Home from the Highlands

I loved our recent camping trip. The Highlands are beautiful. Mountainous and remote; it's not often that one gets a feeling of space and emptiness in the United Kingdom, so we relished it. I wish we could have stayed longer. Scenery aside, the kids always get on so well when we're outdoors, and life is so uncomplicated. Meals, for instance, are so quick and easy, and we're always so hungry that they taste fabulous. Am toying with the idea of getting rid of all our current kitchen equipment and sticking to using the gas primus and the five enamel plates and cups that we use on camping trips.




We didn't book any campsites before we left, but the ones we stumbled across were lovely.





Aside from the midges. At first we didn't think they were too bad, but after a while ... aaargh! Horrible burny itchy bites that stick around for days. Midges in your hair are horrible; we now understand why people buy these funny looking helmet thingies. And the thought of using Midge as a pet name (as in The Various, a book which Sophie read recently), seems completely inappropriate.

My natural tendency is to want to sort everything out before we go on a trip, and book ahead; I'm coming around to doing things more spontaneously though, as the campsites we've booked online have often been disappointing compared to the ones we've found serendipitously.

The first campsite was at Glencoe; this picture was taken during a walk up the mountain. They filmed some of the Harry Potter movies here; I can see why.





This is Castle Stalker - for Monty Python fans, it's Castle Aaargggghhh, from Monty Python and the Holy Grail.





And this is Stephen, on the rather scary wire bridge at the base of Ben Nevis. We didn't climb Ben Nevis, much to Bobby's disappointment - since the kids just had trainers on, and we didn't have any cold weather gear, I vetoed it. Next time we'll come better prepared.





Two more castles - Castle Urquhart, on the shores of Loch Ness





and Castle Cawdor. Many bad Macbeth-inspired jokes were made.





More pictures of the second campsite we stayed at, as well as Oban and various family members, are here.

The road trip itself went well, largely because I made a giant sacrifice, and let Stephen and his long legs travel in the front with Bobby while I went in the back with girls. Hence, the car was a squabble and shove-free zone. We also all really got into the book-on-tape which we'd taken with us - Noughts and Crosses, by Malorie Blackman. It's aimed at young adults I think; a very good way of getting people to realise what apartheid was like. Some parts of it were almost too adult for Sophie but I think she was okay with it. Malorie Blackman does not seem to be the most subtle writer in the world, but the book certainly held everyone's attention, and sparked a lot of discussion. And it made Bobby and me remember how things used to be in South Africa... So odd to think that when I was pregnant with Stephen we were doing things like go to Free The Beaches protests. Seems like another world.

Pictures speak louder than words

We celebrated Sophie's 11th birthday today. (Her real birthday is on Tuesday, but we'll be camping then, so it seemed better to have the celebration today, so that the whole day could be about her.)

Here she is, with Emily tucked up with her, before breakfast ... still my snuggly baby girls... (and, just for the record, every child does have his or her own bed...)





Last year we'd wanted to Go Ape, but Soph wasn't tall enough; this year, after putting immense psychic energy into the task of growing, she is just about exactly 1.40m, we could finally go!

And we had the perfect day for it today - blue skies and heat! Yes, actual heat! It got all the way up to 30 today (low eighties for the fahrenheit people). The forest was gorgeous and the climbing and jumping was fabulous; just what we needed.











We went out for lunch afterwards. The courtyard restaurant was lovely and food was absolutely amazingly delicious but the bill ... well let's just say it's good we enjoyed the meal because I think we spent the month's food budget.





When we got home, we played with one of Sophie's birthday gifts (Mario Kart for the wii; we're all pretty bad at it but it's tons of fun...





Then I baked Sophie's birthday cake. She requested brownies, and as the birthday girl, got first go at the mixing bowl.





I used the recipe in the book I keep talking about and it turned out delicious - though, as usual, not as pretty as their version.

Making a wish...




And then we started packing for tomorrow's camping trip. Looking at the time, today's trip, actually!




We'll be driving up to Scotland; home on Saturday! The rest of the pictures from Sophie's birthday are here; I'm very grateful that no-one was quick enough to take one of me the time I skidded through the pile of woodchips at the bottom of one of the zipwires on my bum. Just for the record, you should try to avoid getting woodchips in your undies if at all possible; it's not a pleasant sensation.

