Not in Kansas Any More...

 It has struck me over the last couple of days, that this housework business is not a temporary nuisance, to be borne for a short while. No, this is a day in day out, eternal mountain of jobs, varying from easy and vaguely interesting to tiring and down right boring. Like Sysiphus who has to push the great heavy boulder up the hill every night only for it to roll back down in the morning, so that he has to repeat the labour again and again never-endingly… It is not going away. What actually hit me today as I was standing in the bathroom pondering over our cornflower blue bath and sink, a relic of the sixties (and only mildly better than the avocado baths which followed in the seventies…), was that the blue sink and bath in question are never ever going to get clean, unless I clean it, and that the heap of clothes in the hamper are there for good unless I wash them, hang them out and iron them, that the kitchen floor is never going to get mopped – and yet it will continue to get dirtier and germier – unless I mop it (I or Dan of course who does do some of these things…) Making sure the children’s uniforms are washed and ironed regularly so they can go to school looking decent is my task and mine alone…

For the last eighteen years, I have had someone coming in to clean my house every weekday. I have, all my adult life, been able to say to myself, “Oh well, Florence/Martha/Judith will get that on Monday morning.” Not to say I have never wielded a mop or a broom, that I have never washed a dish or cleaned an oven – I have done so pretty often (!), but, on those days when it could wait, it definitely waited…

It is not so much that this is all rather annoying and takes rather a lot of my time which I could be using for other things… (agreed)… but it is, I am finding, a pressure. I HAVE to clean the kitchen floor before someone comes round! I HAVE to keep up with dishes or we will simply sink. At the moment our lives are still completely irregular, - out sofa-hunting one day, off to see old friends another, off to a meeting today -  but I am hoping that we will in the next short while manage to get into some kind of routine so that I find that I can fit in the jobs, and share them with the rest of my family, so that it just becomes part of normal life and not an issue…

Last Sunday we visited the second of our link churches. Again it was a warm and friendly experience. We had worked on our power point so that it flowed better and told a story rather than being a random set of photos, and a good crowd stayed after church to watch it, followed by a great discussion.

I was amazed going through our recent Uganda photos – but how could I have forgotten so soon? – how bright and incredible all the colours are  - the birds outrageously blue or scarlet or yellow, the sky so blue, the grass SO green, people’s clothing, the bougainvilleaea and the hibiscus, the market stalls covered in a rainbow of fruit, - all made more glowing by the intense sunlight. Here in England we are entering autumn, where the sun is lower in the sky (yes we have actually had a lot of sunshine…!), and the colours are gentle and muted, the trees already turning from green to tawny browns, golds and reds. We do have flowering bushes in our garden, and roses, pansies, sweet purple wood cyclamen and primroses, and the two big old apple trees which are dripping with large red and green fruit, but, it looks nothing like those vividly colourful photos of Uganda.

Sometimes we miss sitting on our verandah watching the birds pecking around in our crazy flowering trees and hopping around the pottery bird bath. Sometimes I see a movement in a tree here and think, Monkey? and then realise that never in this dispensation will a monkey be seen swinging and jumping through the trees in this garden. Sometimes a memory or a thought makes me flash back to Uganda and our home there, and I miss it so much it hurts.

But there are things I am also very relieved to have left behind, like the ants gathering on plates by the sink, and the cockroaches, the dust lurking on and under the bottom shelves of everything, and the heat, and the traffic. It is a mixture of relief and sadness. I badly want to see all my friends there (you who are reading this!), but I am loving meeting up again with even older friends here. Feeling kind of stretched between two worlds. Ah well, time to do the dishes…   

Moving again...

This week I have definitely been on the roller coaster, with amazingly happy moments bursting up against a few unpredicted downturns. 

