Dear Friends, February 22
Lucia’s had a long week. She started getting sniffles last Saturday which developed into full-blown ‘flu by Monday. But she soldiered gamely on, prodded by looming deadlines and the demands of a new job. On Wednesday she told me she was just going to go to the office for an hour or two to sort out a project, but eventually only got home at around eight in the evening. Although she stayed at home on Thursday, she spent most of the day shackled to her computer at the dining room table. This morning she was out the door with the sparrows again, leaving a trail of coughs behind her. I know she’s looking forward to the weekend for a brief respite.
The thing that struck me most this week was how quickly the days are lengthening. When we arrived four weeks ago, it was virtually dark by half past four in the afternoon. Now, there’s still light in the sky at six in the evening. The weather swings between mild and extreme. On Tuesday, my car thermometer registered minus 5C as I headed off to the dogs and cats. Everything was frozen, leaving a thin sheet of white covering the fields. Today (Friday) the thermometer touched a high of 14C somewhere near Rugby as I ambled home on B roads and other minor roadways. What really fascinated me though was how short some of the skirts are that were worn by young lasses on their way to school despite the cold. The route to Lucia’s office passes three schools, and I struggled to keep my eyes on the road rather than the sidewalk when I took her to work on Tuesday (while the pool car was getting serviced.) Apart from the fact that these girls would probably be sent home to change into more “suitable” attire in SA, it really is very cold indeed and some of them must surely have been risking an embarrassing case of frostbite. I can only imagine what it must be like for young boys trying to concentrate on quadratic equations or logarithms with a very long, curvaceous leg peeking out from the desk in front. But then that comes from the perspective of someone who went to an all-boys school. It reminds me of a line from one of Raymond Chandler’s Phillip Marlowe novels where he described a particular woman’s looks and figure as “fit to make a priest kick a hole through a stained glass window.” That’s one of my favourite lines that had me crying with laughter when I first read it.
We had a pleasant start to the week when Andreas, Michelle and daughter Natasha came from Peterborough to join us for lunch on Sunday. I suppose Peterborough isn’t that far in South African terms, but it’s still a 90 minute drive at least. Brits seem to be used to this sort of commute. Some of Lucia’s new colleagues drive an hour and more to get to work, and this isn’t even London. They really do live all over the show. One of them even has his primary home in Brighton and spends three days at the office in Warwick, staying two nights with his brother in the area. Hmm! Brighton. Seaside. Seems like a good idea to me. The dogs will certainly think it’s home. If Lucia is ever given a permanent posting in London, I think I’ll lobby her to live in Brighton which has good rail links into London.
But I was talking about Sunday lunch. We took Andreas, Michelle and Natasha to the Saxon Mill which is sort of around the corner and down the road. (http://www.saxonmill.co.uk/) (Or should I say they took us; we chose the spot – they paid the bill.) The setting in an old water mill right on the Avon overlooking a ruined stately home is really quite stunning. The food is very good too without being exorbitantly expensive. The service could be better, but we haven’t found many places here in the UK where we’ve been impressed with the service. But here, once again, this comes from the perspective of someone who spent five years working in a pub/restaurant when I was at university second time around.
On the acquisition front, I bought a (cheapish) digital terrestrial television receiver in the hope that we would be able to extend our viewing options. The normal analogue signal only gives us five channels – BBC1, BBC2, ITV Channel 4 and Channel Five. The freeview digital terrestrial signal offers another 30. (The UK is slowly changing over from analogue to a digital terrestrial service.) Quite why I bought the device when the freeview website (http://www.freeview.co.uk) clearly said we probably wouldn’t be able to get the digital signal where we live is a mystery even to me. The guesthouse is in a dead spot which won’t get the digital signal for another year or two. Our new home, two miles away, should be able to receive said digital signal, but we’ll probably get a Sky box then (satellite). What I’m saying is that I probably wasted £20 unless I can flog the box. But I’ll wait until we move into our new home.
Still on the subject of buying things, I am completely staggered by the price of freshly baked bread rolls. These sell for between 20p and 32p at Tescos or Sainsbury’s – let’s just say anything from R3 to R5 in SA money. For a poppy seed roll! I was paying 80c at Spar, and I bought two or three every day. But then the fresh pastries cost £1, or even 80p if they’re on special which is much the same as one would pay at Carlucci’s (same quality) in Cape Town. Explain that.
The animals are all fine (thank you to everyone who asked) particularly Edgar who is much improved. He now weighs 47kg, two more than he did in Cape Town. I give him extra food everyday and spend at least half an hour playing with both of them in the cage to exercise them. They don’t leave the cage, ever. That’s what quarantine is. Edgar had dropped well below 40kg when we arrived in the UK. I blame the owners of the kennel who didn’t provide proper bedding for the animals; they didn’t tell us we had to provide the bedding which we would gladly have paid for if we had known. But then what can you expect from people who promenade around in Ferraris and other fast cars; clearly they live an egocentric lifestyle which has little empathy or understanding for any creatures beyond themselves. We haven’t said anything. I’m waiting until the day we take them home.
If I was fascinated by the hedgerow mowers two weeks ago, now I have to put up with the muck spreaders. I drive past them nearly every day near the kennels as they spray their cow and sheep shit on the fields. It honks. I couldn’t live anywhere close to that. My preferred morning smells are roasted coffee beans and croissants.
That’s it for now.
Love, light and peace
Llewellyn
