Last week I looked through our cards of City Walks With Kids and picked out a few and then Richard read through them and chose one for a Saturday outing.  He doesn’t get to see as many museums because he has that inconvenient obligation we call employment, so he picked the Museum of London card, which also suggested Smiths of Smithfields for lunch, Smithfields meat market, a stop by the old Roman London city wall, and the memorial wall at Postman’s Park.  (The cards are self-guided walks that usually include a restaurant, landmarks and museums or parks and are all in a small enough area for kids to walk. I highly recommend them if you live near New York, San Francisco, Paris, Toronto or Washington D.C.) 

We walked through Smithfields, the only working meat market in London, but it was already closed. I was so confused why it would be closed on a Saturday, I mean the place was completely shut down.  But my friend Nimmi told me that it was just already closed for the day.  It opens at 5:00AM and is all finished up around 9:00AM.  I’m disappointed we missed it, we’ll have to go back and see, it sounds kind of cool.  

From there we walked to the Museum of London. It was a really fun museum- really kid friendly.  They had little booklets for the kids to answer questions and play a sort of “I Spy” through various exhibits.  Cameron and Eli picked one for older kids so we split up, and I took the littles to a different exhibit with a different activity booklet.   

I only took a few photos (with my phone) because sometimes carrying my camera can be such a pain, and taking photos can be so distracting, and because most of the exhibits don’t allow photography.  As usual we only saw a small part of the museum, but it was one of my favorites so far. 

We left the museum and walked around the remains of the Roman city wall.  It was built around the city of London in approximately 200AD and was used for over 1,000 years.  There are just a few remaining areas of wall, including this one just outside the Museum of London. 

You can read about the London Wall here. I thought it was really interesting. 

From there we walked to Postman’s Park, where we had promised the kids they could play football.  The park wasn’t fit for football games, but we did get to see the memorial wall, which turned out to be my favorite part of the day.  I’m going to write a lot about it- because I liked it so much. 

Part of what made this such a moving experience for me was that we happened to be at the park at the same time as a guided walking tour.  So while Richard corralled kids, I selfishly piggy-backed on the group and listened to the tour guide give the history behind this wall.  

George Frederic Watts was a Victorian artist who had an idea for the celebration of Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee, and suggested the building of a wall to commemorate heroes who died giving their lives to save another.  He first suggested the idea in 1887, but his dream wasn’t realized until 1900.  

The idea for the memorial came at a time where interest in the lives of the British poor was growing, and the media was also advocating for more awareness and need for social change.  Watts believed that art was a powerful force for such change, and he also believed in celebrating role models to help improve character among British citizens.  One story in particular inspired the public and gave momentum to Watt’s dream, and that was the story of Alice Ayers. 

Alice lived with her sister and brother-in-law in Southwark, and shared a room with her three nieces.  The story is told that one night a fire broke out in the paint shop beneath the home, and Alice acted quickly to save the lives of the three little girls. (Ages 5,4 and 3.) She brought one of her nieces to the window and released her to the crowd below, who shouted at Alice to jump as well.  But she went back, and returned to the window with a second little girl, throwing her to the crowd below as well. Again the crowd begged Alice to jump, but she went back for the last of her nieces, lowering her down the crowd once more.  Then at last she attempted to climb out the window, but being overcome by fumes passed out, and fell limply to the ground beneath.  She died two days later in hospital.  

She became wildly popular and recognized as a hero and was one of the first names to be inscribed on Watt’s wall. 

 (I haven’t seen the movie Closer, but the tour guide said that there were scenes filmed at this spot, and Alice Ayers became the fabricated identity of the character played by Natalie Portman.) 

The Memorial to Heroic Self Sacrifice was designed with 120 tiles.  Watts died in 1904, leaving the project to his wife, who eventually lost interest and passed it along to the local Diocese.  But by 1931 it had been abandoned altogether, with only 53 tiles inscribed.  For over 78 years no new names were added to the memorial wall.  