The great things that have made me feel up up up include how well Abby and Alex are getting on at their new schools, with making friends especially, and coping with the work well; also, our move last Saturday into a bigger, light and sunny house with a garden on both sides full of apples and autumn colours; our container arriving on Saturday morning, and the ensuing reunion with familiar things; most especially, Sunday lunch with our new neighbours, who happen to be a wonderful Kenyan family called the Itumus. John is the rector of the church just a few hundred yards up the road. We went there on Sunday morning and all enjoyed their informal family service. Strangely enough, we already knew John because he used to be on the team at my brother’s church in London! We spent hours with them on Sunday talking about Kenya, Uganda, the church there and in England, bishops, Zimbabwe, our pasts, our possible futures, food, work… it was such good fun and we are deeply heartened to have lovely African friends living right next door, who have said we can come over to borrow salt any time. In addition to all that we also had another meal out at more new friends’, a couple whose son, James, is in Alex’s year group at school, and the boys have really hit it off and become great friends already. They were missionaries in Bangladesh a few years ago.

In addition to all of that, we have also had visits from TWO English friends we know from Uganda! Fishy, who works in Jinja, has been here for a short working visit and came for lunch, and Isabel came to collect the boxes that they had put on our container. It was so lovely to talk about Uganda with them and about resettling particularly with Isabel.

In the face of all these great things happening in the space of five days, my emotions have several times suddenly swung down and I have felt overwhelmingly tired. Things that trigger it have included: moving again so soon, but, unavoidably we feel; seeing friends from Uganda was a high but then left a low feeling afterward; yes unwrapping familiar china, furniture, books, curtains etc was like Christmas all over again – but finding it all so dusty and dirty from the container – everything needs either washing (though we did wash most things before we packed them), serious dusting, or throwing away. Towels that looked pretty white and clean there look brown and dirty here compared to newly bought ones. (Note to future returnees – do not bring old towels back with you…) Incidentally we had a chance to say hello and goodbye to those small shiny brown fast-running creatures once more, - for the last time, we sincerely hope! I was hoping the unpacking guys didn't notice them! There were also a lot of small spiders in the container, hence cobwebs everywhere… Then trying to decide where to put furniture which involves hefting it all around several times in each room to try it out, disagreeing with Dan about how many bookshelves we can tolerate in the living room, disagreeing about putting bookshelves at the ends of people’s beds, and about putting the headboards of beds in the middle of the room instead of against the wall… you get the picture…

Also Abby has been hit with her first true English head cold, caught from class-mates. Poor thing, but she is getting better day by day.

We are in a hurry to get the house in order because are in a hurry to feel settled and at home. But maybe I just need another measure of patience, to allow this transition to unroll at the right pace. One day at a time.

New schools...

It is very early to say much, but I thought I would just write something short about our children's experience in their new schools.

Alex is going to a big primary school in our part of Gloucester. He looks smart in a dark green sweatshirt and grey trousers. I asked him how school here compares with school in Uganda (where they went to a lovely small friendly international primary school.) Alex had two things to say: 1. his school in England is much bigger - there are 120 in each year group, divided into four classes of thirty. So even though the playground and field are way bigger than at the school in Kampala, it is also way more crowded. At playtimes they play crazy games of football, with fifty children on each side, ending up beating on each other and then all being banned from the football field - which is really great fun!
2. Here in England, all the children look the same - they all have freckles and short hair. That is Alex's perspective. It is true that in his school in Uganda, there were children from 30 different countries, and only ever one other English child at most. At least two thirds of the school were African children from Uganda or elsewhere. In his school here, all the children seem to be English, although there are different ethnic backgrounds represented - but way in the minority.

Alex is loving his school. We were very fortunate to have lunch with a former missionary family the day before school started, who invited round another family, whose twin children are in Alex's year group. James, the boy twin, has been a good friend to Alex already, and showed him around on the first day, and plays with him every break time. Alex said on the first evening, "If it wasn't for James, I would be dead!" Meaning that James had helped him so much. Alex is really happy, is doing well already and had a piece of writing read out in class today. So far so good!!!

