I hate the term "white trash", but it conjures a certain image very quickly... and I wonder if the neighbours might be applying it to us. We certainly don't see ourselves as such, but one wonders if you ever really see yourself in such a light. But today, I caught a glimpse of what we might be becoming.
Ange and I got home from work. Whether it was the pleasure of having mum and dad home or punishment for us having elected to go to work in the first place, both Anna and Caleb quickly melted down. Anna screaming because she couldn't watch Ice Age 3 and Caleb... well, at first, it wasn't entirely clear what Caleb wanted. Caleb took his screaming to the garden, where he promptly took off his trousers which were apparently the root of all unhappiness. So now we have a sniffling kid running around the garden in only his nappy and another screaming child in the background.
Tonight was the night we were going to go to Ikea and no amount of child protesting was gong to change that plan. We were going to Ikea because the plastic Disney princess paraphernalia and Barbie accessories were taking over our house and we needed some serious Swedish organization to bring sanity back to Anna and Caleb's rooms (Anna's toys have inexplicably spilled into Caleb's room). On this night without scheduled responsibility, it was either Ikea or gardening and gardening is a mountain that I fear to climb. I like the idea, but there's sheer hard work involved. The people who owned the house before us clearly didn't care for gardens.... or at least this particular garden. We're in a fight against years of non-weeding residents. Add to that my complete lack of vision for adding plants that might go together and we've either got a modern art type garden or simply a disaster. Anyway, it was Ikea this night because Ikea included a cheap meal at the Ikea restaurant to go with flat pack furniture guaranteed to make our lives better.
And so is the culmination of a night where I wonder if--for a moment--we might have crossed the line into one of "those" neighbours. Let me paint the picture: we arrive back from Ikea with two tired kids. Caleb is back in only his nappy, having again discarded his trousers. On letting him out of the car, he takes off down the street. Anna, meanwhile is putting up a pre-emptive fight over going to bed--her hair a tangled, matted hive because of the scratching at the end of a bout with the chicken pox and her pink shirt covered in gravy from the Swedish meatballs she'd had for dinner. We unpack the car: this includes our new flat-pack furniture with its giant bright pink plastic tubs (chosen by Anna to put her pink plastic Barbie bits in), much rubbish and the dirty nappy from the boot-change that had happened 20 minutes earlier. Caleb, also covered in gravy, is collected just before entering the intersection at the end of the road and carried back under one arm (bright pink plastic tubs in the other). Both children are ushered across the lawn, through the squall of dandelion fluff, to the front door. While opening the door, Caleb is put down and immediately makes a run for it. While entry to the house is gained, Caleb is lost to the back garden where he immediately pulls out the hockey stick and demands a game of street hockey wearing only his nappy and a gravy covered t-shirt... which, incidentally was bought for a pound out of the back of a car at Sunday market in rural Norfolk.
Let's hope the fact that we actually endured bath time and made them brush their teeth pulls us back from the brink...
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Thursday, May 06, 2010
So good to be back...
Gently prodding by a kind comment that I should write again, I am finally getting back on the wagon...
Vancouver was recently awarded the dubious title of being the least affordable place to live in the world. While I remain unconvinced that a view of the mountains makes that somehow worthwhile, we're settling into the life here. I can confirm that affordability does not make the "reasons to love Vancouver" check column. This lack of affordability is why my penchant for getting a regular Europe fix seems ever further from reality.
So, with Caleb about to turn two years old, we decided to hop a flight back to the UK to visit family and friends before he became full fare. Of course, implicit in him not being "full fare" is fact that he also doesn't get a seat either. Whether saving $1000 is worth having a nearly 2 year old on your lap for 10 hours is a matter of debate, though if one wouldn't miss $1000 I don't think there's actually much to discuss. As it turns out, we would miss $1000 and so Caleb traveled lap class and it felt more like a cattle car than ever for Ange, Anna and I. Thank goodness for those little TV screens in the back of the seats that they now do. Eight straight hours of Cailou is moderately palatable given the options available to you for entertaining a 2 year old boy in 2 square feet of space.
Arriving in England was like arriving home for me. We arrived with throngs of people, poured out of the arrivals doors and were greeted by both my sister and the smell of diesel fumes from the waiting taxis. I sucked it in, enjoying every last carcinogen. We plodded along in wonderful London traffic. It took us nearly 15 minutes to drive the 200 metres past the Tower of London and Tower Bridge and I savoured every second. I smiled at the realisation that pedestrians no longer had any rights outside of zebra crossing. Not even the economic crisis and government in turmoil worries that were on every radio station were going to turn me off my England high. Indeed, all it has served to do is lower the value of the pound and drive down house prices. Rather distractingly, this whole crisis only serves to tease me by making our overpriced 60-year-old bungalow in need of a new roof for a 400 year old thatched cottage in a village in the Thames valley.
