I'm Still Alive

Just a quick note to say I'm still here, and still alive, just that I haven't posted in a while. I got another teaching job in September and it has taken over my life. I'm back to working 50, 60 hours a week and having no personal time to think or move. I have got to get out of this profession! I did apply to retrain as a paramedic, but pending an appeal, I didn't get one of the 24 places on offer, sadly. It knocked me back a bit as I think I was counting on it to get me out of here, but I guess the universe has other plans for me.

There are lots of things to tell you - like Mum writing her car off in a spectacular roll down the road, but I don't think I can catch up with everything in five minutes and still do it justice. Here's some of it in bullet points:

• The kids are doing fine at school.
• Our nephew had a baby in July. He's got Down's but he's doing fine and I can't wait to meet him.
• We had the dining room tiled with a groovy green and cream design.
• The kids got a hamster, whom they've called Noxy.
• I've done no exercise or writing for over two months and I'm starting to go stir crazy.
• Skyfall was epic. Frankenweenie made us cry. 
• We're going to Portugal on holiday next year. 
• An elderly woman with grey hair and a wrinkled face, driving a small, scratched, white car tried to snatch Saskia. Thankfully Saskia ran away. Our village was crawling with police for a while.

That's it for this installment, folks. I will write more as soon as I get my life back!

Bikes, Vikings and Karma

We spent the last few weeks dodging the raindrops of the torrential English summer. One of the days we managed to get some of the kids's friends together for a cycle round the forest with the dog. Then they all came back to our place to watch Cowboys and Aliens and to eat popcorn. Both were a bit messy, but as my brother pointed out, there were some nice close-up of Daniel Craig's tight trousers. I think that was lost on the kids. (Probably a good thing.)

Cyclists

Then, in my capacity as chief interviewer of anything I like for Pagan Radio, I added to my Tewkesbury success by interviewing the Svartland Vikings. It seems my friend Chrissy, whom I've known since the year dot, has taken an interest in the group. She and her eldest son were at the camp re-enactment, dressed in the traditional clothes, chopping up carrots for the stew. 

Vikings

We had a lovely Norwegian Couchsurfer to stay. Asbjorn came climbing with me, amongst other things, and came for a walk in the forest with the kids and Kate. He also came with us when the kids tried the luge - skateboarding down a steep path. Woot! Loads of fun. Mel got a prize for fastest time and Saskia and Donny got prizes for Most Epic Crashes.

Kate, Asbjorn and the kids

I've been having some problems with someone who owes me a lot of money for some work I did for him. He's refusing to pay because someone else didn't pay him and he's basically saving his own bacon instead of manning up to his responsibilties. I've been really mad at him, so I thought I would do some spiritual work to try to get him to change his view point. Unfortunately, I wasn't in the right frame of mind, and I drifted off to sleep projecting thoughts of violently breaking his windscreen with a brick. This is not really what I wanted to send out and, unsurprisingly, the karma of such negativity came bouncing right back at me.

Saskia on the Luge

The very next day, driving down the motorway, a stone hit my windshield and left a big chip in the middle. Worse still, it also left a chip which cracked down at the bottom of the screen. There is now a spiderweb of cracks creeping their way up the glass and I'm stuck in waiting for the Autoglass men to call and bring me a whole new windscreen, instead of enjoying my holiday. And it cost me money too. So the moral of this story is: don't get mad when you are trying to influence the universe - it's bigger than you!

Smashing!

Tewkesbury Medieval Festival

Wow, what an excellent day out. For a start it didn't rain, and that's a miracle this summer. We went off to the Tewkesbury Medieval Festival, which stages a re-enactment of one of the battles that happened during the War of the Roses back in about 1471 or thereabouts. The Yorkists fought the Lancastrians and on this occasion the Lancastrians lost, although they won the greater war a few years later.

My family, together with Pal. Pal didn't like the cannons much, but the others did.

Donny and friend.

As well as the re-enactment of the battle, with over 2000 people taking part, all dressed in authentic gear, wielding big weapons, there was a medieval market packed full of traders selling everything from archery equipment to rabbit skins. There were games for the kids to play, juggling equipment, story-telling and a merry-go-round. Eartha made her own hobby-horse and they all got to try out firing a bow and arrow.

Morris, with excellent music, much yelling and clashing of sticks.

Mel plays big chess. This is what they mean when they refer to Grand Masters.

Donny and Saskia discover naughts and crosses.

A knight and his steed.

