Leeds Castle, Maidstone, Kent

We were supposed to tour Dover Castle on this day, but after a wonderful night's stay in the Old Churchill hotel on the beach and a traditional English breakfast, we arrived at the gates of Dover Castle to find out it was closed. Apparently, they are closed every Tuesday and Wednesday during the winter. That would have been nice to know before we drove all the way down here.

So, after being pretty ticked off for a few minutes, Kevin suggested that we go to Leeds Castle. I'm SO glad that we did. This was such a wonderful place for our whole family. If I had to choose another name for the castle, I'd call it Bird castle because it was surrounded with peacocks, ducks, geese, white and black swans, and there was an aviary behind the castle with all sorts of exotic birds in cages. Kevin would probably call it Maze castle because of the fun hedge maze behind the castle that we ran around in for an hour. He also loved the huge playground for the kids that looked like a castle.

Leeds castle was absolutely breath-taking in its English understated simplicity. It is basically two stone structures (the older one in the middle of the man-made moat being built in the 1300's and the "newer" one on the small island in the middle of the moat being built in the 1800's) in the middle of a man-made lake, surrounded by rolling hills with grazing sheep and huge oak trees. I felt like I had stepped into a movie. It was gorgeous.

The house itself was decorated for Christmas. Every room was a scene from the Nutcracker. There were 17 Christmas trees throughout the house. It was truly beautiful.

Our favorite part, though, was the maze. We ran around and around looking for the right way to get to the center. Weslee giggled and smiled as he bobbed along on Kevin's back. It was such a fun thing to do as a family. We really had a good time.

Canterbury

I was a Sophmore in high school when I was first introduced to Canterbury through the carefully spun tales of Chaucer. I remember learning the history of Thomas Becket, archbishop of Canterbury's, untimely death (aka murder) inside the confines of the cathedral and the resulting sainthood he achieved through his martyrdom. I remember wondering why so many people would make a pilgrimmage, sometimes walking (or riding a horse, which isn't much more comfortable) for hundreds or even thousands of miles to see the grave of a dead guy. I think I have now solved this mystery.

As we entered the city somewhere around 4 pm, we were taken back by the sheer magesty of the cathedral on the sky line, eluminated in a bright amber glow amid the grey light of dusk. Shoppers and tourists strolled along the 2000 year old Roman city wall, almost perfectly in tact seemingly unaware of the mammoth stone sentinel behind them. Were it not for the traffic of a working day past, we would have fixed our eyes on the structure and studied its detail as we wound our way through the maze of tiny streets and roundabouts. But, we were in unknown territory, our son was tired of sitting and anxious for some exercise, and other cars seemed to materialize before our very eyes and our very bumper. Luckily, we escaped unscathed.

By the time we figured out how to pay for our parking at the lot (those "pay and display" places can be a little confusing) and had walked the several blocks to the city center, it was just after 5 pm. The little light that had lingered when we arrived was long gone and the city was shrouded in winter blackness. We strolled down the quaint streets, decorated for Christmas in lights and wreaths. Shoppers dashed in and out of shops that boasted late night hours in honor of the festive season. They were open until 8 pm!!! (We have yet to discover what the British do with themselves after 6pm. They seem to disappear or hybernate for the night hours and suddenly reappear in the morning hours. I'm of the opinion that they must be alergic to the dark, for once it becomes dark, the streets are deserted!) All of the shops usually close at 5 or 6pm, including the restaurants. And suddenly, as if by magic, the town empties as the English hurry to their little homes.

We, however, enjoyed the "extended" bustle of the shoppers. At 5pm, the mall was still pulsing with the beat of shoes against the cobblestones and the sound of musicians playing a merry tune. Bags were rustling in the wind and families seemed to be enjoying the warmer-than-usual weather of the evening. Vendors were still out selling potato jackets (baked potatoes with a variety of toppings) and sausages.

We stopped off at the Canterbury Christ Church Cathedral; seat of the Archbishop of Canterbury, the head of the Church of England. All of the Anglican church is guided from this one, massive building. We enjoyed the manger scene they had placed out front. Weslee excitedly pointed to baby Jesus and made sure the other kids saw Him as well.

