blog 2
..Cannot be put off a moment longer! Hope you are all keeping well and I’m guilty as sin for not emailing individually. I always swore I’d never send round robins after Sarah’s aunt used to send Christmas ‘newsletters’ detailing all her family’s achievements in retch inducing detail and here I am doing the same. But time is our enemy and I am forced to compromise with the Devil in this tawdry excuse of a ‘blog’.
Almost half-way through October and it’s still good to be back. Okay so we are down to our last hundreds of pounds, rather than the thousands we had in June, but it’s all money well spent: er……
Where the money has gone
1) newish Citroen Berlingo (which Top gear has described: ‘as elegant as a bread van’, but economical and big),
2) leaking roof repair on the extension and new radiator,
3) new carpet on stairs and upstairs replacing hideous swirling 70s monstrosity,
4) repair to garage roof,
5) paint, ,
6) clothes drier,
7) bills,
8) food,
9) council tax
10) school dinners, school uniform.
11) Veuve Cliquot Champagne
So that’s it really. We really will be scrabbling around in the dirt by blog 3.
But it is still good to be here.
Why It Is Still Good to Be Here
Tely is great, no really I mean it – Freeview is excellent there’s always something watchable on, autumn is much more beautiful than I remembered it to be, the kids are happy at school, I can listen to the radio all day (STILL haven’t got broadband, grrr) while pratting around at home. Sarah has got six hours of work at Bath Uni – miserably paid evening work, but her foot is in the door, I’ve got a few hours work at Bournemouth on top of the student money so we may not have to eat the grass in our garden just yet.
Started Commuting to Bournemouth once a week by train this month – a two hour journey. Very chuffed to have a bona-fide young person’s railcard – almost worth coming home just for that. I can get a train back to Avoncliff which is a dinky unmanned ‘request stop’ 5 minutes walk through the woods, but yesterday had to walk back from Bradford at 10pm and walk home for 25 minutes along the unlit canal past the odd canal boat lit only by lanterns, candles and solar lights. Fabulous smell of woodsmoke and great atmosphere made up for trudging through dark with briefcase like some demented rural commuter.
Studying is interesting so far, mixing on the introductory course with people investigating a weird variety of subjects across many disciplines: volcanoes, medieval salt farming along coastal Britain, computer graphics skin rendering, data mining, intellectual property rights of programme formats, topics I don’t understand the title of and so on. Huge amount of work ahead which I should be doing about 6 hours a day, but managing only one or two so far because the distractions are many and various. A typical day could go like this:
7.30 Wake up. Peek through the bedroom curtains and look out over the road down the valley at the mist covering the chestnut trees and shiver. Beautiful but getting cold. I climb stiffly down the stairs careful to clutch onto the banisters with both hands so as not to hurl myself to the bottom. Feel as rheumatic as a 70 year old man – that may be being back in the cold, it may be various injuries catching up on me, it may be that Sarah is putting strychnine in my cereal I just don’t know. 20 minutes in the bath with Sight and Sound or the Guardian Weekly (can’t stand the sheer bulk of a daily paper, nor can we afford it) to try and wake up and soften geriatric muscles.
8.00
Make breakfast – fry ups for the first few weeks, but just cereal now that the novelty of pork has worn off. Wake Tom with a starting gun (Isobel has been watching CBeebies since 7.30). Tut loudly while listening to news and chewing AllBran.
8.30
Shout and carry on like the neighbours from hell as we try to get kids shoed, dressed and out the door. ‘Tom, for the seventh time, put your SOCKS on!’ ‘Isobel, ISOBEL stop hiding now and come and brush your HAIR!’
8.55
Clutching dinner money or sandwiches (can take either), school bags, PE kit, swimming kit, trip money, etc. wheel bikes through house getting water or dirt over wooden hall floor. Cycle helmets on and away to school – three minutes away on the other side of the park but it might as well be at the other end of the county with the number of exhortations required to get Isobel there. I am sharing Sarah’s small ladies bike so look like local clown on circus bike.
9.00 (school starts at 8.55)
Get to school. Tom locks his bike, but his is one of only two locked – this really is rural England. Isobel’s is not worth taking so that’s unlocked. See Isobel into classroom and feel vaguely uncomfortable in un-ironed tshirt, shorts, or more recently, fleece, crumpled jeans and muddy trainers. Not many power dressers amongst mums and dads but low key green welly and their clothes are always clean, and ironed.
