The great English blizzard

I am still in England. In my post from Saturday night, I was whinging about arriving in England just before a winter weather event. Snow was predicted -- maybe a few flurries. But the snow did not disappoint. It snowed all day yesterday. This was the morning view from my room.

It wasn't really a blizzard, but about six inches accumulated, in a country that apparently hasn't seen snow for more then five years. Across the UK, airports, train lines, and businesses closed. They shut down the buses between the two local towns, so my plans for Sunday afternoon deteriorated. I spent the day holed up on campus instead. It was quite festive looking, if boring.

This morning, many schools are closed, and some trains still not running. Yes, it's just six inches. But they don't have equipment to deal with even six inches. For example, I heard a scraping noise outside my window this morning. I looked out to see a man with a thin metal shovel, no gloves, moving the slush off the sidewalk. No snow blower, not even a proper snow shovel, and no gloves. I guess that's why none of the walkways on campus were cleared yesterday. No equipment.

The organisers of this conference I'm attending are a little stressed out. Most of the participants were supposed to arrive yesterday. They're stuck all across Europe. A man from Lyon in France wrote to say that all flights to the UK had been canceled. He's hoping to make it by Wednesday. A couple others are in Paris, a few more in Frankfurt. The speaker schedule has been adjusted accordingly.

But, having arrived before the storm, I think it's kind of fun. I haven't appreciated real winter weather for nearly a year now -- since another trip to Europe last February. It isn't bad to spend a day watching the snow fall outside the window.

And for all my whinging on Saturday night, Sunday really wasn't a problem. I was worried I'd have to haul my luggage around all day, feeling jet lagged. But I didn't. The staff at the conference centre were moving buildings as well. I guess it's a quiet time of year, and only one conference centre on campus is open at a time, with all the same staff. So the desk staff took my bag from one centre to the other in the afternoon while I was watching the snow fall somewhere on campus. Which was so very nice of them.

And the change in conference centres was a huge win. A huge win. I went from a bathroom with a sink that looked like this:

Two taps. Horrible English plumbing, where you must wash in either too too hot or too too cold water. Chapped hands. I've stated before how much I hate English plumbing. ...

To a sink in the new place that looks like this:

One! One! One mixer tap! I can wash my hands and face in warm water! Not hot or cold. Warm!

My friends, the switch was worth all the discomfort.

Happy winter to all (for a week, anyway).

Whinging

In America, people who complain are "whining". In Australia or the UK, they are "whinging".

I would like to take this opportunity to do a little whinging.

I just flew 9 hours from Dubai to the UK. Before that, I spent 9 hours in the Dubai airport. Before that, I spent 14 hours flying from Melbourne to Dubai.

Just before I got on the first plane I got a note that my campus accommodation at my UK destination had been rearranged, and the day I had been planning to recover from jet lag I would actually need to check out and move across campus.

So I requested a late check out, and was told sure, you can stay in the one place all day. Phew.

Until I arrived.

There is some snow in the forecast for tomorrow, and the UK doesn't deal with snow.

Because of the snow, all conference accommodation will be shut down, and I will be thrown out into the street with all my luggage. I will huddle there in the driving snow, cold and shivering and miserable.

........
.......
.....

Well, actually it won't be that bad. I had plans to meet a colleague soon after noon anyway. If all else fails, I can take my luggage along with me -- I packed pretty light.

And for all the whinging, the travel wasn't terrible. I stayed in a hotel for many of those 9 hours in the airport in Dubai, and actually slept pretty well there, which means I'm maybe already almost on UK time.

But sometimes one just wants to do a little whinging.

Keeping busy

Through my sister, I was pointed to an article in an old church magazine, written by a mother with a gazillion children in the 1970s. She was giving advice on how to be a good homemaker, in spite of all the millions of tasks that good homemakers needed to do. She gave advice about sewing Easter dresses for her little girls, waxing the floors, papering the kitchen drawers, ironing, and all sorts of things. Once this lady figured out her schedule and goals, she was able to ensure that by 5pm each evening, she had all the toys picked up, fresh makeup on and was wearing a clean house dress in order to greet her husband with a smile when he returned home from work.