Beautiful Tintagel

This is the beach at Bossiney cliffs at low tide. The picture below shows how it looked a couple of hours before, when we arrived. I took this one from top of the path that leads down to the beach.





We had a lovely break. The youth hostel was gorgeous. A little house nestled at the bottom of a bumpy dirt track...





... right above the cliffs.





I had forgotten how cool the YHA hostels usually are. Often in fabulous locations (where else could we have cooked with a view over the Atlantic), and visited by interesting people. The first night we were there, it was just us and an elderly man on a walking tour; thereafter a French family with three boys arrived, as well as a couple with a little baby and an adorable three year old girl. Typically the sort of people who take their kids to stay at tv-less, internet-less, mobile-phone-receptionless youth hostels are more into board games than nintendos...always reassuring to see parents sort of like us.

We spent our time in North Cornwall walking the coastal path,admiring the castle, and playing on the beaches. It was lovely; cold, but in a good-to-be-outdoors kind of way, rather than a miserable way. I'm glad we didn't camp, though - on our first morning there we woke up to see drifts of hail piled up outside the hostel!

The rest of the pictures are here. I particularly like the ones of Sophie learning to skip stones on the beach at Bossiney cliffs, and the one of the church at Glebe Cliffs.

So that was all good. What is not good is that I currently feel dreadful; like I have flu, but without the temperature. Every muscle in my body aches, and I feel as weak as a kitten. I've spent the whole day in bed - couldn't face the stairs, even! - and I don't feel any better than I did this morning. I suppose I will have to ring the doctor if I still feel grim in the morning... This is not good, as my parents arrive tomorrow evening and will be spending two nights with us. Hope the kids carry on being as adorably helpful and wonderful as they have been today, as there is absolutely no way I will be able to do things like change bed linen and scrub their bathroom if I still feel like this tomorrow...

Camping, eh?

This is what we woke up to on Sunday morning.





Glad we'd brought the washing in!

We went for a walk on Reigate Hill...





... turned into more of a battle than walk after a while, though.





I pleaded journalistic immunity.





We're off to Cornwall early tomorrow. Have decided that camping may be unpleasantly chilly, so we will be staying in the Tintagel Youth Hostel instead. Can't wait!

This time tomorrow...

...I will be on holiday. Sixteen days of freedom. Can't wait.

I have quite a bit of work to get through during that time, but it's going to be blissful to be able to get up late and hang out with the kids. And, we're planning a camping trip for a few days during the break - thinking of going down to Cornwall. Maybe somewhere near Tintagel. It'll probably rain. And it'll definitely be cold. But I'm looking forward to it anyway.

The picture is of Emily speaking to one of the cats she meets every morning as she does her paper round.

I never realised, before we changed countries, the extent to which cat care is culturally determined.

In South Africa, cats come and go as they please, pretty much. They come home to eat, and, while they may choose to spend most of their time in their own house and garden, they are also free wander round the neighbourhood if they so choose. And nobody thinks that's odd, they think that's just the way cats are. Independent.

In the US - or at least, where we lived in the US - it's considered reckless and unkind to the cats to let them into the garden, because they might wander off, and possibly get hit by a car, or catch a disease. So they have "house cats". Cats which are confined to the house, basically. And nobody thinks that's odd, or cruel (even if they see their cats desperately trying to make a break for it every time the front door opens) - it's the accepted wisdom on cat rearing.

And here in England, it's the same as it is in South Africa. Having an "indoor cat" is unheard of - unless there's something wrong with the cat, like it's blind, for instance.

What's interesting is that both sides are quite certain that they are right about what's best for cats. But I wonder if the English people would hold the opposite views if they'd happened to have grown up and learned about cats in the US, and vice versa?

I'm happy to be home.





The picture above is a church in Beccles. The girls and I got back yesterday evening, after having spent a few days with my parents. Beccles is a sweet little town, and Norwich (about half an hour away) is a really nice city. We went to a very interesting display there, about the origins of Norwich - well worth the visit, all three generations were fascinated. So it was lovely mini-break (in a wet grey rainy sort of way) but I missed Bobby and Stephen. I've noticed that most of my friends seem to actively enjoy having their husbands out of the way for a few days; I sometimes feel that I'm unusual in actually enjoying my partner's company. Not that he isn't annoying at times (his recent preoccupation with that damn model plane, for instance) - but he's still my favourite person.

