Shirley and George Visit the UK, Part I

On Saturday, Noah and I walked downtown to pick up our 7-seater rental car. Although the car would be average-sized on American roads, it was a boat in Bath. So, it was not easy navigating the stick-shift behemoth through the tiny, twisty streets. On the way home, Noah and I did make a stop by the farmers market for some fresh bread, olives, veggies, and fruit before heading home.

Noah accompanied me to the train station to pick up Shirley and George. As the throng of train travels came down the passageway, we heard screeching and saw a crazy American woman waving her arms and running for us. Big hugs were shared. Once we settled at home, the 6-person crew headed for a little walk to Sham castle before dinner.

As mom and George slept in and the kids played, Rachelle and I went to a pre-Christmas party. We enjoyed mulled wine and minced meat pies with some friends. We returned home and rounded up the troops for a tour of two of the more famous pagan sites for the winter's solstice - Stonehenge and Avbury. Along with a handful of Druids, we made our pilgrimage to Stonehenge and mom and George enjoyed walking around the stone circle on the blustery day. Avebury is a small town, which sits within the large stone circle that dates back to around 2100 BC. As we walked among the huge stones, we enjoyed the Druids with their robes, beards, staffs, drums, and loud howls to nature.

The following day we walked around downtown Bath (see picture of Noah and Shirley by the Royal Crescent) and popped into the Roman Baths for a tour. We then left mom and George and their bathing suits at the modern Bath Therme Spa for their Hannukah present of an evening of jacuzzis, steam rooms, warm pools, and a light meal. They came home serene and slept well.

On Tuesday, we headed into the Cotswalds. First, we stopped for lunch and a walk around Bibury, one of the handful of towns claiming "England's Prettiest Town" honors. See video. We then drove to Upper Slaughter to do the Slaughter Ramble - a mile walk between Upper and Lower Slaughter. The walk follows a brook with stone bridges and lined with small stone homes. Although the Cohens had done these trips before, it was quite different in the winter. That said, the drop in temperature did not keep Noah and Liv out of the creek. That evening we attended Chris Tingle at St. Stephens Church. Together with a crowd of Bath folks, we sang Christmas songs and the kids held oranges with candles stuck in the middle. Noah and Liv enjoyed seeing some of their mates and we introduced the grandparents around to some of our friends. I guess that George and Rachelle did not get their Jesus fill, and they headed downtown for a midnight mass at the Bath Abbey. The place was packed, but by some divine intervention, someone plucked Rachelle and George out of the crowd and let them sit on the stage for the event. They came home late but glowing from the experience.



On Wednesday we split up. I stayed home with Liv and Noah - who had had enough of site seeing - and Rachelle took the grandparents to Wells (see picture of George and Shirley by the Wells Cathedral). Mom and George loved the ancient cathedral and medieval town. They also had a pleasant grownup, slow-paced meal without the kiddies.

Christmas morning was full of present opening and snuggling in front of the tree. We then walked around the empty downtown Bath and ended the tour with some time at the Royal Victoria park, where the kids could run wild. This was especially memorable for Shirley's trip down the big slide. We all witnessed her shoot out of the tube like a bullet and come to rest flat on her back safely in the dirt about 3 feet from the end of the slide. In the late afternoon, I set up the new badminton net (Christmas present from grandpa Mike and grandma Janina). Noah could not get enough and repeatedly challenged us to matches until bedtime. See the picture of Shirley in action.

Boxing Day (the day after Christmas when you box up things for charity) was another divide and conquer day. I took Shirley and George to Castle Combe (another town that claims to be the prettiest in England) and Rachelle stayed home with the little rascals. Mom, George, and I enjoyed walking through the gorgeous town, another grownup meal, and and then we went for a hike. We bought a guide book of walks and the woman told us that this particular walk was very well marked and we couldn't get lost (cue foreboding music). After a few miles of hiking, we did get lost. Fortunately, there was a fit Brit family of 5 who had a better map and we followed them. They were confident that we would not get lost (cue music score again). The band of 8 got lost (off the map) and ended up in a pretty and tiny town with a great church and a peacock. We followed a road, occasionally stepping into the weeds to avoid cars, and eventually found our way back to Castle Combe.