Abigail is going to a school in the middle of Gloucester. It is the cathedral school, so the Gloucester cathedral choristers go there. So every morning the children get to have their school assembly right in the cathedral. How amazing. Not only is it an ancient, Norman cathedral ie at least a thousand years old, it is also the place where some of the Harry Potter scenes have been filmed - if you remember where the cat, Mrs Norris, is found petrified in a corridor... that corridor is in Gloucester cathedral. Abby wears a gorgeous, old-fashioned uniform, tie, blazer and all, and fortunately she loves it. She is in a class of sixteen children of whom only four are girls! We think this is good as it means that the four girls have immediately bonded and spend all the playtimes together. As Abby is usually shy at first, I am so so happy to hear her talk about these new friends already and what they have done together. (Today she said they played in the garden, "and we had a gravel fight. We tried to put it in each others' hair." Hmm, great!) Apparently the boys in her class are gross, and talk about exploding guinea pigs etc. Thank goodness she is used to that having Alex as her brother.

When I asked Abby how school here compares with Uganda, she just said, "It is a whole different world." Which it is, of course, - she is at the epitome of a traditional English school beset with rules, uniform, homework timetables, sports (referred to as "games") like hockey, and traditional names for everything, such as "the Michaelmas Term" (meaning this Sept-Dec term). Abby was scared going in on the first day, and I think I was even more scared than she - but, she has loved it so far and already asked me if she can stay there next year! We do hope so!

I am so relieved and thankful to be at this point, that the children are finding their way round their new schools, making friends, and seem happy. I can only praise God for it.

The "stuff" is coming!

I am waiting for Abigail to return from her first day at school, which is tomorrow, before I say anything about the whole school adjustment thing...

In the meantime, we were told last week that our container had cleared (so the zebra and warthog skulls made it through!!)

So this coming Saturday, we are moving to our new rental house in the morning, and the container is being delivered in the afternoon.

My first reaction at the prospect was one of great relief - the various hazards and possibilities have all been avoided - container going off course to India, container sinking, container being intercepted by Somali pirates... - neither did it arrive far too early, nor has it kept us waiting for two months after our arrival... all pretty perfect. When we waved it off back then it seemed very unlikely we would really see it ever again...

My second reaction was an unexpected, but definite, sinking feeling. When we packed everything into that huge iron box, on 14th June (my birthday), thankfully I was out all day as it was my Kampala school trip day. So I got home that afternoon to find our house bare - red cement floors completely exposed, cracks and all. Each bedroom had a corner full of suitcases, and there was the small cane sofa and a table and chairs - but otherwise, bare walls, no books, no pictures, no curtains... The kitchen cupboards only had a set of plates I had borrowed, one saucepan, one sharp knife, and not much else. Instead of being awful and difficult, it was freeing! So much open, undemanding space! White clear walls - it was like opening up your head and clearing out all the rubbish! You might remember the last scene in Out of Africa, when Karen Blixen, about to leave Kenya, is sitting elegantly in her jodhpurs by her fireplace with just a few roped-up boxes around, saying, "We could have lived like thees olways" or something. I had the same sensation.

When we were moving around the US of course it was different, but still, living out of a suitcase with only two pairs of shoes and, OK, quite a lot of clothes. Then we moved into our little Gloucester house in mid August, but still only with our suitcases. Since we knew that we wouldn't be here for very long, we did not furnish the house more than with bare essentials - or with stuff I knew we would definitely take to a bigger house. I got beds for the children, a cupboard for their clothes, a washing machine and a fridge, a table and four chairs, and a TV (yes, essential - for watching the news, of course!) - and a futon for Dan and me to sleep on (all the above second-hand let it be noted!)

So the house still looks pretty bare, apart from the children's bedroom. Every evening Dan and I turn the futon in the sitting room from sofa to bed (we need it to function as both), climb in and watch the news and late-night TV, drinking sherry (yay!!), and we feel as though we are on holiday, staying in a hotel room! It is actually so nice. Living without all our stuff has been a good kind of limbo, a break from it all. Do we really want it all back?

But then again... My third reaction has been "bring it bring it bring it!" - I can't wait to have a cafetiere (French press) again and make real coffee. And my own comfy bed after the very firm futon mattress. My long mirror so that I can actually check my appearance before going out.
The toaster! No more toasting bread under the grill! My whisk and masher and cake tins! My watercolours!

So it turns out that I am not an ascetic after all. But I really haven't minded playing at it for a couple of months.

