume that the uniform shop actually had a clue and inventory, which were big assumptions on my part.

When we turned up I am still optimistic as we are assigned our very own lovely teenage salesgirl named Beth who grabs a binder, basket and looks keen. I explain that we are new here, need everything and essentially want five of each of the day to day uniform. Beth comes back to the dressing room with one shirt for Aiden, which is too small. I reiterate in my nice Canadian way that we are new to the school, have nothing on the list and we need everything on the list, and suggest maybe she could bring two sizes of the items at one time, for both kids. She comes back with one more shirt for Aiden. It fits and I say, “Great, I’ll take five!”. It is at this point Beth goes to the stockroom, which seems to be located possibly on a different planet and tells me that is: “Out of stock”.

This goes on for about another hour with the stockroom trips getting longer and longer while the kids slowly turn into Children of the Corn and I am in a hot puddle of sweat and rage, until I grab the basket as is and beeline to the cash. Another name I considered for my inaugural blog post was: How I nearly went to jail for killing Beth. For £300, we came home with one pair of trousers, two different sized PE shorts (for the same kid), one dress, one pinafore, two blouses, four different kinds of jackets, a kit bag, and a water bottle and in the end – I ORDERED THE REST OF THE SHIT ONLINE. £1000 later, we still have a few items to purchase.

Like the uniforms, many other things required to get settled are just as complicated. Some days it feels like nothing is easy, e.g.:

I need a physical card reader machine sent from the bank to do any electronic transfer online- for security reasons.
You need the seller’s and buyer’s real estate agents to view a property, there are no key boxes (possible employment strategy).
Paying to park at the grocery store or mall, paying for shopping trolleys, paying to pee at the train station.
Four trips to the Post Office, three sets of passport photos and still no ID card for miss Allie Bear.
Possible 45 roundabouts on the current school run from Fawley to Romsey, four times a day (this will be much better when we get our house..).
A disturbing lack of Starbucks drive throughs and Vietnamese nail salons.

But I digress. We are learning to laugh about it and coming to expect things to be bit a bit more complicated. Aiden survived his first day of school and on day two I forgot the track suit and water bottle, of course, and was late. On his first day, he was up before 7:00AM asking for his uniform and tied his own shoes. I was so proud of him – this is his third new school in three years so lots of mom guilt here. Allie starts the nursery next week after her mandatory transitioning sessions (see, nothing is straightforward).

Note: I tried to italicize some of my new English language. Please do not think I’m a poser for using it so soon but really you must if you want to communicate with people here. If you ask someone for a bathroom you will get the raised eyebrow or strange look. It’s a toilet here, possibly a loo, with toilet roll not toilet paper and you may have to pay 25p to use it.