Boxing Day dinner was a great feast held in the Parkin residence shared space. Kevin, Janet, and Kaidyn joined us for the lighting of the Hannukah candles and a dinner of salmon, vegetable pie, salad, mushrooms, good wine and beer, and lots of other goodies. There were plenty of desserts including yummy chocolate oranges, minced-meat pies, chocolate pies, and pumpkin pie (Shirley smuggled in 2 cans of pumpkin from the U.S. for Rachelle). Before we were able to fully digest the wonderful meal, Noah managed to coax Kevin, George, and me outside into the cold for a 2 on 2 badminton game. We all slept well that night, and were excited about our upcoming trip to the English coast.

Merry Christmas from St. Stephens

The entire St. Stephens school, all 420 4- to 11-year-olds, went to the St. Stephens Church to sing some Christmas songs. Tears of joy and pride flowed from the cluster of proud parents sitting in the balcony. Here is a brief video of the singing. For those of you with keen eyes trying to pick out the 2 yanks in the chorus, Noah is sitting in the second to last row farthest to the left and Liv is halfway down from the front in the last row before the break in seats and two in from the center aisle.

Cheesy Belvedere Boys

Belvedere Boys

Friday night was the Belvedere Football Club Christmas party at our dear Belvedere pub. The group of 14 raucous footballers had a room to ourselves, which surely pleased the other pub patrons. After enjoying some good English ales, chips, pizza, and other food, we divided up for a pool tournament. Some context: 1) I was randomly assigned the poorest shooter on the team. 2) The Brit pool tables are small, the balls are small, and the balls are either red or yellow with no numbers or stripes. 3) There are Brit rules that change the whole strategy of the game. For example, if you scratch, the opponent gets two free shots. You also do not have to call your shots. Despite these challenges, our hero was a sharp shooter, losing in the finals for both the doubles and singles tourneys.

I am not sure if it was our wrestling around and loud behavior, continued flirting with the female bartenders, or the belting out of the Welsh national anthem by our 2 Welshmen, but the friendly bar owner booted us out of the Belvedere at 1am (see the picture of him above earlier in the evening). Along with the 2 bar maids (one in the picture), the team of tipsy boys found their way downtown to a dance club where we thoroughly embarrassed ourselves on the dance floor. Actually, it wasn't really embarrassing for me until Sunday in the pre-game locker room when a few players imitated how "Americans dance". Let me just apologize to any American readers of this blog for my setting of a poor example of American fancy footwork. Eventually, Neil, Andy, and I hopped into a cab to be taken home. We didn't make it too far before Neil angered the cabbie, who tossed us from his car. Neil managed to bite his tongue for the second ride, and I was snuggled in bed by 4am.

Cheddar

After a few weekends at home, Rachelle and I were ready for a UK adventure. Admittedly, I was only partially ready on this Saturday morning after my Belvedere Friday night. That said, I was sufficiently alert to help Rachelle in a 30-minute battle, using bribes and threats as ammo, with our two little homebodies. Finally, Noah and Liv caved to the pressure and joined us in the Clio for a drive to Cheddar, home of Cheddar cheese. We all enjoyed the views - especially Liv who could see herself climbing the rock faces - as we wound down into the Cheddar Gorge (see picture) and parked in the quaint little town. Our first stop was in the Cheddar caves, which I was glad to note did not smell at all like cheese. Although touristified with animated Santas and lights, the vast cave (we walked over a quarter mile into the cave) with the beautiful stalagmites and stalactites and rock formations was awesome. We then had a great lunch at a little tea shop.

