3rd Holiday Post

11th Nov, 2012

I missed writing anything for a couple of days because we were at my number three daughter's place, with her family.

We got up on Friday morning - still in Geraldine at that stage - and there was a drip coming off the tent in the front section, though it wasn't raining.  Turned out it was moisture running off the upper part of the door opening.  When my head touched the roof the condensation began to drip as well.  Celia was concerned about what it would be like in the rain, which is forecast for next week, but we dried the tent out in the sun in the end, and we'll have to see how it all works out.

We had breakfast in the camp kitchen and talked for some time to a young man from Idaho who is cycling around the country for three months.  He was going to Fairlie that day, a mere 80 kilometres.  Later in the day I spoke to a bloke who works for one of the electricity companies.  He was lying on the pebble shore in the Rakaia Gorge having his lunch.  He didn't think that long cycling days like that we're much of an idea since you had your head down all the time and didn't see much.  Apart from being exhausted by the time you got to your destination.  Anyway the young man had obviously been enjoying the trip.  He works in IT so can take three - or it might have been five months - off to tour.

After leaving Geraldine we weren't entirely sure that we'd taken the right road - we wanted the scenic route that goes through Glentunnel - but while we were stopped on the side of the road admiring the wonderful mountains, in the near distance, presumably the Alps, a man in his thirties drove up and stopped to ask if everything was all right. He assured us we were on the right track and that we could get petrol in Mayfield, which turned out to be only up the road.  I'd been a bit concerned that we wouldn't make it before we found a petrol station, having forgot to get petrol in Geraldine, so I was grateful for his concern.

After getting petrol in Mayfield, we stopped outside the village's Memorial Hall for a cup of tea, under the shade of an ancient tree - it was a wonderfully hot day - and Celia went for a trek to find the toilets. Though advertised as being close by this turned out to be much more difficult than the sign suggested.

A photo of the Rakaia Gorge as you approach it from the South.
It's a bit hard to get the whole picture of it; as usual I thought I'd
taken more photos than I had!

Our next stop was the Rakaia Gorge itself but Celia didn't feel much like walking at that point because it was so hot and her ankles had swollen somewhat with the heat and she was rather weary - neither of us have been sleeping well: at Geraldine the lights are kept on in the camping grounds all night and there's no real darkness as such. And, as I mentioned previously, the birds like to start singing loudly around 5 am. Anyway the Gorge was a beautiful vast open area with a surprising section of natural erosion where the cliffs had fallen away (the electricity worker said they'd been like that as long as he could remember though they looked like a relatively new scar).  Two bridges cross the two streams of the river coming into the Gorge, along with various other trickling creeks. Not much shelter there so we moved on, and anyway we couldn't light the gas there to make our lunch because of fire restrictions.  We eventually stopped on the south side of Glentunnel in a still unsheltered rest area, got the gas cooker out and made pikelets.   We used the golden syrup packs for flavour that we'd got when all the family went to MacDonald's a couple of weeks ago when the Christchurch family were down in Dunedin.  (One of these packs, the one that got left over, decided to trickle all over the inside of a bag of soups and meat flavourings, leaving everything sticky as.)  Drove on towards ChCh, passing my daughter's old place in Glentunnel, stopped for an icecream and milkshake in Darfield, and drove to my daughter's.  Greeted effusively by the kids and it was full on ever after!

Yesterday we took them out twice because, in part, my daughter had her first University exam for this semester, and in part because it was less exhausting outside than in!  Went to the Botanical Gardens which neither of us had ever been in much before and had a lovely open air time.  We didn't have the smallest of the three with us at that point because he went off to a birthday party with his dad, but on the second trip out, to the park along near their house, we had him as well.  He's as cuddly and smiley as he was in Dunedin, and talks full bore.  His sister, the middle child, who's only five and three quarters, is like a seven or eight year old...very sharp and bright.  Her big brother's no slouch either, so it's like being a house of super brains.  Celia showed my daughter's partner the book we'd got in Geraldine but even he was stumped by the first puzzle in it, although he picked up the idea of the puzzles straight away, as you'd expect him to do, and was soon doing them with ease.

We met up with our friend Heather for a meal last night at the Westfield mall in Riccarton, along with a couple from Dunedin who were up for a weekend of celebrations at their old church; it didn't seem as though they were having much celebration, though; all a bit dry by the sound of things.  Good to catch up with Heather; we'll see her again today for a family lunch celebrating her 60th birthday.  From there we went to see our dearest friends, people who used to live in Dunedin, but haven't done for many years. Within minutes of arriving we found ourselves invited to babysit their house at Christmas, which we were happy to do.  Their daughter arrived for a while with all four of her kids, which quickly demolished any sense of tidiness around the place, and then we watched an episode of Doc Martin on TV One. It turned out to be one we'd all watched on Prime previously, but proved surprisingly re-viewable.  Some viewing of photos from the last overseas trip and then back to my daughter's.

Day after the wedding

Notes from the 8th Jan - day after the wedding. 