We walked around and around the building. We noticed that during the Reformation, the building was relieved of all of it's "idols", or stone statues of the Catholic saints. During the following centuries since then, the places have been filled with stone images of England's own saints. There are statues of every king and queen, including the infamous King Henry VIII who started the Church of England because he wanted to marry Anne Bolyne and divorce his first wife, Catherine. All of the Archbishops are present. And poor Thomas Becket, the saint the cathedral is most known for, stands in all of his stony glory without a head. It's almost like it wasn't enough to kill him in real life, they had to behead his statue too.

We got to enter the church and hear a part of the even song service. The organist was amazing and Kevin was able to audio record a little of it. I don't think I've ever heard an organist's fingers move so fast. It was beautiful and sort of haunting as the music filled the cavernous nave of the church.

As I left, I realized that the early pilgrims didn't come so much to see the stained glass likeness of Thomas Becket, his beheaded statue, or even to commune with a dead guy. I think they came for the grandeur of the cathedral itself. I think they came to feel that there was something bigger than humanity, and the cathedral certainly gives that feeling. At the end of the long, uncomfortable journey, I think they wanted reassurance that there was someone or something bigger than their problems and their earthly woes. It's interesting that throughout all of recorded history, man always looks for something higher than himself to make sense of the madness here on earth.

Sick of Being Sick

We are now well into our third week of being sick in this household. Personally, I'm sick of it! (Play on words intended!) Weslee started us off with a cold on the first of December. Kevin and Teri quickly followed with sore throats of their own. Teri burst out into a full blown flu on December 6th, right after her annual Visiting Teaching Brunch. After a few hours of taking pictures in the freezing cold for the Primary, Teri was shivering not just from the wind, but from the fever that had taken hold of her. She drove the hour home and went to bed. After a few days, both Teri and Weslee seemed to be doing better.

But, then Weslee began cutting teeth and Teri had a few restless nights caring for him. Teri got sick again, this time with a chest cold that kept her sniffling and coughing well into the night. Weslee got his first ear infection and we took him to the doctor for antibiotics. After a few days with the antibiotics, he seemed to be doing better, and his tooth broke the surface which relieved some of his pain. Teri, with increased sleep, seemed to be on the mend.

However, this week has brought a fresh bought of fun. Teri's cold developed into bronchitis. She coughs incessantly and has a hard time sleeping at night...and NOTHING seems to help...not cough drops, vapor rub, or cough syrup. Today at church, she had to leave sacrament because she was interrupting the Christmas program...and had to leave the classroom during the 3rd hour for the same reason. (It's REALLY REALLY annoying!) Kevin has taken to sleeping on the couch so that he can get some rest and also so that his sore throat doesn't turn into something more serious.

The latest gift in the sickness merry-go-round happened at church today. Weslee broke out in an awful rash, little red welts all over his body during Sacrament meeting. Luckily, we have about 20 doctors in our ward. One of the pediatricians took a look at him and told us it was just a reaction from his antibiotic and whatever virus he's had. He told us it was nothing to worry about and would go away in a few days. He's not itching or red or puffy. So, it's not an allergic reaction. But, either way, we still have a polka-dotted kid for a little while.

It's frustrating. Seriously. Of all the times of year! We had wanted to travel to some of the Christmas markets in the area...but all we've wanted to do is sleep with all of this illness floating around. We've missed most of them. We're heading to Dover tomorrow, regardless of how we feel and we're going to make use of this Christmas vacation to travel and see the sights. We feel better, but the sickness is clinging to us and won't let go. Part of me worries that something else is going to hit us. But, frankly, at this point...I DON'T CARE. I'm ready to get out and see the country that we're living in. And, no amount of coughing my lungs out is going to stop me.

Independence

In order to get a picture of him actually looking at the camera, we began singing "5 Little Monkeys". This is Weslee's favorite part where Mr. Alligator "SNAPS" the monkey right out of the tree.

Wes sees the ducks and is yelling "Waat! Waat! Waat! Waat!" at them all.

