Battle. Hastings. The Battle of Hastings. (?)

The sun came out this weekend, so we, too, got outside.  

I stayed at school late on Friday night (got some marking done, had a parent meeting...it was a very productive evening) and, the best part, got to see some of my favourite cherubs in the school play musical.  It's moments like those, when they're prancing and dancing around, reciting lines and proudly showcasing their talent that makes it so worthwhile.  Sharing not only with them, but with their families too was really quite rich.  Kat and I were certainly enthralled, but I didn't think it was wholly appropriate to photograph the event.  Oh well, take it from me: the show was smashing.  

I was in bed by about ten (still trying to shake the cold I seem to have had for about two months), so that I could be up and at 'em for the gorgeous weather that was promised to us on Saturday.  

Frank and I hitched a ride with my favourite cabbie and left this place, London-bound.  I rolled up to the Purley Palace, then spent a little time relaxing over coffees at Steven's.  We hopped into the car (made sure to stock up on snacks for the ride...I was getting hangry), and headed to Hastings.  I, of course, had no idea that the battle of Hastings was the defining moment for England.  She was lost to the Normans when King William (is that right?) took an arrow to the eye (later depicted by my boyfriend, on the site of his death [William's, not Steven's]) at the site we visited.  It changed the way England, um, did things, and brought the Roman Catholic faith to this country.  It also changed the castle into an abbey, which ensured that the community essentially existed for the support of the church.  We all know how little I enjoy history, but seeing Steven bent over his book, reading passages aloud to me as we walked the grounds where this historic battle took place, certainly did make it more interesting than it would have otherwise been.  

The sky was that breath-taking English blue that I can't get enough of.  After days upon days of this bleak springtime gray, it was a refreshing change to see that glorious sky.  Here's what we saw...

 
It was a glorious day to be outside.  I hope old England is taking a turn for the better: blue skies, warmer temperatures.  Waking up when it's already light outside is such an amazing feeling.  Walking home from school when the sky is still blue (and not some darkened indigo) makes the day feel soooo much longer.  Here's to wonderful springy things to come.

 

Battle Faves

That's one great balcony

One great bench

 One crowd favourite

One lone ice cream salesman


One pretty dashing orb (and fella)

the long stroll through London

Steven and I had some time off and explored the city a little bit.   We started with some coffees on the train, then "mosied" along the South Bank...

The Tate Modern...

...and visited the pub we ended up at near the end of our first date. 

We walked along some piers over the river, naturally taking some incredibly cheesy photos while out there...

 More South Bank wandering ensued...

...until we stumbled upon this place.  We spent that first Saturday here, huge festival behind us, talking well into the night, drinking ciders, overlooking the river.  Steven thought that "the thing that looked like a shady estate behind this bench-like thing" made the romantic place look, "entirely disgusting", but I think it gives it a bit of charm ;)

A stroll over my favourite bridge...

...leads to a view over my favourite park (you know it...right on the river, beside Embankment, behind Charing Cross...it's great in the summer).

We popped into the National Gallery for a bit then, taking in some art, enjoying the warmth and the coziness of the place.  We exited on Orange Street, after being told to, "put that camera away!"

 

...then headed Kensington way to see the Roof Gardens (they were closed for a private party) and the west side of Hyde Park.  It was a great day for a stroll.

Then it was back SoHo way for a walk around Chinatown (be still my heart) and Steven's first kick at eating Korean.  It was DElish, of course.  He was pretty convinced.  

We met up with Jason for (way more than) a few drinks before heading home...

...relishing in each other's company and in such a nice day.  

Simple Reminders

I just had the most glorious conversation with a mother of one of the kids I tutor.  She had heard that I was moving on, rendering me unable to tutor her son any longer.  Though she was sad to see me go, she asked me to tell her about what changes were on the horizon.  As I told her that we're moving (in together) to a whole new part of the country (well, still south of London, but it feels worlds away) and that I'd accepted a new job near Brighton, she wistfully shook her head and smiled at me.

"Oh my, so much to look forward to!  I know it must seem like a lot of worry right now, Alexis, but this is only the beginning.  You have such a wonderful life ahead of you.  As they say, nothing ventured, nothing gained."