Kiss goodbye to children, get back on bike and breathe sigh of relief.
9.10
Get home, make a coffee. One more bagel.
9.30
Take dogs from their carpeted, solar lit garage for walk. This is the best bit of the day if its not pouring with rain. So far it has rained maybe one out of every five or six days enough that a walk is off. Hottest autumn on record (yawn) due to global warming etc. Walk down through woods to river or across cow fields to open land by Westwood Manor where the dogs can run and poo. Hate poo, hate poo, hate poo. They are quite good at saving it till then and I’m sure the farmer will thank us in twenty years, but carry poo bags if it isn’t on the huge farmer’s field. On the way back pick a few blackberries from the hedges or pick up a shiny conker for the children. There are loads and loads of fantastic walks around us which makes up for not having the money for any form of entertainment other than watching telly.
10.15
Get back. Feed dogs. Wash up breakfast.
10.30
Put washing in washing machine. Unbelievable, depressing volume of washing. Everything always damp, school uniforms always seemed to be stained with feltpen or blackberries or something that stain remover can’t touch.
10.45
Now must start work. Pick up book. Decide to check email. Still on dial-up so must be quick, shit write it quickly!
11.00
Pick up book again. Remember I haven’t put up shelf in bathroom yet. Get drill, look for extension lead. Faf around for half an hour. Put up shelf using wrong sized screws. Half an hour cleaning dust from carpet. Decide to hoover living room which is also coated with dirt. Make a coffee.
12.00
Pick up book. Read two pages, can’t find a pencil to make notes. Go downstairs to find one. Washing machine has stopped. Put washing on line or radiator (only on two hours a day). House full of damp washing. Drier in emergency which is in garage, but 10p a minute or something so only in emergency. Dogs bark at something, lean out and tell them to ‘be quiet!’ Make a cup of tea.
12.20
Pick up book. Read another page, look for and finally find pencil, make a single note.
12.30
Feeling peckish. Look through cupboard and with sinking heart heat tin of sardines and put on toast. Cup of tea.
1.00
Tut while listening to news and washing up. Second round of clothes washing has finished. Try to find space on radiator or whirly line in the garden.
1.30
Make another coffee (instant by the way).
1.40
Pick up book. Read three pages. Fall asleep.
1.50
Woken by my own drool, go downstairs and make a coffee. Mail arrives. Write checks for bills. Chase late delivery of radiator/drier/broadband/roof repair etc.
2.00
Remember we are out of bread, milk food in general. Drive to Trowbridge and buy everything in Asda with discount sticker. Spend ten minutes looking for cheapest wine – not buying English wine a second time. Plump for 1.79 Spanish ‘table wine’.
2.45
Drive home. Unpack shopping.
3.15
Cycle to school. One has art/science/football club and stays on till 4 o’clock. Cycle back with one tired child.
3.55
Go back to pick up second, even more tired child.
4.15
Pick up book. Read four more pages and write two notes.
4.30
Feed dogs. Check Tom is doing homework. Isobel is fixated by Basil Brush or something on cBBC so can safely be ignored for two hours.
5.15
Make dinner listening to radio.
6.00
Eat dinner. Couple of bottles of small cheap French lager (6 for 2.80)
6.45
Wash up. Cup of coffee.
7.00
Check email, write email, or in this case ‘blog’, or take a short walk with the dogs in the fabulous blue light of an autumn evening. Kids watch Dr. Who – ideal viewing for getting ready for bed.
8.00
Get kids to bed. Read books with them. Tom irritates me by buzzing his sonic screwdriver birthday present near my ear, repeatedly.
8.30
Fall asleep.
8.45
Woken by own drool.
9.00
Watch telly all night. Catch up on comedy repeats of 11 years on BBC3, or new comedy - Extras, Rory Bremner, The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, or an arty movie Film 4 (now free), BBC4, UKTV History – no more Amazon!
11.00
Glass of Budgen whisky and ice. Reduced to the status of a bum.
12.30
Night night.
Hmm, it looks pretty sad but it beats working for a living.