I totally saw myself in that over-achieving housewife. She had a list of all the things that a good housewife does, and she was going to make sure she ticked them all off, by carefully organising her time and her life. True, most of the things she did were a lot of work for pretty much no point (matching Easter dresses for the family -- my mom did that in the 1980s). But she was doing all of them, and she was doing a good job. 

Matching dresses for all the girls. Required for every accomplished housewife.

I'm busy doing all sorts of things that pretty much have no point. Research articles, vision statements, websites, grant proposals. I have so many things to do that there seems to be no possible way to finish them all. So I organise my time, set deadlines and schedules in an unscheduled work week, and very slowly tick all the boxes. I do all these things, and I do a (mostly) good job. 

If I had decided to be a housewife, I would have transferred all these awesome goal-setting and time-managing skills to the housekeeping. And I would have been an awesome housekeeper. Sure, I would have had no friends, but my seventeen girls would have been dressed in the most fabulous matching outfits you could ever imagine.

Giving thanks, 2017

I am thankful for strong bones and muscles, and two feet that carry me through the botanic gardens when I feel like taking the extended walk home.

I am thankful for windows that open and close. For weather warm enough to keep them open all night, and for fruit bats that giggle and cackle in the park outside the window until 3.00am.

I am thankful for daylight savings time (DST). I still don't like the act of changing the hour, but the fact that we're on DST and family is off means we're only five hours apart, and a late afternoon chat actually works.

I am thankful that Edgemont Elementary started a French immersion program just when we needed a first grade. Eight years later, the family is honorary French.

A lady in our ward organizes an annual French event in Melbourne, and knowing our honorary French-ness, she gave us two complimentary tickets. I am so thankful for her kindness! Jonathan and I spent the day yesterday eating fondue, pastries, and tarte flambee, attending cooking demonstrations, and watching French films. All because of Laura and because of Edgemont Elementary.

I am thankful for a job that keeps me busy and interested and anxious. I am thankful for opportunities to stretch and learn and become the person I want to be when I grow up.

I am thankful for morning rain showers and afternoon thunderstorms and allergy medication.

I am thankful for late spring, early summer. I am thankful to be here. Right here, right now. To have bare feet and short sleeves, and yet to be warm. And to be thankful.

Sunshine

It is strange to think that other people are moving into winter now. I saw a picture of a cousin on a social media site, with snowflakes stuck to her hat. Our world doesn't look anything like that.

Sometimes I visit the other large university in the city. On days that I visit that university, I walk up the boulevard just to the west of our building to the large central train station.

When I head to my own university, I walk across the park just to the east of our building to a different station. Both stations are within walking distance, and both are very nice walks, through parks or past them, along tree lined streets.

If you ride the train from the first train station to the second, there is one station in between.

On Thursday, just to do something different, I decided to get off the train at the station in between, and walk home from there. My phone map suggested that I walk from the station to the stoplight, then cross into a park, walk through the park, over a pedestrian bridge over the river, and then through the Botanic gardens. Once through, walk a block, then cut through the edge of another park.

It was a 10 minute longer walk, but probably the loveliest walk of all.

I took some pictures. This one looks over the lawns and pond toward the city centre.

This is deep in the fern gully: one of my favourite places.

The lawn here sweeps down to the lily pond.

As you can see, we have finally broken out of winter. The trees all have their leaves again. The air is thick with the scent of flowers, and with pollen. (Tim and Jonathan are back on allergy medication.)

And I am so happy to have the sunshine again, at least for a few days.

Things I haven't been blogging

There is nothing like a dressing room -- fluorescent lights, full length mirrors -- to make you feel lumpy and old.

I've been looking for a new pair of jeans. They should be super comfortable, cover my butt at all times, and make me look young and skinny. I have jeans that are comfortable, and I have jeans that cover my butt at all times. But none of my jeans make me look young and skinny anymore. The skinny jeans just make me look lumpy. The young jeans make me look old.

I tried on several pairs. Somehow my stomach looked poochy and my hair looked flat and my eyes looked tired in all of them. Even though I kept trying them and trying them. And trying them.

I don't know. Maybe I'm asking too much of my jeans. Or maybe I can't ask them to make me look young and skinny while I'm in a department store dressing room. Maybe I need to just buy lots of jeans, and after I take them out of the dressing room they will make me look young and skinny again.