"Oh Florence..." OR "Seeing is believing..." - photos by Abigail Button

Stones or Bread?

 In the last two days we have had two great breakthroughs, but oh so slowly in the  materialising… One unavoidable aspect of this resettling business is definitely the patience required, which has been sorely tested, especially over the last few days.

I was definitely beginning to feel the strain yesterday lunchtime, as we still didn’t know for sure which school Alex was going to, today being the last possible day to buy his uniform. We were also waiting to hear if we had been accepted by a letting agent to be tenants in a bigger house, a house which we had visited and really liked, and was available for a very reasonable rent, within walking distance of the college where Dan will be working. We needed to know because… we have just been contacted by our container company that our container has cleared and has to be delivered in the next few days – where to? If we are still in our current house, we wouldn’t have room for more than an eighth of what is in that container! Help! I felt yesterday as if I was juggling a hundred balls, they were all up in the air and all about to fall on my head in the very near future and I had no conrol over any of them!

Yesterday lunchtime, this was the position with Alex’s school… We had been offered our third choice of school, which was OK but about a 15 minute drive away in rush hour. So, not ideal. But we had gone in person to both our first two choices. School number one said they were definitely full so there was nothing they could do. School number two said that they could possibly take him, but only if we made an appeal to the Local Education Authority, which is a bit of a long procedure and can take a few weeks… So, we were deciding to settle for school number three – with the longer drive. But, with a lovely Christian head teacher, so that was encouraging.

But I was feeling a bit disappointed as I had set my heart on school number one. Sitting in the garden with Dan, drinking a coffee, perched on some bricks – nothing else to sit on – I wondered why God would not have answered our prayers for Alex’s school, why it had to be such a complicated procedure which is so pedantic and yet the results then seem so random – and feeling that maybe our prayers, like our school applications, get ignored and we just get given what someone above deems to be right – in fact, beginning to feel sorry for myself about the whole thing… when I remembered the words of Jesus, “Which of you fathers, if his son asks him for bread, would give him a stone instead?” Thinking on this I realised, that if Alex was given a place at our school number three, this would be a good gift for us, not a stone. I need to trust God that he is giving us bread, not stones – I need to acknowledge that God knows infinitely more than I do about it all.

As this was sinking in and I was beginning to feel more confident about Alex going to the school, the phone rang… Not any of the schools – but, the Letting Agent! Telling us our credit history check had gone through OK (amazingly considering we have been living abroad for eight years), and we were accepted as tenants at the house we wanted. Great news! Hooray hooray! We can move in on the 10^th September (only just over a week away!) and our container can be delivered straight to that address – and it has room for all our stuff – and two big sunny downstairs rooms, and three bedrooms so Abigail can have her purple room and Alex his red white and blue… And two old apple trees in the garden. So much to be thankful for.

Went to bed still not sure where Alex was going to school. But it was the last day to buy uniform, so, we went along to the uniform shop, and decided to just buy the standard grey trousers and white shirt, but wait on the school-specific sweatshirt. I was actually at the till, paying for these, when the phone call came from our School Number One! Telling us that someone had withdrawn, so they could give Alex a place! All we had to do is turn up on Monday morning. She said, “I’m not sure what you should do about getting the uniform” and I said, “Don’t worry – I’m in the shop now!” She was rather surprised!

I am disproportionately happy about this outcome. Dan says my emotional state shouldn’t depend so much on things like this. What can I say? I have spent almost the entire twelve months trying to get Abby and Alex places in English schools, going through plans A, B, C, D and back again. For Abby we knew eventually in May, for Alex we had to wait until two days before term starts… but they are both in wonderful schools, and that is huge as far as I am concerned! I have known for a long time that God acts in his own time, and he teaches us along the way. And I have learned through this, that God is the giver of good gifts to his children and that I shouldn’t second-guess him.

So Alex starts on Monday morning at 8.40 am. Abby  starts on Wednesday morning at 8.30. It will be interesting to see how they settle in, and how they find school different here from their lovely experience of school in Uganda. They have already discovered one difference – having to wear black shoes, and socks! What was wrong with wearing broken crocs to school anyway?