Dear Family and Friends, March 31
This week has been mostly about moving into our new home. Right now, Monday morning, we have no hot water and no heating. But more of that later.
On Easter Saturday, we visited the dogs as usual, and, in the evening, went to dinner at Richard and Anne’s home in the tiny hamlet of Winderton, nestled in the Cotswold Hills about 30 minutes away from here. Richard’s cooking raises the bar on what I shall have to come up with in return. He also had some fairly spectacular wines to compliment his efforts.
The week began with the Malaysian F1 Grand Prix at 06h00 on Easter Sunday morning. I rolled out of bed at our guesthouse, and stumbled through to the kitchen to put the kettle on. I was startled to see through the windows that the world had turned white with a two inch layer of snow covering the ground. More came drifting down in great big flurries. I took a few photographs, and then deposited myself in front of the television with a blanket over me. (You can see the pictures at http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/llewellynijones.) I fully expected to be able to take more pictures after the race, but the sun came out an hour later and it had all melted by the end of the Grand Prix. I felt cheated. At least a Ferrari won the race, which is as it should be.
Then Lucia and I headed off for the railway station where we caught the train into London. I still wince at the eye-wateringly expensive price of public transport here. We could have flown to Portugal (okay, on a very cheap flight) for the price of the one hour journey into London and back, including a London travel card for the day. I can’t help but feel that successive governments have got their policy hopelessly wrong; you can either have expensive petrol or expensive public transport – not both. When you restrict movement, you restrict the economy. On a different tack, I have heard a good few Warwick shopkeepers complaining bitterly about the lack of parking and the strict enforcement of parking laws by the ubiquitous parking wardens. All of them say it’s killing their business. (Parking is also a significant cost of transport here.)
Anyway, we went into London to meet Becky, a lawyer turned schoolteacher whom we met in Zanzibar two years ago, for lunch, and also just for a general stroll around the city. We met Becky at Waterloo Station and went for a walk down the South Bank (of the Thames) as far as the Tate Modern gallery and then back to an Italian restaurant at a place called Riviera Pier. Or maybe the restaurant was called Riviera, I can’t remember any more. It’s an area that has a couple of art an artisan style shops and a few restaurants. The restaurant which we got Becky to choose had the most stunning view of the river and the passing parade of people. We were glad to be indoors when we got there because it was bitterly cold outside and gray outside, with a cutting wind that sliced through my jacket, scarf, jersey, shirt and T-shirt. We spent a wonderful couple of hours catching up with Becky, and look forward to hosting her and her partner in Warwick soon.
Afterwards, Lucia and I walked back along the South Bank to Westminster Bridge, across the bridge which was teeming with tourists, past Westminster Palace, and up Whitehall to Trafalgar Square. We had intended to go window shopping up Piccadilly and along Oxford Street, but it was cold and just too full of people so we changed plan. I had been wanting to go and see the newly refurbished St. Pancras International railway station which houses the UK terminus of the Eurostar trains, so that’s what we did. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St_Pancras_railway_station) It’s amazing what they have done renovating and redeveloping the building as an international railway station, as well as the redevelopment currently underway of the landmark Midland Hotel which forms part of the station concourse. Lucia too was hugely impressed. (We still find the concept of being able to catch the train to France hard to get a grip on though. We’ll have to do it sometime soon.)
On Easter Monday, we packed and tidied our guest flat before taking ourselves for a walk around Warwick Castle in the afternoon. Lucia and I bought year passes which allow us in at anytime, give us discounts for guests, discounts on food and free parking. (So please visit soon.)
On Tuesday morning we went to sign the lease for our new home at the estate agent after stopping off at the bank to draw the £1150 deposit in cash. (Only cash is acceptable for a deposit.) Can you imagine drawing that much money in SA? You’d have to hire an armed guard for protection. After signing the lease, Lucia went to work and I went to the new house and was horrified to find that the carpets were really grimy and filthy, which is a bit of a cheek given that the lease contract specifically states that you have to have the carpets cleaned when you move out. I didn’t want to hassle about it with the landlord, so I went out to hire a carpet cleaning machine. Except, of course, I couldn’t. You can’t do a damn thing in this country without proving who you are AND where you live. You need a utility bill (telephone, electricity, gas, water or council tax) to prove where you live. If you don’t have one, the chances are you will not get what you’re looking for even if you offer a very large deposit. It’s maddening. I eventually had to go back to the guesthouse and beg the owners to take the Rugdoctor in their name. I spent the rest of Tuesday cleaning the sort of salmon pink carpets upstairs. Downstairs is wood and tile.
Lucia took the day off on Wednesday for the arrival of our furniture and worldly goods from storage. The removal company was late, but it didn’t really matter because Lucia was able to give the kitchen a good spring cleaning (which it desperately needed) before they arrived. The team from the removal company consisted of two South Africans and two Hungarians. The one South African is actually a serving member of the British army, but was on leave and didn’t really have anything else to do, so he joined a friend on a delivery crew for the removal company. Next week he’s off to Afghanistan for a second or third tour of duty. He gets a British passport in February next year which is rather vital because the South African government now has laws in place which deem him to be a mercenary and subject to imprisonment in SA.
Anyway, as they unpacked, it became clear that we still own far too much for a British home, even after we had sold, given away or tossed a significant amount of our belongings in SA. The rest of the week and the weekend has been spent trying to sort it all out, and find a place for it. The garage is fairly full of the overflow goods. Put it this way, we’re certainly not getting a car in there. But then we wouldn’t have anyway because that’s where the fridge, washing machine and tumble dryer (which come with the lease) are housed.
The heating started playing up straight away. But every time the landlord came around to check up on it, it had “magically” switched itself on. He had a plumber in on Saturday to check everything who then declared it all to be in good working order. On Sunday morning (yesterday), we woke up to a freezing house and no hot water. The back-up electric immersion heater in the hot water cylinder also refused to switch on. The plumber is due at three this afternoon to fix it all. (So please don’t worry Barbara and Terry. There will definitely be hot water when you get here later in the week.)
(We hope. Because it really is bloody cold without it.)
That’s it for now. I off to visit the zoo and then to buy an iron before the gas man gets here.
Love, light & peace
Llewellyn