It was just the sweetest thing to hear, and coming from a woman who has had a very rewarding career and managed to raise three intelligent, successful children, while maintaining a healthy marriage, this truly meant the world.  It's funny...I don't think it's a lot of worry at all, but when I'm in the thick of things, knee-deep in yet another teen issue that will invariably be gone by the next day, it starts to get a bit heavy.  I'll do my best to keep this in mind. 

Bring it on, I say.  So I'll banish the worry for now...as often as I can, in favour of relishing in the thought that even more good things are on the horizon.

 

Image courtesy of Reap and Sow

Big Changes

Well, things around this joint are a-changin'.

First, I got a new job.  It's officially official (though I haven't yet signed a contract.  Maybe this announcement should have waited.  Gulp.  I'll take my chances): I'm a new teacher at a school just outside Brighton.  What?!  "Brighton", you say!  "But that's ages away!"  I know.  I SO know.  

Which brings me to my next point: the man and I are moving in together.  Oh yes, baby, it's time.  It is time for the Canadian British ...no wait a second... British Canadian (that's more like it) invasion. 

So the new job will entail my teaching children at the same age and more than likely the same level as the ones I have now.  They come from a relatively poor socio-economic background, so my experience in Dartford will certainly help there.  From what I gathered from the interview, they seem to be a devoted and caring staff, but not one that arrives at 7:30 am and leaves at 7:30 pm.  My commute will escalate from a skint 20 minute walk (at present) to an hour commute on two trains.  I'll survive: the train ride is going south instead of north into The Dreaded City.  On THAT commute, I'd be lucky to get a seat.  Mmmm...nothing like standing up for two hours a day.  Yuck.  Though Steven thinks I'm being silly, I couldn't handle a two-hour ride filled with idle tasks such as reading.  This way, on my way to near-Brighton, I can stretch out with the very few people who are on their way to Gatwick airport, and do some work.  

Aside from the teaching, I'll have a reduction in my timetable (from what they tell me: I do hope this comes to fruition) to complete the mentoring and coaching with the other staff members.  Theirs is a fledgling staff (well, some have been there a long while, but from what I can tell, many are newer), so a coach is exactly what they need.  Heck, I thought we needed it at my current school, hence my taking on that role in some capacity, but this will be far more developed.  Yippee.  

So why the change?  The Dartford had to go.  I'm miserable in this town.  Aside from that, I needed to branch out and move on up in the world.  My boss is amazing, but she's not budging, so it means I'll be stuck professionally if I were to stay.  That just won't do.  Aside from that, the headmaster has announced he's leaving.  I've been the apple of his eye since I started there and a daily grind without him just wouldn't be as much fun (or as reliable).  So I'm off.  

I haven't told the kids and probably won't for some time.  I trust none of them read this, so I guess it'll stay under wraps.  That said, however, as soon as I told ONE person at school, EVERYONE knew.  Gossip does spread, doesn't it?  Gotta love it.  

Steven and I have a Big Day Date planned for Thursday: I can't wait.  Scrimping and saving and not vacationing has taken its toll on me (I'm so hard done by, I know): my friends are out gallivanting and I'm here, at home, marking books.  So we're going to go see the city, enjoy each other, and marvel in the fact that it's been seven months since we met and here we are...taking The Leap.  

Cool.  

Pictures are mine, save the Canadian/British one.  

That one was all Steven.  

My oh my.

You gotta love a man of many talents ;) 

 

A Little More Gratitude

Oprah made the Gratitude Journal so famous (she says it was the single most important thing she's ever done...that's powerful.  She says, "...you are more alive and receptive to the good in your life."  God, she's good.  "If you want to change your state of being, start to be grateful."), but it wasn't until I read this article that it solidified a deeper, more concrete reason behind the journal:

 

YOU HAVE EVIDENCE

 

I am going to say it again:

The reason you need to write down what you are grateful for is that when you do, you’ll have evidence of all that is good in your life.

Evidence that will give you faith when you are filled with doubt.

Evidence that will bring you hope when you are lost.

Evidence that will bring you beauty when all you see is ugliness.

Evidence that will bring you wholeness when you are broken.

Evidence that will bring you purpose when you are confused.

Each little speck of gratitude written down is ammunition that can be used to fight off all that is nasty and dark. (There’s a reason they call them bullet points, you know!?)

Each little thought that’s captured is evidence that love is more amazing and powerful than we can comprehend.