Wes is at an age now where there is a delicate balance between independence and the desire to cling to my leg. Today's walk was an excellent example. We started off on a footpath near our house towards the river to see and feed the ducks...or the "Waat Waat Waat" as Weslee calls them. It was a rare day when it wasn't too cold (we were able to stay outside for an hour until our fingers became numb) and the sun was shining. The sun doesn't shine here every day in the winter. Most days are filled with clouds, and most of the time, those clouds are filled with a misty rain that covers every thing in a slippery film. The wet seeps into the ground and creates mud everywhere. I hate getting muddy, but it's a part of the British countryside I've had to come to accept. There are only two choices here...stay in doors and become terribly depressed, or venture outdoors and become terribly cold and muddy. We choose the cold and muddy alternative and wash laundry often. Our radiators are often draped with everything from kitchen towels to underwear. The radiators dry clothes far faster than our British clothes dryer. Most people here just hang their laundry out to dry in the morning. I'm still confused how laundry can dry when it's misting outside. I don't trust the method or the dryer and so I continue to use the radiators.

On today's adventure, we head out for the ducks after lunch, even though I'm aware that Weslee is tired. I know that if we wait until after his nap, it will be getting dark and colder and neither of us will enjoy the walk as much (the sun goes down at 3:30 pm right now and will continue to get darker sooner until Dec. 21st). So, we bundle up and head outside. Weslee seems particularly excited to be outside or "side" as he calls it and races down the side walk with a huge smile on his face yelling "Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi!" to every person and dog he meets.

I finally steer him towards the footpath (they are dirt paths throughout the countryside and connect the many villages to one another) that leads to the river. He had wanted to follow the middle school children into town. The teachers all compliment him on his winter hat as they pass from the middle school and disappear down Church Walk toward St. Mary's Cathedral and he hides his face in my jeans. I thank them for him. After they pass, he lurches after them, tripping on his own feet to get off the curb and onto the street. I catch him as he falls and lead him in the other direction. He pulls away for a moment and then forgets why he's struggling and begins happily walking in the right direction. I marvel at how easily toddlers are distracted.

We stop to smell random leaves, usually wet and moldering on the soggy English turf. We stop to examine tiny flowers that somehow manage to bloom in the winter dreariness. We stop to play in the mud and examine the bottoms of our shoes. And finally, we reach the footpath where I can let him run free between the fences. He runs and tries to jump, looking more like he's dancing than jumping. He examines a garbage truck going on it's daily rounds. He stands and watches it for more than 5 minutes as it disappears down the road. The men stop and smile at him. He hides his face in my jeans again, which are getting dirtier by the minute. When they leave, he begins his run down the lane again. He loves being free. The distance between us emboldens him and he runs faster laughing loudly, hands waving in the air.

The freedom can't last for long. He's not stable enough on his feet to run as fast as he would like, especially on the slippery mud. He falls, face first...luckily into a pile of blackened leaves. He doesn't move. He waits for me to pick him up and comfort him. I encourage him to stand up and dust himself off. He won't. His pride is wounded more than his little cherub face and he waits for me so that he can hide himself in my shirt and hear me whisper words of comfort and affirmation. I hold him, knowing full well that he's wiping snot and mud all over my jacket. I'm starting to regard such offerings as normal parts of my apparel.

After a few minutes, he uncovers his face and looks around excitedly. He's ready to be free again and I let him down, even though he's told me that he wants "Up". "Up" means up and down in this household. I touch his feet to the earth and almost immediately, they carry him far down the lane.

We get to the river and see the ducks. Wonder crosses my sweet son's eyes. He loves the animals. He yells at them "Waat! Waat! Waat!" and hopes they can understand his "ducky" language. He laughs hysterically when they dunk under the water and shake the leftover droplets from their wings. He flaps around on the bank, alternately yelling and laughing for 5 minutes.

And then, the magic is gone. The wind gets colder. I notice his little hands are now quite red. He rubs his eyes and I realize that bed time is upon us. He reaches his hands up and boldly asks "Up?" and this time I hold him, realizing that the walk back will require my feet alone. A wise friend once told me never to walk with my children further than I was willing to carry them back. I think of this as we trudge through the mud back to our house. My son's muddy shoes brush against my jeans as we walk and I notice the stains growing blacker with each stride. I've only recently dressed for the day and I am glad that I put on jeans I had worn the day before. That leaves me a clean pair for Young Women's later tonight. I feel him nuzzle his head into my neck and I feel his cold nose and hot breath against my skin. He's getting heavy, but I feel the sweetness of the moment and I don't require him to walk any further. I pat his back as we walk and talk about how much fun I've had with him.