I had an additional reason for wanting to go. Some time back I'd been roped into becoming a contributor to paganradio.co.uk. I got given a voice recorder and it has taken me some time to find my voice. That is, I tried being the presenter, but found the sound of my own voice droning on to be both boring and embarrassing. I didn't want to feel so exposed to the world as I did when it was just my ideas and mind being recorded for posterity, so I started to interview other people. It is much easier to let them do the talking. 

The Lancastrians take aim.

Lining up for battle.

Battle standards.

 Today was fantastic for interviewing people. I got to chat to all sorts of stall-holders and the organisers of the festival, listening to how they created their products and the history behind them. I learnt loads of interesting things - far more than I ever would have done just looking round the stalls. I loved it. 

It's hot in here.

Parley before the battle.

Darn it! Another job I love, for which I don't get paid!

The Wettest June on Record

It's raining, it's pouring, the old man in snoring.... It's been raining. Every day. Heavily. For months. The last time we had any sun was the end of May for a few days. I am mega fed up of doing Bikeability in the rain. Last week the alpha male I was working with refused to let the kids stand under the group of trees during a downpour so heavy, it appeared on the news that evening. Roads had been flooded, a school had been evacuated, an accident and emergency centre had been temporarily shut, and me and alpha male had been soaked to the skin. I mean totally soaked. I wrung my bra out, for crying out loud. 

I do appreciate alpha male's point of view, that you shouldn't stand under a tree in a thunder storm, but I think that applies to lone trees in fields. It isn't applicable to three trees in a housing estate full of satellite dishes and TV aerials, when the alternative is to stand in the open with a group of wringing wet kids clutching their metal bicycles and screaming after each flash of lightning. Is it me?

All hail Ra.

Anyway, we managed an afternoon of relative dryness for the summer solstice celebration at the Rollrights. The pictures are of the dancers, paying homage to Ra, the Egyptian sun-god. I took the photos on my phone, as my camera had gone off to be repaired. The screen had broken while I was on trek and the insurance had eventually payed out, so I was without camera. My phone takes good pictures, but getting the pictures off the phone and onto the computer is a complicated business. I really missed my camera. I am pleased to announce, it came back all well and better this week, so I feel I can blog again. It's funny how I seem to use pictures I've taken for writing inspiration.

Winged Dancers.

The rest of my family have been off on their travels. I suppose it is only fair, as I had my big trip this spring. Donny and Mel spent a week in Barcelona with their school. They went to see Gaudi's famous buildings and park, the football stadium, the beach, a craft village and a chocolate factory. I think they had a great time, although they came back totally pooped. 


Nick, Saskia and Eartha have gone off to Canada to visit the relatives, courtesy of some financial help from both grandmothers. They have had some stonkingly hot weather and I think the little ones have spent the week in the pool with their cousins. Jealous, much! I'm looking forward to seeing them when they come back in a few days time. It's very quiet here without them... and surprisingly tidy too!

I Want to Ride My Bycicle

It's Bank Holiday. Everyone is being festive. It's the one day of the four-day weekend that doesn't have rain forecast. Sunday had been spent in a mire of couch-potato-ness, thanks to the incessant drizzle, so Monday was going to be active. We dragged out the bikes and did a maintenance check on them all. One needs a new brake cable, another brake blocks, but we found enough roadworthy bikes to do for the day.


I took the kids and we followed as many small roads as I could find to head for the forest. The road through Buckerage was like the waves of the sea - we would sail down one hill, then have to push up the next. The kids needed plenty of breaks and had scoffed their snack food before we got anywhere near the visitor's centre.

I don't think I have a picture of Eartha looking normal.

Naturally, the centre was like a zoo, it being bank holiday. We bought some lunch and Nick met us with the dog and his bike. We followed the red route, which is about 3 miles, with Pal bounding along beside us. He loved having humans that went at his speed for once.


Back at the centre, there was some debate about what to do next. Home was unremittingly uphill, but Grandma's, although further, was downhill. We plumped for Grandma's. Nick dropped the dog off and got a lift back, then we wove our way through the trees to the back of Uncllys Farm. The bridleway was muddy and uneven and Nick's brakes squeaked like he was trying to kill a ferret with his bare hands. There was one exciting moment, when a rutted path crossed our route and I thought all the children would sail into orbit as their wheels hit the deep indentations. In fact, it was a little later that Nick suddenly stopped killing his ferret and landed with a grunt in a soft pile of brambles. We were sympathetic once we'd stopped laughing.

No, I don't know which gang symbol they are sporting.