Before going on the cliff top walk, we grabbed some provisions at the Cheddar Sweet Shop. The hike, which starts with "Jacob's Ladder" - 274 steps up the wall of the gorge - provided gorgeous views over the terrain. The walk was a bit more adventurous than we expected, as the rocks and mud were slick, and we ended up taking a number of tumbles and slides. Luckily, we ended up only dirty and the candy did not get lost or smooshed (see video). On the way home - with some strong parental encouragement - Noah wrote a note stating, "I have fun when we go on family trips. IT'S TRUE!"



Back to Belvedere

If you are wondering, the Sunday pre-game locker room spirit was high with exaggerated tales of our Friday night gathering. One thing that we puzzled over was how Neil lost his scarf, I ended up with a new scarf, and that these were not the same scarf. Side note - The Brits are big on scarfs. After our prior 4-game spiral, the boys pulled it together for a great 3-1 win for the final game before the holiday break.

Born in a Barn

Irreparable Damage

I believe I might have killed the old Ms. Dangerfield morning round-up routine. Ever since I asked if I could record her, and, well, did my spot-on imitation for her. The long, deep, loud, proud postured, "Gooood Morning Children!" is now a flat, self-conscious, slumped, "Good morning children." The crisp and confident "Line up smartly now" has morphed into a meek variety of other soft-pedaled phrases, such as "Line up...uh...astutely" or "Line up...beautifully." Noah told me that she informed his class that she was going to go through the alphabet using a different adjective each day.

Well, the kids have noticed the change, and not just my kids. I have heard other kids muttering, "Ms. Dangerfield sounds different." and "Something isn't right." Some of the kids sneak suspicious glances at me. I fear that they know I am the culprit who zapped Ms. Dangerfield's mojo.

I am not sure if it is reversible. If I ask her if I offended her or comment on the change, it will just further increase her self-monitoring. Oh, what a mess.

The Cohen Kids Find Jesus

In case you did not know, the English public school system is linked tightly to the Church of England. So, there are regular assemblies each week when the children get some good ole Christianity brainwashing. I recently found Noah and Liv arguing about whether Jesus' birth and early years were in Bethlehem, Nazareth, or Jerusalem. This has provided Rachelle and me with the enjoyable opportunity to discuss Christianity, Judaism, faith, and culture with our kids. It is interesting that Noah and Liv do not mind being the only Americans and pretty much the only non-Christians in their classes. Of course, this has all intensified with the coming of Christmas and Noah and Liv had been preparing for their school nativity plays.

The younger half of the school put on the widely-regarded hit, "Born in a Barn." The play enlisted the fine acting and singing of the kids in Reception (4-year-olds) through Year 3 (7-year-olds). The event oozed cuteness. Liv was a shepherd, complete with a tea towel (rag) on her head, and helped watch over the sheep, cows, pigs, and other barnyard animals/children in the Jesus birth story. The central score, "Born in a Barn", allowed the tiny tykes a chance to vocalize in the gray area between singing and yelling. I recorded a bit for your enjoyment.



Noah was selected to be one of the kazoo players in his play. I am guessing that I am not alone in finding the kazoo to be the most annoying "instrument" to be invented. Of course I want to be a supportive father, but there is only so much kazoo "practice" anyone can endure in their home. As Noah practiced in the days leading up to his performance, I began to suspect that Ms. Dangerfield was at home chucking, "touche American!" Two nights before the play I noticed a peculiar and pleasant sound in the air. I was not able to put my finger on it until Noah said that his kazoo had been confiscated because one of the other kazoo playing boys was using it to shoot spit balls at the girls. Ahh. Thank you spit ball boy.

So, Noah's nativity play, "Cracking the Christmas Code", was put on at St. Stephens Church, a beautiful Victorian Gothic church on a hill. For the Advent, the church glows purple, but I am not know the meaning behind this. Regardless, it gives the church a spooky feel (see picture). So that you know that older kids can belt out a song too, I uploaded a video from this play. Although it is blurry, you can pick Noah out. He is in the center with the red shirt, tinsel on his head, and the only kid singing with an American accent.