By the time we reach home, the sun has sunk towards the horizon, kissing the tree line. It is 2:45 and the rays of light are already getting long. The tempurature, pleasant only an hour before, is forcing both Weslee and I to shiver. We take our muddied shoes off outside the door and step into the cottage.

My little boy, so keen to be independent, snuggles further into me as we take off our jackets. I take the time to snuggle him in a big warm blanket and read to him while he warms. I think of the paradox of toddlerhood, the independence mingled with the necessity for safety, guidance, and comfort and realize that in so many ways, we are all toddlers to God. We all walk down the path of life, sometimes running faster than we can, all glorying in our freedom and our independence. And yet, our lives are wrapped so wholly around Him who created us. How many times in my fear, frustration, or sheer exhaustion have I cried out to him to carry me and found that he was strong enough to carry us both. I wonder if in those moments, when my whole soul reaches out to him with trust and humility, he feels as I feel carrying my son back from a long walk. I wonder if he's overcome with love for me as he helps and comforts me the way I'm overcome with love as I help and comfort Weslee. And I am overcome with gratitude, not only for my moments with Weslee, but for the tangible understanding they give me into the character of an eternal Being who has Fathered me.

Catching Up

These are the rolls I made. Man...it makes me want to make another pan. I'm feeding the missionaries tomorrow...why the heck not?

Weslee wouldn't stop eating the rolls. He kept running back to the table after we had started cleaning up and kept grabbing rolls from one of the low tables. He ate and ate until his heart was contented!

At the service project. The kids kept coming up and swiping the candy. Then again, someone else I know kept swiping the candy too...cough cough Kevin!! cough cough. Ahem...what was I saying?

So, it's been a WHILE since I've written and so much has happened. We haven't travelled much...mainly because since Thanksgiving, we've been unpacking and sick. Let's start with the unpacking...

Our stuff came the day before Thanksgiving. We stayed up, joyous to see our stuff again and overwhelmed by boxes, until 2 am, finding places for it all and wondering if it was really all going to fit. You'll recall that we only brought half of our possessions, knowing it would be a tight fit. But, looking at all of the boxes and literally having to crawl over them to get to the bathroom or up the stairs, or into bed at night...we wondered if perhaps we should have left more behind in the United States. We started in the kitchen because, well, the next day was Thanksgiving and Teri had signed up to bake rolls. She did this, knowing full well that all of her stuff would be at her house, in boxes, the day before. But, she did it anyway. Silly girl. However, by the time 2 am rolled around that first night, the kitchen was pretty well cleared away and she was able to bake the rolls afterall.

Since we stayed up so late the night before Thanksgiving, we all slept, made rolls, and relaxed the next day...pretending all the while that our house wasn't really being taken over with rogue boxes. We enjoyed the holiday and even welcomed a guest (from the real estate agent's office) in our jammies in the middle of the day. We had Thanksgiving dinner with the members of our church later in the afternoon. Therefore, there really was no reason to get dressed until much later in the day.

Thanksgiving dinner was lovely. The turkey was good, there were mashed potatoes, and rolls. I did miss family, I won't lie. I did miss Mom's pumpkin pie, and grandma's pink fluff. I missed being able scoop up seconds whenever I wanted instead of waiting in line. But, overall, it was better than expected. We weren't alone. We celebrated the holiday. We made friends. It was a success. We even got to participate in a service project after dinner. We made goodie bags for all of the missionaries in the MTC in London to bring them some holiday cheer during the Christmas season. It was alot of fun...and a lot of candy!

Since Thanksgiving, we pulled it together and really got the house in order. Within a week, the house was organized (except this silly office I'm sitting in, and the bedroom, where at this very moment, I hear Kevin wrestling with the last few boxes of clothing and shoes). I purposely planned our annual Visiting Teaching Brunch the first week in December here at our house to get me to really put everything away in a timely manner. There's something about a deadline that makes you suck it all up and forget how daunting a task is and just well...do it! We got the living room put together just a few days before the party and it looks marvelous. It's my favorite room in the house now...and my favorite living room I've ever had. The fireplace, french doors, large furniture and just the ancient beams on the ceiling and hardwood floors with a big chocolate brown shag rug smack dab in the middle all add a comfortable, warm, and "lived in" feeling to the room that makes you want to snuggle in a chair with a good book...and I've done just that SEVERAL times over the past weeks. I've been in heaven!