And, the sun is actually shining today, which makes being at home even more perfect.

This is the sun coming through the trees on the way to the start of Emily's paper round this morning.





I went with her (good exercise for me, and she likes the company), and it was a lovely walk - a far cry from last week's rounds, when the rain was gusting and it was disgustingly cold and grey with horrible slimy slugs on all the driveways.

Days like today, though, make up for all the misery of English weather.





Everything literally sparkles in the sun, and the colours seem incredibly intense.

This is one of the front doors on Emily's round. It is one which meets with her approval because the mail slot is a reasonable size; the small ones irritate her intensely because it's tricky to get the papers through without mangling them.





The rest of the pictures I took on her round are here...

And this is the view from the top of Reigate Hill, where we went blackberrying this morning. Blackberry crumble for pudding tonight!





We like the cows there - they are so woolly and amiable looking.





More blackberry pictures here.

It's supposed to stay sunny tomorrow; hope the weather holds for the last two days of my holiday!

For Maddy ... eight random things about me.

RULES - Post rules before giving the facts - Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves - People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules - At the end of the your blog you need to tag eight people and list their names - Leave them a comment on their blog, telling them they have been tagged and not to forget to read your blog.

1. I always support the underdog.
   
2. To the extent that I tend to switch sides if the underdog starts winning.
   
3. I don't eat the white part of fried or boiled or poached eggs.
   
4. My favourite weather is cold and sunny.
   
5. My least favourite is grey and drizzly. (Lucky I live in England, isn't it?)
   
6. I like moving house.
   
7. I have tried to like gardening, but I really don't.
   
8. I have a strange block when it comes to posting things - somehow all the steps involved (finding an envelope, finding a pen, finding a stamp, actually getting the item into the mail) are too much for me.
   

Eight more people to do this ... Lisa, Lisa, Chris, Rachel, Jennifer, Jane, J, and Madre-Terra.

And for Lisa, who asked if we and the children still felt South African ... Interesting question, though hard to answer... Bobby and I still do think of ourselves as South African. I think if you grow up in a certain country, you can't help but be permanently shaped by it. But I also think that living first in the US and now here in England has changed us. And is still changing us, probably. I suspect that we're eventually going to end up feeling not particularly native to any country. I would imagine that if we live here for another 10 years, say, we'll feel more and more out of touch with South African issues. But I doubt we'll ever entirely assimilate here. For instance, we'll always have our SA accents which (even though we forget we have them) are instantly recognisable as foreign to British people the moment we open our mouths. It's the same for Stephen, he says. The girls feel differently, though. Sophie, who was three when we moved to Florida, says she doesn't feel at all South African, she feels like she's a mixture of American and English, but becoming more and more English. And Emily, who was eight when we left, says she feels like a complete mixture; something new.

It is odd, having children who are growing up in such a different world to the one we grew up in. I always find it jarring when they use different words for things than the ones Bobby or I would choose. For instance, I noticed this afternoon, when I was making marmalade (first time ever - and it worked!) that I still refer to naartjies, but the kids call them satsumas.

Anyway, in case anyone would like it, here is the recipe for this delicious marmalade:

4 naartjies
2 lemons
500 ml water
2 cups sugar
A splash of brandy - added on impulse

Squeeze the juice and pulp from the fruit into a pan. Add the water. Cut up the peel into the size chunks you like. Bring the mixture to the boil, and simmer till the peel is soft. Add the sugar. Stir till dissolved. Boil till it starts getting thick. Apparently the test of "doneness" is to put a teaspoon full on a cold saucer, put it in the fridge for a couple of minutes. If you can wrinkle it with a finger at that stage, then it's ready. Makes enough for two jars full.

Enjoy!

It is our eighteeth wedding anniversary today.

We're not doing anything special though, because we celebrated it last Sunday, with a picnic at Fontainebleau, outside Paris.





The Paris trip was wonderful. A whole week together, in Paris, in the spring ... it was very honeymoonish. With the added benefit of having good friends there for conversation and company.

We'll go back with the children, though. We kept seeing things we knew they'd enjoy, and feeling sad and frustrated that they couldn't be with us.

The apartment where we stayed was stunning. It is quite something to be able to look at the Eiffel tower as you wash the breakfast dishes.

And Paris itself is such a staggeringly beautiful city. The river, the bridges... This was a view from the top of the Notre Dame Cathedral.