I love this.  Sometimes, in this analytical brain of mine, I need to see proof.  And often times, when the job gets me down, when being away from my friends and family is challenging, when the rain won't. Stop. Falling., that's when I need some evidence that there are amazing things happening up in here.  

So here we go: I'll publicly post 30 days of things for which I am grateful and perhaps keep it going after that.

Pics are mine, from Brighton.  

I'm feeling we need a bit of beachy imagery 

to get us through this latest cold spell.

     

A Letter to his Daughter

F Scott Fitzgerald, in A Life of Letters, wrote a beauty to his daughter.  Though some things have long since grown antiquated (such as horsemanship), the letter certainly does do well in pointing out the things that are important, at least from the viewpoint of a parent.  This from a delightful blog called Everyday Grateful.  As if that name wasn't enough to evoke a sense of warmth in even the darkest of souls, the tagline for the blog is "Turning what we have into enough."  Love.

Without further ado, here it is (I love that we're not to worry about insects in general.  Clearly this man was not from Australia)...

Things to worry about:

Worry about courage
Worry about cleanliness
Worry about efficiency
Worry about horsemanship

Things not to worry about:

Don’t worry about popular opinion
Don’t worry about dolls
Don’t worry about the past
Don’t worry about the future
Don’t worry about growing up
Don’t worry about anybody getting ahead of you
Don’t worry about triumph
Don’t worry about failure unless it comes through your own fault
Don’t worry about mosquitoes
Don’t worry about flies
Don’t worry about insects in general
Don’t worry about parents
Don’t worry about boys
Don’t worry about disappointments
Don’t worry about pleasures
Don’t worry about satisfactions

Things to think about:

What am I really aiming at?
How good am I really in comparison to my contemporaries in regard to:

(a) Scholarship
(b) Do I really understand about people and am I able to get along with them?
(c) Am I trying to make my body a useful instrument or am I neglecting it?

With dearest love,

Daddy

 

Sharing...my grandmother

I've always believed death to be a very private matter.  I've also always thought, much to the chagrin of many around me, that death is a part of life.  And though it may seem that I'm minimizing what it means to lose a loved one, I can't help but see it is a gentle passing from this one, physical realm into the next, spiritual one.

On that note, I'm ready to share...

My grandmother was a force to be reckoned with.

In all my memories of her, I can never recall a time when she seemed weak, defeated, or tired.

She was a true fighter from a tender age, growing up with five siblings.  She spoke highly of her mother and father, praised her brothers and sisters, and cherished the time she spent with them.  Though the stories from long ago certainly did raise an eyebrow when we heard them for the umpteeth time, she never allowed the injustices that she suffered to be silenced; never allowed that time to be forgotten.  What happened to her in a lifetime, the good, the bad, and the extraordinary, was part of what made her, her.  And it was all magical.

My grandmother used to warm me up, wrap me in her arms, and cradle me in her ample bosom.  She enveloped us all in that warmth, riddling the house with her infectious laughter. 

She used to keep the best things: a heart-shaped plaque from my Mom that taught me the word “ally”; hand-made Afghans; dull knives with wooden handles; a television older than me.  She taught me what teak furniture was, how important a magnifying mirror is for the bathroom, and that freshly squeezed orange juice was well worth the effort.  She showed me how to make goulash, vanille kipfl, and apple strudel.  I make them now and inevitably think of her, recall the smells from her kitchen, have the urge to sprinkle a little sugar on my salad.

I’ll remember the years we shared, sleeping in adjoining bedrooms; I’ll remember the time she spent explaining the characters at length from All My Children; I’ll remember the love advice she poured on me so I’d listen; I’ll remember the hilarious songs she used to sing.  I’ll remember how magical it felt to be in Austria, surrounded by the country she came from.  I’ll remember that it felt like I was coming home, remembered the language somehow, and felt as though she was right there beside me.  Because I suppose she was…and I suppose she is now.

I wore a sweater she knit for me a few weeks ago and proudly told everyone that she’d made it, not thinking about how very long ago that was.  I didn’t think about the failing eyesight and the memory lapse: I only thought about HER.  Because we aren’t the things that happen to us, but the people we are inside, the people we were in our glory, the people we are becoming.  I missed her ferociously as I put my finger through the hole that wasn’t stitched quite right.  I missed her ferociously as I meticulously picked off fluff balls.  How much longer will this sweater last?  Will it be long enough?

Maybe it never really feels long enough.  The love stays though.  And I do love her.