Well, the wedding is over and done, and we’re all walking around like zombies.   We went into the church at ten (I’d thought that was when the wedding was starting and wondered why everyone was being so casual about the time) and hung around for an hour until the actual service at eleven.  This meant we greeted people as they came in.  The girls were running around in the background - they get dressed and doodied up at the church, here.   Sarah was visible occasionally, but not Liz, who managed to stay out of sight.    Cathy had made some wonderful 'buttonholes' (I'm not sure what the American word is) for everyone in the bridal party.  These were made out of various bird feathers, including pheasants feathers, and were held together at the bottom so that they formed a kind of miniature spray.   They looked great. 

We got the latest update of the order of things from the pastor, Harold, a lovely man keen to make sure everyone was at ease (I think he found Dom’s shenanaghins at the rehearsal a bit surprising), but Liz had already re-ordered things by that stage by email, and so we finally went with her version! Harold had thought there wasn’t an official run of things and had made one up in case.   Ben and Dan, as well as being part of the bridal party, worked as ushers.  This meant that Ben took Celia down the aisle with me following; a little odd, but what the heck.  Sarah came in by herself, as she was the only bridesmaid - although Daniel was also on Liz’s side up on the altar steps - he spent most of the service with his cap on (except when they were praying) and much of it checking out the congregation.  

The service went well - a fairly pregnant lady played the piano for the songs (we didn’t stand, which would have made them easier to sing) and I read Psalm 103 from the NASB.  Had quite a number of people afterwards asking if I was a Pastor/Preacher because I read it so well!   (I said, nope, just an actor, which bemused them a bit.)  Anyway I was glad it went over well - I was the only non-wedding party person to do anything. 

Both Dom and Liz choked up at points in the vows section - and then Dom didn’t realise, after he’d put the ring on Liz's finger that he was supposed to say an I will at that point (I will accept this woman, or something) so that caused a bit of a laugh all round. 

After the service the two families and Dom and Liz stood in a line and greeted everyone as they went out.  It took at least an hour, and we were all exhausted by the end.   Each person wanted to say something, or felt they should, and then we talked and so it went on.   The grandparents were included in this line, as well as Chris' step-mother, who retired early on.  It was exhausting keeping up with it. 

Home for a snooze or a rest and trying to remember what else was needing to be taken to the reception.   Seems we've spent the last couple of days transporting things hither and yon.   The reception was a bit different to a New Zealand one: for starters all the guests were already there when we arrived and the food ladies were well organised.  And people weren't dressed up, as they had been for the wedding.  Only those 'officially' involved (including the parents) were still in their wedding finery.  

There were supposed to be 200 guests, but there were probably more like150, perhaps less…which meant we had a bit of a crisis when we cleared up later on: there was heaps of food left over. We managed to give away some of the excess food and took the rest home where no doubt it'll get used up fairly quickly. 

Sarah made a speech about Liz, and that was fun, and Jon made one about Dom and explained ‘wench emancipation day’ - at Celia’s behest. I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to speak, although Dom had asked me too - there wasn’t a master of ceremonies as such - but they called me up and I delivered my somewhat prepared speech; 'somewhat' in the sense that I’d made notes and went a bit beyond them.  I wanted to pray for them too, so I’d written the short prayer out, but got very choked up in the middle of it, as I had briefly while reading Psalm 103. And again all sorts of people congratulated me on the speech - it’s the American way, I think: they’re very encouraging.

There was a bit of uncertainty about whether we were supposed to clean up before we left, but people were starting to leave by 7.30 - 8.00 anyway, so we got on with it.  Chris said he’d never had to clean up after a wedding and I said, just make a start and people will help, and they did.  The chairs and tables were put away in no time, but the food sorting out took longer.  The volunteer ladies had cleaned up the kitchen well, and it was mostly a matter of figuring out how to sort the food.  We had enough hands on deck to do all the work.  In spite of exhaustion Cathy and her family came back to the house and stayed till some early morning hour; Christin and Rick, who were supposed to be leaving about 5.30 am the next day were apparently up till 2 or more; Celia stayed up till 1 am, playing games with the others, and another group were drinking and talking out in the workshop.    

So my baby is married; seems ridiculous, but there it is.  

We're off! We're off!

Twenty years or more ago, I began writing a children's opera, in which the children sang a rousing chorus, We're off! We're off to the Fantabulous Mountains.
The song is buzzing round in my head. This is the last post I'll be writing from Attleborough (certainly in the foreseeable future), and in an hour we catch the bus to Heathrow, and not long after get on our plane for Korea.
The phrase, mixed emotions, doesn't cover it. We had a family tea here last night with all the family connected to the people we've stayed with the most, plus another of Celia's brothers and his wife. Last Tuesday we said goodbye to another couple, and Celia's just been on the phone to both her sisters. We're feeling keen to get off yet know that we won't see any of these people again in any hurry - in some cases we may not see them again at all. (The older members of Celia's family are getting up round the 70 mark.)
Four of the great-nieces and nephews were here last night, and two of them went home in tears, apparently. One of the little g/nephews did an anagram puzzle of his family's names for us, as well as a kind of poem of the important things he's done with us, and a maze, in which I was stuck at one end missing the flight, while Celia was on the plane. Help Mike get on the plane, was the instruction.
Both the nephews were here this morning for an informal breakfast, so we said goodbye to them again; one of them prayed for us as well. We're going to miss all these people we've got to know while we've been over here, as well as those we've known before.
There have been times when we thought we hadn't had much of a time here, but in fact, when we look back and remember things, it's been a great time. The bad days are nothing compared to the highlights and the general times of just enjoying other people's company. We've been very well cared for by the family, and we've met dozens of people both here in England and on the Continent who were friendly and helpful. It's been rare to be rebuffed by anyone.
How much longer this blog will carry on after we get on the flight is a question. No doubt my inveterate writing fingers will insist on adding some more, and no doubt we'll have other things to say about our travels.
Meantime, we watch the minutes go by and keep breathing.