A fourteenth century Madonna at the Louvre...





Monet's house, at Giverny...





...and the poppy fields there...




Lights on the Seine, taken from a boat...





... and a last view of the Eiffel tower, taken on an early-morning walk on our final day in Paris.





The rest of the pictures are here.

It is going to be odd getting back to normal life. We've had friends staying with us here in England this past week, which made us feel as though we were still on holiday, but as of tomorrow, sadly, it'll be back to our day-to-day ordinariness.

Sophie had yet another birthday party this evening. A karoake one, this time, with a marquee in the backyard and flashy lights and a bubble machine and a DJ.

I was struck by how far we have come (and not in a good way) from the days of our Waldorf-inspired homeschooling co-op when, as we approached the house, we were greeted by the strains of a song whose lyrics go "Macdonalds, Macdonalds, Kentucky Fried Chicken and a Pizza Hut". Apparently it's a campfire song. Seems most un-camp-firey to me, I must say.

But, Sophs had a good time, and so did her friends, so I suppose I can live with the offputting fast-food song lyrics.

We need to go and pick Emily up in an hour or so; she's watching Pirates of the Caribbean with her friends. Hope she enjoys it; she deserves to. She's really proud of the fact that she pays for all her own entertainment these days - she earned the money for this movie, and for the dinner that she ate beforehand at Pizza Express.

Since the girls were out for most of the day (Sophie was at a friend's house this morning, came home and fell asleep and then went out again to her party, and Ems was hanging out at the park with her friends this morning), Stephen has been pretty much an only child today. It was nice to have him on his own; the girls talk so much that when they're around he hardly gets a word in edgeways.

I'm tired... Bobby and I cleaned and weeded and washed and ironed like crazy today, getting the house and garden ready for my folks; tomorrow we take the Eurostar to Paris. Can't say we feel very feel good about it... I am hoping that once we actually embark on the trip, our feelings of guilt and sadness will recede and we'll be able to enjoy the trip.

We took this picture of the children at the Eiffel Tower in March 2001. Stephen was 11, Emily was 8, and Sophie was 3. I had been looking forward to taking a picture of them, six years on, in the same place.

What a hellish day.

It was our long-awaited appointment at the French Embassy in London today, so the five of us presented ourselves there, on time, and armed with every conceivable piece of documentation. (Bobby and the kids have South African passports, so they need visas in order to travel to France).

When we finally left the embassy at five this afternoon, after hours and hours of waiting and fruitless argument, begging and pleading, Bobby had a visa in his passport, and the children did not. Apparently the standard birth certificates that the South African government issues are not good enough for the French. Good enough to get the children US visas, good enough for the Dutch to issue them a Schengen visa in 2001 - a visa which, I might add, allowed them to visit France as well - and good enough to get settlement visas to live here in England. But not good enough for the French.

The problem with the kids' birth certificates is that they don't list us as parents. So there's no direct proof that they are in fact related to us. We went to the South African High Commission to see if they could organise something for us and they said yes, we could get an unabridged certificate - but it'd have to come from Pretoria, and it'd take four months.

Not much help to us, then, since we are supposed to leave for Paris on Sunday. So, no visas for the kids.

And you know what's so fucking unfair about this, is that if you come from North America, or Britain, or Australia, or New Zealand, you don't need a visa at all. If you come from anywhere in Africa, though - or anywhere at all third-world-ish - then it's a different story. Seems like thinly veiled racism to me.

I am incredibly disappointed and frustrated and sad about this.

Our first instinct was to cancel the trip altogether. It's something we've looked forward to, as a family, for so many months now. There's so much we want to share with the children ... so many memories we would have been able to create...

But, my parents have offered to look after the children for us here, so that Bobby and I can still make the trip. As they said this afternoon, it won't be the same without the children, but it will still be a good trip. Just not the trip we'd planned. They are pretty darn amazing, my parents. And so are my children. They are bitterly disappointed too, but none of them is being whiny or sulky about this whole fiasco. Instead, they are planning things that they can do with their grandparents next week. I am really, really proud of them.

Time for some good news.

This is where we, and the rest of our old Orlando bookgroup, will be going for a week next Spring. One of our dearest bookgroup friends has organised it all; and she is actually paying for the apartment herself. Paris, in the Spring, with wonderful friends ... Could it be any more perfect?