Right, not had any questions from anyone about leaving UAE so I’m assuming you are all staying for the next few months at least. Miss you all and want to hear any news about how you all are or how things are in Al Ain/Dubai.
Lots of Love,
Dave
Almost half-way through October and it’s still good to be back. Okay so we are down to our last hundreds of pounds, rather than the thousands we had in June, but it’s all money well spent: er……
Where the money has gone
1) newish Citroen Berlingo (which Top gear has described: ‘as elegant as a bread van’, but economical and big),
2) leaking roof repair on the extension and new radiator,
3) new carpet on stairs and upstairs replacing hideous swirling 70s monstrosity,
4) repair to garage roof,
5) paint, ,
6) clothes drier,
7) bills,
8) food,
9) council tax
10) school dinners, school uniform.
11) Veuve Cliquot Champagne
So that’s it really. We really will be scrabbling around in the dirt by blog 3.
But it is still good to be here.
Why It Is Still Good to Be Here
Tely is great, no really I mean it – Freeview is excellent there’s always something watchable on, autumn is much more beautiful than I remembered it to be, the kids are happy at school, I can listen to the radio all day (STILL haven’t got broadband, grrr) while pratting around at home. Sarah has got six hours of work at Bath Uni – miserably paid evening work, but her foot is in the door, I’ve got a few hours work at Bournemouth on top of the student money so we may not have to eat the grass in our garden just yet.
Started Commuting to Bournemouth once a week by train this month – a two hour journey. Very chuffed to have a bona-fide young person’s railcard – almost worth coming home just for that. I can get a train back to Avoncliff which is a dinky unmanned ‘request stop’ 5 minutes walk through the woods, but yesterday had to walk back from Bradford at 10pm and walk home for 25 minutes along the unlit canal past the odd canal boat lit only by lanterns, candles and solar lights. Fabulous smell of woodsmoke and great atmosphere made up for trudging through dark with briefcase like some demented rural commuter.
Studying is interesting so far, mixing on the introductory course with people investigating a weird variety of subjects across many disciplines: volcanoes, medieval salt farming along coastal Britain, computer graphics skin rendering, data mining, intellectual property rights of programme formats, topics I don’t understand the title of and so on. Huge amount of work ahead which I should be doing about 6 hours a day, but managing only one or two so far because the distractions are many and various. A typical day could go like this:
7.30 Wake up. Peek through the bedroom curtains and look out over the road down the valley at the mist covering the chestnut trees and shiver. Beautiful but getting cold. I climb stiffly down the stairs careful to clutch onto the banisters with both hands so as not to hurl myself to the bottom. Feel as rheumatic as a 70 year old man – that may be being back in the cold, it may be various injuries catching up on me, it may be that Sarah is putting strychnine in my cereal I just don’t know. 20 minutes in the bath with Sight and Sound or the Guardian Weekly (can’t stand the sheer bulk of a daily paper, nor can we afford it) to try and wake up and soften geriatric muscles.
8.00
Make breakfast – fry ups for the first few weeks, but just cereal now that the novelty of pork has worn off. Wake Tom with a starting gun (Isobel has been watching CBeebies since 7.30). Tut loudly while listening to news and chewing AllBran.
8.30
Shout and carry on like the neighbours from hell as we try to get kids shoed, dressed and out the door. ‘Tom, for the seventh time, put your SOCKS on!’ ‘Isobel, ISOBEL stop hiding now and come and brush your HAIR!’
8.55
Clutching dinner money or sandwiches (can take either), school bags, PE kit, swimming kit, trip money, etc. wheel bikes through house getting water or dirt over wooden hall floor. Cycle helmets on and away to school – three minutes away on the other side of the park but it might as well be at the other end of the county with the number of exhortations required to get Isobel there. I am sharing Sarah’s small ladies bike so look like local clown on circus bike.
9.00 (school starts at 8.55)
Get to school. Tom locks his bike, but his is one of only two locked – this really is rural England. Isobel’s is not worth taking so that’s unlocked. See Isobel into classroom and feel vaguely uncomfortable in un-ironed tshirt, shorts, or more recently, fleece, crumpled jeans and muddy trainers. Not many power dressers amongst mums and dads but low key green welly and their clothes are always clean, and ironed.