Quiet

Things are a little quiet on the travel front, so there’s not much to report here in the blog. Spent most of Saturday resting after our long exertion on the Friday, watched X-Factor in the evening and disagreed entirely with the judges and then watched some odd pilot and the second episode which was showed straight after it. It was a tv series called Shooting the Past, and it turns out it was made back in 1999. More about that on my other blog.

Today we’ve done nothing more than go to church, have lunch with our niece and her family, and come home.

Life may get more interesting –who knows?

England is riddled with history

Let’s face it, England is riddled with history. You trip over it at every corner.

We went into the Abbey Gardens at Bury St Edmunds today and found children playing on the ruins of the original Abbey, stones that go back nearly a thousand years. Yesterday we went to Melford Hall near Sudbury, and also visited a church that’s some 600 years old. At every point in the flooring, practically, you’re standing on the tombs of people who’ve been dead for centuries. Next to the church was a hospital originally set up for people who couldn’t afford to go anywhere when they were dying – several centuries ago. The place is still being used for the same purpose. Just up the road was another historic home that’s now home to operas, concerts, plays and the like. Furthermore, family members still live in many of these places. They’re people who can trace their family back for generations – as opposed to the Crowls, who can only go back to my great grandfather, or the Hannagans (my mother’s side), who can only go back a generation or so before that.

In the back lanes near where we stayed, we kept coming across churches that have been used by Christians for centuries. In some cases they’re in very good condition (the churches, I mean); in other cases, the current generation is struggling to keep a church functioning that hasn’t had enough work or money put into it for decades. But nobody seems to think: this is too old; we’d better pull it down. Nope, they have great respect for these old buildings, and there they sit on the landscape as they have almost forever, in spite of the dissolution of the monasteries and all the destruction that went with it, in spite of wars and the ravages of time.

Perhaps because we’re not so familiar with it in New Zealand, we're struck by all this history. Perhaps local people take it more for granted. Whatever, it’s great to see it here, and all this viewable.

Skyping

Well, Skype is proving its worth, after all the hassle of getting organised and learning how to do it in the first place. We’ve talked to our kids a number of times, and have even downloaded the program onto my brother-in-law’s computer, so we can talk from there. It’s been a wonderful way to keep in touch with the family, and we’ve even managed a conference call type of thing, with people in Dunedin and people in Auckland on the line at the same time. Amazing technology – and it’s free!

Down come the photos

Yesterday we had another day of clearing away stuff prior to renting out the house. It’s amazing how many bits there are. Do we just live in a house normally with so much stuff and never notice 90% of it? That’s scary.
Cleared away a lot of the framed photos of all the kids and grandchildren, and of me in the three plays I’ve done, as well as the large painting Wally Crossman gave us some years ago (in return for Celia doing gibbing at her house). And then I took down all the photos from our photo board, some of which are real oldies from when our own children were small, or going to school for the first time, or having birthday parties, or looking the spitting image of their own children, or Celia holding up the first salmon she caught. (She’s just been sitting beside me eating salmon on toast!)
The house is looking distinctly bare. Maybe we just keep all this stuff around us to make us feel warm.

Only so many more sleeps!

I'm finally starting to feel as though the trip to England has some reality about it. Our suitcases have some clothes in them (far more in my wife's than in mine) and most of the stuff that can be put away is away. (Except for a certain recalcitrant couch.)

Celia's been testing out Skype with the kids, and it's working, for the most part. Though it does seem rather odd to me to be talking through a computer.

I'm having to think seriously about the dates we're going to contact the Electricity people and the phone, and how we're going to do that while still working and such. I'm counting down the days till I finish this job – a great incentive to look forward, I can tell you! This job has almost put me off work for good…work with difficult people, that is.

I'm not sure I'm looking forward to the day I leave, however. There'll be plenty of people I'll be sorry to say goodbye to, even though I've only known them for four months or so, but there are a few I'll be happy to farewell. In my worst moments I feel like telling them what I really think, but I won't. It won't achieve anything at that point, and I'm not even sure that it would make a dent in their self-satisfaction.

We have a car waiting for us in England, courtesy of my brother-in-law. Trying to arrange some insurance for it has been a bit of a mission; in fact, it might cost almost as much to insure it as it's cost to pay for it because we're not residing in England permanently. We'll have to keep working on this.

And we have accommodation organized for several weeks already. Filling in the gaps will be the exciting part!