Right before the brunch, Weslee began having a hard time sleeping and I stayed awake with him into the wee hours of the morning. We found out that this kid is teething AGAIN. He's cutting his 2 year molars. He's way to anxious about getting teeth and often gets them all at once. It's nice in the sense that once he cuts them, it's over with. But frustrating because since he cuts all of his teeth at once, he's a real booger for a week or so. On top of that, he got sick.

And then, within hours of the brunch, I got sick. Cough. Sore Throat. Fever. I was taking pictures for the Christmas program "surprise" at church when I felt myself starting to get weak and listless. By the time I got home, my fever was in full swing. I didn't go to church the next day, which was a bummer because I got a new calling! I've been called to work with the Young Women again. I'll be the second counsellor. I get to work with the 12 and 13 year olds. I can hardly wait.

The rest of the week was pretty much useless. I had no energy. I couldn't taste food, which meant that I didn't want to cook. We lived on left overs until they were gone...and then our diet consisted of frozen burritos and cereal. I tried to cook one of the nights and made tacos. They were horrible. I couldn't taste them, but Kevin's face looked like he was struggling to make me believe they tasted OK. If Kevin had a problem with the taste, you know they must have been pretty bad. To this day, I don't know what they tasted like...I just know I'll never cook again when I can't taste. Poor man!

During the week, I still attended Young Women's, Enrichment, and our Ward Christmas Party. I've felt pretty ill at all three events...though things got better toward the end of the week. I thought our family was starting to pull out of it all, but Kevin's informed me today that his sore throat has started to move into his chest. He's been sniffling and coughing all day and I worry that he'll get as sick as Weslee and I were. I'm crossing my fingers that he won't since Christmas is next week and we plan to travel around the UK during the two weeks of Christmas and New Year's vacations.

Nov 23- Snow and Christmas Ornaments

Today was a lovely day. We woke up to snow! Seriously. It never snows here. It wasn’t sticking as we got ready for church, but right as we readied ourselves to leave, it began to stick to the sidewalk and road. The Sadlers (our neighbors) had told us NOT to go to church if there was snow on the roads because the Brits don’t know how to drive in it and there are tons of accidents, so I popped over to their house to see if they were going. They were already on their way out the door, so we drove to church with confidence. All the while we were there, huge flakes drifted past the windows and we came outside to an inch or so of white fluffy fun.

We were hoping to get some great pictures of our house surrounded by the white stuff. Well, the weather decided not to cooperate. All of Mildenhall looked wet, as if it had simply been raining all day. I wish I would have brought my camera to church. The fields were gorgeous covered in white, with little cottages, visible through the bare forest, sending little ribbons of smoke from their chimneys. It looked like a painting, too perfect to be real.

Later that night, Kevin turned on Christmas music while Weslee and I made Cinnamon Applesauce ornaments for our Christmas tree that’ll come on Wednesday with our ground shipment of goods. We scooted a Rubbermaid tub up to the kitchen counter. He stood on it and helped mix the cinnamon and applesauce together. It was a little bit of a chore to keep him from eating it after adding the white glue. He kept saying, “Mmmmm, yummy!” and would try to stick the spoon in his mouth when I wasn’t looking. He especially liked the part where we rolled out the dough and cut out the circle shapes. He played with the remnants, mushing them between his fingers and throwing them all over the countertops, while I made tiny holes in the tops to loop ribbon in later when they are dry. We stuck them in a warm oven to dry and the house smelled like cinnamon rolls the rest of the night. I can’t wait to put them on the tree, which we’re decorating inexpensively with things we can make, and see how it looks. I can’t wait for Christmas to get here soon!

Nov 22- The Broken Fridge at Butler's Cottage

So, like I mentioned, Patricia clued us in about the history of 15 Wamil Way. It was built at the Butler’s cottage back in 1823. The butler would leave for work at the manor every day through the back gate in our garden. The garden used to be about 3 times larger, but the garden wall was blocking the view of the neighboring house and was cut down to its present size. So, we live in a very old home. Kevin pointed out that our cottage was built the year that Moroni visited Joseph Smith for the first time. It just made me realize how new our country is. If this house were in the United States, it would have been turned into a historical monument by now. The manor house would never have been demolished in the 1930’s because it would have been too important. But, relatively speaking, our house is pretty new in Britain. It has historical significance, but the Brits don’t really get excited about the age of a building unless it dates back at least 500 years or more. Even then, they’re more impressed if it dates back 1000 years. So, they aren’t too disturbed demolishing a 300 year old manor house.