Kiss goodbye to children, get back on bike and breathe sigh of relief.
9.10
Get home, make a coffee. One more bagel.
9.30
Take dogs from their carpeted, solar lit garage for walk. This is the best bit of the day if its not pouring with rain. So far it has rained maybe one out of every five or six days enough that a walk is off. Hottest autumn on record (yawn) due to global warming etc. Walk down through woods to river or across cow fields to open land by Westwood Manor where the dogs can run and poo. Hate poo, hate poo, hate poo. They are quite good at saving it till then and I’m sure the farmer will thank us in twenty years, but carry poo bags if it isn’t on the huge farmer’s field. On the way back pick a few blackberries from the hedges or pick up a shiny conker for the children. There are loads and loads of fantastic walks around us which makes up for not having the money for any form of entertainment other than watching telly.
10.15
Get back. Feed dogs. Wash up breakfast.
10.30
Put washing in washing machine. Unbelievable, depressing volume of washing. Everything always damp, school uniforms always seemed to be stained with feltpen or blackberries or something that stain remover can’t touch.
10.45
Now must start work. Pick up book. Decide to check email. Still on dial-up so must be quick, shit write it quickly!
11.00
Pick up book again. Remember I haven’t put up shelf in bathroom yet. Get drill, look for extension lead. Faf around for half an hour. Put up shelf using wrong sized screws. Half an hour cleaning dust from carpet. Decide to hoover living room which is also coated with dirt. Make a coffee.
12.00
Pick up book. Read two pages, can’t find a pencil to make notes. Go downstairs to find one. Washing machine has stopped. Put washing on line or radiator (only on two hours a day). House full of damp washing. Drier in emergency which is in garage, but 10p a minute or something so only in emergency. Dogs bark at something, lean out and tell them to ‘be quiet!’ Make a cup of tea.
12.20
Pick up book. Read another page, look for and finally find pencil, make a single note.
12.30
Feeling peckish. Look through cupboard and with sinking heart heat tin of sardines and put on toast. Cup of tea.
1.00
Tut while listening to news and washing up. Second round of clothes washing has finished. Try to find space on radiator or whirly line in the garden.
1.30
Make another coffee (instant by the way).
1.40
Pick up book. Read three pages. Fall asleep.
1.50
Woken by my own drool, go downstairs and make a coffee. Mail arrives. Write checks for bills. Chase late delivery of radiator/drier/broadband/roof repair etc.
2.00
Remember we are out of bread, milk food in general. Drive to Trowbridge and buy everything in Asda with discount sticker. Spend ten minutes looking for cheapest wine – not buying English wine a second time. Plump for 1.79 Spanish ‘table wine’.
2.45
Drive home. Unpack shopping.
3.15
Cycle to school. One has art/science/football club and stays on till 4 o’clock. Cycle back with one tired child.
3.55
Go back to pick up second, even more tired child.
4.15
Pick up book. Read four more pages and write two notes.
4.30
Feed dogs. Check Tom is doing homework. Isobel is fixated by Basil Brush or something on cBBC so can safely be ignored for two hours.
5.15
Make dinner listening to radio.
6.00
Eat dinner. Couple of bottles of small cheap French lager (6 for 2.80)
6.45
Wash up. Cup of coffee.
7.00
Check email, write email, or in this case ‘blog’, or take a short walk with the dogs in the fabulous blue light of an autumn evening. Kids watch Dr. Who – ideal viewing for getting ready for bed.
8.00
Get kids to bed. Read books with them. Tom irritates me by buzzing his sonic screwdriver birthday present near my ear, repeatedly.
8.30
Fall asleep.
8.45
Woken by own drool.
9.00
Watch telly all night. Catch up on comedy repeats of 11 years on BBC3, or new comedy - Extras, Rory Bremner, The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, or an arty movie Film 4 (now free), BBC4, UKTV History – no more Amazon!
11.00
Glass of Budgen whisky and ice. Reduced to the status of a bum.
12.30
Night night.
Hmm, it looks pretty sad but it beats working for a living.
Right, not had any questions from anyone about leaving UAE so I’m assuming you are all staying for the next few months at least. Miss you all and want to hear any news about how you all are or how things are in Al Ain/Dubai.
Lots of Love,
Dave
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