Football Woes

You might have noticed that I have not been keeping you up to date on the Belvedere Football club team fixtures. Well, we have been on a cold spell losing our last 4 games each by 1 goal. Most frustrating. To top off the gloomy performance, this past Sunday I was called an "American Prick" by an opposing player. Oh well.

Related, I have noticed a different quantity and quality of cursing on the football pitches here compared to the U.S. First, there is more cursing and it is not met with any sanction whatsoever by the referees. Liv regularly keeps count of the "F- and S-words and she always reports double-digit figures. Fortunately, Liv does not know the C-word, which is regularly used here but rarely heard on the U.S. soccer fields. As an example, in one of our games a stray ball went off our field into another game. A player in that game kicked it back, but he overshot his pass, sending the ball beyond the player who had gone to retrieve it. This player shouted, "Thanks, you f***ing c***!", which was followed by laughter among the players in our game and the referee!

Time with Mates

We had Chris (the director of the Pain Research Centre) and his wife, Zoe, over for dinner. Rachelle made a lovely stewed veggies in pastry and I cooked up mushrooms fresh from the Saturday market. As a side note, Liv and I have attended the last 3 Saturday morning Bath Farmers Markets, picking up great local bread, cheese, and olives. See the picture.

Noah and Liv are continuing to enjoy new friendships at their school, which has increased their resistance to weekend family excursions. Noah recently had Harvey over to our house where they had fun playing an online computer game on separate laptops in separate rooms in our cottage. I should say, they had fun playing until I rained on that peculiar parade. It seems that I stumbled upon a new generational phenomenon where these children today think that they are "playing together" if they share cyberspace albeit not physical space. Mercy under heavens.

Here is a conversation I overheard when Poppy was over for a sleepover:
Poppy: "Your real name is Livia? I am going to call you Livia from now on!"
Liv: "Then I will call you Polly Pocket from now on."
-pause-
Poppy: "OK. I'll call you Liv."

Parent Disco Party

Rachelle and I received an invite to a "disco party". We had several different ideas of what it might entail, but I don't think either of us envisioned the surreal sociocultural experience that was to be.

We arrived at the 'Larkhall Liberal Club' for the party with our plate of brownies. We were greeted into the dingy pub to find a handful of drunk, grumbly, and toothless men watching rugby on a little TV. As we stepped past one sleeping man, another guy pointed to the stairs without taking his eyes off the game. We followed the steep, skinny stairs to the basement and found 2 other couples in a long skinny room. At the far end of the room/hallway was a table with a stereo system and a disco ball shooting multicolored lights out around the walls. The table was manned by an 80-year-old or so skinny chap who was swinging his arms to the music. Along one wall was a bar and a table of food.

Eventually some more parents showed up and began having drinks and the party took on the typical tempo. One guy pointed out to me how the room was actually a skittles alley when it was not being used for disco parties. Skittles is like bowling except the ball is about the size of a softball and there are 9 pins laid out in a diamond shape. Now I understood the funny dimensions of the room. We were having a party on a bowling alley!

Upon closer inspection of the DJ, I noticed he was quite agile for an old guy. Yes, he could pop those cassettes in and out of the cassette player as if he had been doing so for a century or so. The music ranged from some current Brit pop to oldies but goldies. Rachelle asked if I would dance with her. I noticed that there were about 6 women and no guys on the far end of the bowling alley. Being the good husband, I was dragged down to the dancing area. As we bee-bopped to a Grease medley, I could tell that some of the other men were looking at me and thinking, "Look at the silly American bloke dancing. What a git."

After skipping the light fandango, Rachelle and I had some Brit food, such as mincemeat pie (it is a sweet dried fruit-filled pie) and potato dishes. As the raffle began, we slipped back up the stairs, past the men staring at another rugby match, and made our way home.