The trip didn't lend itself to stories of action or adventure. Travelling with a 2 and 4 year old puts the brakes on a bit. It was mainly family and friends. Brilliant to see Emily, Armando and Stella, who know London so very well. We took in the Tower of London, which really is a fantastic little castle for the centre of a major city. Anna even saw a ghost thanks to the quick wits of one of the beefeaters who work there who realised she was looking for ghosts. We saw some London-based friends before going down to stay with old friends in Southampton and then stayed over a few days in Caversham with our very good friends from when we were there. It was both nostalgic and wonderful to be back in our little village. Then it was up to Norfolk to see Grandad, Sue and Sam... and of course Sid the Dog and Morris the Cat. Puddy the Cat was also there (so I'm told), but he didn't make a show in 5 days. The kids enjoyed long periods on the beach, a visit to a castle (how could you not?), several walks in ancient Norfolk villages (which always include a stop for coffee/hot chocolate), and a day on the rides at a proper English sea-side resort (we bought the tea towel). We ate an inordinate amount of take-away curry and stopped at all the shops we miss: John Lewis, Next, M&S and, of course, Waitrose. It's almost worth going to England just to do your grocery shopping at Waitrose.
It was all very much escapism from our lives in Vancouver. Moreso than one might imagine, considering my highlights above include a trip to a grocery store. Still, now we're back. Vancouver seems even less affordable when one dwells on London seeming cheaper (clearly, I'm apt to dwell) though the view of the mountains hasn't changed. Our house still needs a new roof. That said, Ange and I are excited to be nearing the time when our friends outside of Vancouver start making summer plans that include Vancouver. So, I'd like to officially declare our house open to visiting friends. We can promise a remotely comfortable bed, good company, good food and few babysitting responsibilities.
Vancouver was recently awarded the dubious title of being the least affordable place to live in the world. While I remain unconvinced that a view of the mountains makes that somehow worthwhile, we're settling into the life here. I can confirm that affordability does not make the "reasons to love Vancouver" check column. This lack of affordability is why my penchant for getting a regular Europe fix seems ever further from reality.
So, with Caleb about to turn two years old, we decided to hop a flight back to the UK to visit family and friends before he became full fare. Of course, implicit in him not being "full fare" is fact that he also doesn't get a seat either. Whether saving $1000 is worth having a nearly 2 year old on your lap for 10 hours is a matter of debate, though if one wouldn't miss $1000 I don't think there's actually much to discuss. As it turns out, we would miss $1000 and so Caleb traveled lap class and it felt more like a cattle car than ever for Ange, Anna and I. Thank goodness for those little TV screens in the back of the seats that they now do. Eight straight hours of Cailou is moderately palatable given the options available to you for entertaining a 2 year old boy in 2 square feet of space.
Arriving in England was like arriving home for me. We arrived with throngs of people, poured out of the arrivals doors and were greeted by both my sister and the smell of diesel fumes from the waiting taxis. I sucked it in, enjoying every last carcinogen. We plodded along in wonderful London traffic. It took us nearly 15 minutes to drive the 200 metres past the Tower of London and Tower Bridge and I savoured every second. I smiled at the realisation that pedestrians no longer had any rights outside of zebra crossing. Not even the economic crisis and government in turmoil worries that were on every radio station were going to turn me off my England high. Indeed, all it has served to do is lower the value of the pound and drive down house prices. Rather distractingly, this whole crisis only serves to tease me by making our overpriced 60-year-old bungalow in need of a new roof for a 400 year old thatched cottage in a village in the Thames valley.
The trip didn't lend itself to stories of action or adventure. Travelling with a 2 and 4 year old puts the brakes on a bit. It was mainly family and friends. Brilliant to see Emily, Armando and Stella, who know London so very well. We took in the Tower of London, which really is a fantastic little castle for the centre of a major city. Anna even saw a ghost thanks to the quick wits of one of the beefeaters who work there who realised she was looking for ghosts. We saw some London-based friends before going down to stay with old friends in Southampton and then stayed over a few days in Caversham with our very good friends from when we were there. It was both nostalgic and wonderful to be back in our little village. Then it was up to Norfolk to see Grandad, Sue and Sam... and of course Sid the Dog and Morris the Cat. Puddy the Cat was also there (so I'm told), but he didn't make a show in 5 days. The kids enjoyed long periods on the beach, a visit to a castle (how could you not?), several walks in ancient Norfolk villages (which always include a stop for coffee/hot chocolate), and a day on the rides at a proper English sea-side resort (we bought the tea towel). We ate an inordinate amount of take-away curry and stopped at all the shops we miss: John Lewis, Next, M&S and, of course, Waitrose. It's almost worth going to England just to do your grocery shopping at Waitrose.
It was all very much escapism from our lives in Vancouver. Moreso than one might imagine, considering my highlights above include a trip to a grocery store. Still, now we're back. Vancouver seems even less affordable when one dwells on London seeming cheaper (clearly, I'm apt to dwell) though the view of the mountains hasn't changed. Our house still needs a new roof. That said, Ange and I are excited to be nearing the time when our friends outside of Vancouver start making summer plans that include Vancouver. So, I'd like to officially declare our house open to visiting friends. We can promise a remotely comfortable bed, good company, good food and few babysitting responsibilities.
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