Anyway, we discussed all of these important thoughts while lying on our futon mattresses we’re borrowing from the Airmen and Family Readiness Center and that smell curiously like a chain smoker has used them before us. When we finally emerged to get breakfast, we realized we were in for an adventure. The fridge was clammy. Not really warm, but not cold either. It was a brand new fridge (British, huge and marvelous!) and the freezer part was REALLY cold. But the milk, cheese and everything else felt like they were in a cooler where the ice was mostly melted. Even after maxing out the “coolness” on the thermometer, it still felt gross and clammy.

Even though we knew we might not get another one until Monday, we had to grocery shop for the weekend. The commissary doesn’t open again until Tuesday. While there, we ran into the guy that installed our refrigerator. He reminded us that we could call to get it repaired 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

As soon as we got back home, Kevin ran to our neighbor’s (Melvin and Cheria Sadler…they are total saints! They have helped us SO much!) to make a phone call to the repairmen. They took two hours to come, but that’s not surprising in the UK. Everything runs at a slower pace. I think Americans are the only culture on earth where everyone runs around like the world is ending tomorrow.

Anyway, long story short…they brought us a new fridge. It works great. It’s still British, huge and marvelous. We are glad to have a fridge where we can shop for at least a week at a time, and to have a freezer we can fit a frozen pizza into, which apparently is something of a novelty around here.

Nov 21- Moving In

Today we moved into our house at 15 Wamil Way, Mildenhall, Suffolk IP28 7JU. We woke up at 9am and began packing our hotel room up like crazy. I was so excited to get out of the hotel room and into our cute little home that I could barely sleep last night. I woke up at 8:30 before hearing Kevin’s alarm clock in the living room, where he’s been sleeping on the hide-a-bed. (He was so crowded in the little bed they claim is made for two…they must be talking about 2 children…that he moved out into the living room the second week in our hotel room). Anyway, at 10 am, we rushed out the door, cashier’s check in hand, to begin our life out in the world of the British.

Signing the lease agreement went fairly smoothly. Our estate agent was gone on holiday and so Jenny, the secretary, helped us. She did a fabulous job, but she didn’t know the details of the property…like where the shed key is, or why we only got one set of keys instead of two or where the gas and electric meters are so that we could read them and call the company with our details. Regardless, we signed the paperwork and walked the short distance, past beautiful St. Mary’s church, to our new home.

Weslee and I stayed at the house to begin cleaning it up while Kevin went back to the hotel room to bring all of our stuff to the house and check out. While here, we discovered that our landlord isn’t too keen on cleaning. The walls are freshly painted. The floors were mostly clean…but several of her little knick knacks were laying about and when we opened up the pantries and cupboards, there was a thick layer of dust and crumbs. Nasty!!! We spent most of that first night sweeping out the dust, washing out drawers, and wiping down shelving. The nice thing is that she doesn’t expect us to white-glove clean the house when we leave. I could NEVER leave the cupboards and drawers looking like that…but it’s at least nice to know that we won’t have to pull an all-nighter scrubbing every little smudge off of the walls like at our last place.

After a while, Kevin showed up with the rest of our stuff. Weslee and I went out to meet him and to help him unload. As I approached the front door to bring some things in…Click! The wind blew the self-locking door shut. I could see my keys…the only set of keys…laying peacefully on the kitchen countertop. We had been in our house less than 2 hours and already we were locked out in the freezing cold.

At this point, I began to panic because we were expecting the military to deliver all of our appliances any time this afternoon and they were expecting our house to be unlocked. If they couldn’t deliver our household appliances today, we’d have to wait until at least Monday, if not later. I decided to return to the estate agent’s office to see if anyone had any more keys. As I walked the 5 minutes to their office, I thought of how much worse the situation could have been. Weslee could have been locked inside. I could just picture him standing at the door screaming and having no way to reach him. I counted my blessings even as I continued to panic.