Because real life works like that, right?

****

I owe you pictures of our spring school holidays. I almost wrote "recent" school holidays, but the longer I don't post the pictures the less recent those school holidays become. But I'm behind on all sorts of things. Like my work projects. And email. I have a lot of unread email. Ignored and un-responded to email. Some of it I have marked with a star, to remind myself that it's important enough that I need to get back to it. Some of it I have marked as unread, so I will go back through it and read it again when I'm cleaning out unread messages, and I'll remember at that time that I need to do something about it. And some of it is both starred and unread.

But pretty much I'm behind on all of it. Sorry.

I'm behind on all sorts of things. I think I need a secretary to sit me down and tell me what to do each day so that I can actually do the things that need to be done and postpone the things that don't need to be done immediately -- but not to postpone too long. Right now, my email inbox is my cheap way of having a personal secretary. Along with my electronic calendar. Email and e-calendar. They send me reminders of important things that I mark with a star so I'll someday get around to doing them. I hope. If I ever get through my email. I don't like electronic secretaries. They're too impersonal. And I have to tell them which things are important. I think a personal secretary would do a better job. Who will hire a secretary for me?

Meanwhile, do you think a personal secretary would shop for jeans for me? They could definitely sort through the holiday pictures and post the ones in which I look young and skinny.

****

We are in the thick of spring. Last Saturday, Tim was unable to stop sneezing. Allergies. Jonathan laughed at him and told him just to hold the sneezes inside and Wow! His sneezes were Loud!

Sunday, Jonathan came down with the allergies. Red itchy eyes and hives. Tim was not extremely sympathetic.

With a little allergy medicine and a drastic change in the weather, they are now both allergy free. I'm not a fan of the weather change, though. We went from sunshine and blue skies to lots of cold rain. Lots and lots of cold rain.

But if it's raining
have no regrets
because it isn't raining only rain
it's raining violets.

That's a song I learned once. I think of it in the spring. I guess November showers bring December flowers, or something like that.

But what do December flowers bring? Pilgrims? Spring jokes just don't work in the Southern Hemisphere. They just don't work.

****

Anyway, I haven't been blogging any of that. Because somehow it all seems a little stupid and embarrassing. And because I should catch up on my email and photos before the blog. That's why you haven't heard any of it yet.

Oxford house

Our family lived in Oxford for a year when Jonathan was three years old. Jonathan doesn't have many memories of that time, but Tim and I do. More importantly, I still collaborate with the professor I worked with during that year. Since I would be traveling all the way to the UK, I arranged to stay an extra two weeks in Oxford to work on new projects with him. And because those two weeks overlapped with school holidays in Melbourne, I arranged to take the entire family again. I rented a little English row house for the two weeks. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, three people.

The house I rented ended up being very lovely, with a lot of character. It was built in the 1890s for canal workers and their families; a canal runs parallel to the back gardens of the houses on the other side of the street. The houses have mostly been updated since the time they were built. For example, they now have indoor plumbing. However, I think our carpet may have been original to the 1890s.

Aside from the carpet, it was a lovely little house.

This is what it looked like on the outside: We're one of those many houses in a row behind the cars.

Inside the master bedroom looked like this:

There was a cute little garden out the back. It was well-maintained and very lovely with autumn flowers. The shoes on the table in the garden were decorative, I think. They were there when we arrived, and we didn't touch them. Maybe we could have used them to stomp around in the mud in the garden, but we didn't actually go into the garden much. 

The kitchen was a long galley, with the dining area at the end. These were both added on since the 1890s, at the back of the house.

Living room. We didn't use the wood burning stove. We did turn on the TV a couple of times, though.

Front room, where Tim made his office for a week and a bit.

Bathroom, also updated since the 1890s. There was a shower in addition to the tub in the opposite corner. Luckily for the three of us trying to get clean in the mornings.

Smaller bedroom, where Jonathan stayed. 

The location was great. We could walk 20 minutes along the canal to the train station, or 15 minutes down the road to my colleague's office. Fifteen minutes in another direction took us to shops for groceries, and a five minute walk put us on a main road with many bus lines.

It was a lovely place to stay.