We pushed the bikes over a cattle grid and followed the lanes and a steep hill into Bewdley. Somehow we made it through the town centre without losing any children and ended up at Mum's, where the kids were surprisingly quiet. We'd cycled about 15 miles, at a guess. I wanna do it again!

Olympic Jubilee Birthday Parties

My Birthday Cake

I got 'another year older and deeper in debt', as the song goes. I am pleased to say I am now the answer to Life the Universe and Everything. In my new capacity as The Answer, I ate a lot of Chinese food, first with my friends and then the next day with my family. Nick got me a birthday cake. My brother bought me a (3rd world gift) donkey harness, which he thought would suit me following the ravages of my trek to K2. I told him I would wear it on special occasions (if I can ever find the donkey that is currently borrowing it somewhere in the 3rd world).

Cheerleaders on a lorry

Anyway, the Olympic Torch is being carted around Britain by a selection of randomly chosen people. I raced down to Leominster to see it and just got there in time. There was a cavalcade of lorries with waving cheerleaders on them, numerous police motorcyclists and an old bloke carrying the replica golden light. I was surprisingly emotional with national pride. I didn't expect that. 

More Olympic Parade Lorries

My youngest twins saw the flame as it passed by their school. Eartha, being the cheekiest child in the universe, asked if she could hold the flame and amazingly got permission. How cool is that?! 

The Press Corps

Some other friends had to go to a funeral at the time that the flame passed through Hereford. The route to the crematorium clashed with the route that the flame was taking. Those flag-waving crowds that were watching the parade there would have seen lorries with cheerleaders, a carnival of police motorbikes and the Olympic Torch followed by a hearse. I couldn't make it up. What a send off.

Local Man Carrying the Olympic Flame

The national celebrations don't stop with the Olympics. Our Queen Liz has been on the throne for 60 years, which is quite a feat, however you look at it. Every school, village hall, town and city has organised an event, from a barbecue to a flotilla of boats on the Thames. 

Jubilee Garden Party

Nick looking like he's had enough of flag waving.

There are a lot of street parties happening this weekend and we get an extra day bank holiday. Friday we went to the Jubilee celebrations at the village hall. There was plenty of food, a quiz (we did terribly), a tree planting and a balloon release. It was really quite good fun, although I did realise half way through the evening that I'd turned up in a t-shirt that said Kyrgyzstan on it, which probably confused all the people wearing Union Jack print clothing.

Balloon Release

I think the rest of our long weekend will be spent trying to kill off the rampaging ground elder, which is trying to take over my garden. I'm on a mission. The stuff just won't give up. We're trying to stop it growing by smothering it with black bin bags, pinned down with house bricks. We've spread them all over the paths and beds where the unstoppable weed keeps coming up. My back garden currently looks like a mafia kill site.

Why'd You Put Your Backpack On?

Bluebells

Guarding the Gatepost

"Why'd you put your backpack on, if you won't just take a hike?" The words from the Barenaked Ladies song have come back to me regularly since I got back from China. For those that don't read my travel blog, I have been away for a month trekking to the base of K2 and having a mostly awesome time. I have learn an enormous amount about Uigur history and culture, a surprising amount about how difficult it is to trek at altitude and a fair amount about myself.

Pal in the Wheat Field

The trek was the hardest thing I have ever done. Not physically, maybe, but mentally I was not up to the job. Physically, well, I struggled and I needed to be a lot tougher. I could have walked it all, but I didn't go fast enough and this was more of a problem for other people than it was for me. Consequently, I sepnt a lot of time on donkeys/camels/motorbikes and by myself walking at a slower pace. The mule riding was not, generally, my idea. I was coerced into it by people who wanted me to go faster. 

Wild Garlic Trail

So, given the problem of speed, I decided, once I got back home to try to improve on my pace. Every year there is a walk called Pound the Bounds organised. The walks (pick your favourite length) are around the boundary of the parish of Rock. I decided to go for the 12 mile walk with my favourite mutt, Pal. And I was going to do it as fast as I could walk.

Mad Sheep

I have an app on my phone that tracks a walk. It talks to me every five minutes, giving an average. I wanted to average 3 miles/hour, but in the end I only managed 2.5 miles/hour, over fences and streams and stiles and getting lost. I did 13 miles (I told you I got lost) in 5hrs 30mins, with one five minute sit down. It was tough, and the tendon at the back of one knee hurt for a day afterwards, but it wasn't dreadful. I was reasonably proud of myself.