When I got to the office, they tried every phone number they had to reach the landlord…with no luck. I was wringing my hands. My husband and son were stuck out in the cold or at best, jammed in the front seat of the car with all of our stuff. It wasn’t a situation that would accommodate them for any length of time.

Just then, Jenny the secretary remembered that our landlord had left a key with her friend who did house repairs. His wife, Angela, worked just across the street at a travel agency. As luck would have it, Angela was there and was able to help us as soon as her coworker got back from lunch.

Kevin was a total gentleman and had me wait in the car with our sleepy boy on my lap while he braved the cold for our 20 minute wait. It seemed like forever. The car was warm, but I kept looking out the window at my husband in his thin hoodie pulled up over his ears, arms pulled back into the sleeves trying to look like he didn’t mind the frosty wind much. He finally climbed on top of our shed where the neighbor’s garden wall blocked most of the wind.

Angela finally showed up. We finally got inside our house again. And life went on. We opened a letter from our landlord, Patricia, welcoming us to our new home and telling us the history of the place. And, it held the long lost shed key that poor Jenny didn’t know about earlier. We figured out how to light the boiler and heat the house. The military showed up with our appliances and were able to install them all. Life settled down and we cooked dinner.

Nov 20th- Cambridge

With all of my whining and complaining yesterday, I didn’t take the time to talk about our trip to Cambridge yesterday. We took a trip with “John’s Journeys”…another in a long line of local bus trips offered by the base. I had thought the trip was going to be a guided tour of Cambridge…so I didn’t bother to study up on Cambridge before we went. I figured I’d probably study all of the wrong sites and I’d learn more if I just went and listened. Instead, we boarded the bus (actually, it was more like a van) to find out that this was a “go and do your own thing” trip.

With nothing more than a rough printed copy of Cambridge to work with, we headed off toward the university campus and the more historic sites of Cambridge (John at least pointed us in that direction). And, this turned out to be one of my favorite adventures so far. We walked along the streets until we saw something interesting. We stopped in a local grocery store, Sainsbury’s, to buy some milk chocolate digestive crackers (which we all snarfed right down). We fed the ducks along the river Cam at King’s college. Wes particularly enjoyed that part! We stayed there for at least half an hour and fed them Cheese-it crackers.

We pretty much saw all of the courtyards of all of the different colleges that are part of Cambridge University. Cambridge University isn’t laid out the way an American University is. It is a conglomeration of smaller “colleges” that dot the entire city. At first, we thought we were seeing a bunch of smaller city colleges or high schools. We kept looking for something that said CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY, but only saw it once, written on an obscure door in an alleyway stating that that particular door went to the Cambridge University Anthropology society. It wasn’t until later that we discovered that all of the little colleges (Trinity College, Christ’s College, St. John’s College and King’s College) were all a part of one big university. I don’t know why it continually surprises me to learn that the British do things differently. You’d think I’d come to expect it now. But, I’m still floored every time my assumptions are wrong.

While out on our adventures, we were privileged to see King’s College Church. It was absolutely huge. We decided not to go in at that particular time, mainly because they were charging 5 pounds per person, and we didn’t have that many pounds on us. We decided to go and feed the ducks behind the church instead. I think we ended up having more fun doing that. Weslee was tired of sitting still in his stroller by that time anyway.

I will say that while Cambridge was absolutely bustling with college students, riding bikes and walking, and the city is alive with things to do and see…the huge cathedrals and old stone churches simply can’t compare with the charm of the small town parish churches around Mildenhall. The old stone churches in Cambridge are impossibly cramped between malls and shopping centers, their headstones in their cemeteries crowded around their foundations like so many sentries. Many of them are closed to visitors. The warmth and familiarity that is present in so many of the country churches vanishes in such places. It was impossible to capture any good photos of them from the tight alleyways that surrounded their grounds. Occasionally I’d snap a tall stone tower reaching for the blue sky out of the darkness…but I was never able to capture any real charm or majesty from any of those churches.

But when it was all said and done, we walked around almost every nook and cranny of the historic part of Cambridge. We even stopped in “Christ’s Pieces” park at the heart of it all and let Weslee play for a while. It was a nice, leisurely visit. We’ll come back and tour it all…but for today, we enjoyed strolling and looking. We’re glad we got to go.