In 2009 at long last another tablet was added. It was in memory of Leigh Pitt, a 30 year old man who jumped into a canal to save a nine year old boy.  Some of Pitt’s colleagues and his fiance worked together to get the Diocese to add a plaque to honor him.  

I found this wall to be so inspiring.  There is an app  now that details the stories of each of the individuals who are celebrated here and I look forward to reading more about them.  Great love hath no man…

We caught the DLR and stopped at Mudchute Park to fulfill our post-museum park promise and let the boys play football. 

These bridge arch supports had so much photographic potential.  But I kept getting photo-bombed. And to be real, it was one of those things that I imaged so much cooler than it really turned out. 

A couple Saturdays ago it was a gorgeous day and we were all itching to be outdoors.  We packed a picnic and took a bus to a place a woman on the train had told me about.  It still surprises me the kinds of green spaces you can find in the middle of the city.  This place is called Oxleas Wood, and even though most of the trees are winter-bare, it was really pretty and green.  

I read that these woods have existed for 8,000 years.  They are one of few remaining areas of ancient deciduous forest in this part of the city.  But like I said, I’m really grateful that any areas of woods still exist at all.  It reminds me of Virginia, where we could walk to the end of our street and be in the woods.  

Severndroog Castle isn’t actually a castle. It is a “folly”, which is “a building constructed primarily for decoration.”  The term became popular because such structures were a little silly or excessive, they were more or less overdone garden ornaments.  

In the case of Severndroog Castle, it was built as a memorial to the husband of Lady James of Eltham, in 1783.  It did seem to serve some practical purpose because it sits atop a hill and from it’s rooftop you can see for miles around Greenwich and Southeast London.  

We found a grassy place to eat our lunch and let Cameron and Eli play football for a bit.  Then we walked and explored and the kids invented all kinds of imaginary tales with sticks and tree stumps and bark and leaves…

Then we sleepily rode the bus home in the late afternoon sunshine.  It was perfectly lovely and no one wet their pants.  

Today is International Women’s Day. I’d never heard of this day until recently, and from what I understand, it is meant to “inspire women and celebrate achievements.”   I wanted to write about someone famous and inspiring, but I’m not really qualified.  So I decided to write about the women I know.  

My sister Lori sent me a quote by George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans), that I found relevant to my thoughts for today.  

“There are few prophets in the world; few sublimely beautiful women; few heroes.  I can’t afford to give all my love and reverence to such rarities: I want a great deal of those feelings for my every day fellow-[wo]men, especially for the few in the foreground of the great multitude, whose faces I know, whose hands I touch.”  

I’m excited to teach my kids, particularly Miriam, about remarkable women from history.  I want her to be inspired by Joan of Arc, Marie Curie and Amelia Earhart.  But I also want Miriam to know that she doesn’t have to change the world to be a remarkable woman.  She is surrounded by inspiring women, whose stories and examples are worth celebrating today, and every day.  

I asked five women, all from different countries and now embracing life in London, all mothers I’ve met at my kids’ school,

“What difficulties have you overcome in your life, professionally, socially, or personally, so that you could accomplish your goals and make a good life for yourself?” 

“I’ve overcome a personal difficulty by making the decision to move from my home in Ireland, to London with my family. 
The main difficulty I had was the fear of change and what it would bring, not having a support network and starting from scratch was a scary thought.  I can now say that I am happy I made the decision.  
My partner is secure in his job, my daughter is happy in school and I have recently gone back to study myself.  
Overall I feel it was the best decision and I’m glad I overcame my fear of change.” 

“One of my hobbies is reading and some of my friends will argue that I am addicted to books. However, it wasn’t always that way. As a child I encountered considerable difficulties learning to read. I left primary school unable to read. As a child I felt like nobody at primary school cared about me because I was too stupid and was an illiterate migrant child. Ironically it was my maths teacher in secondary school that taught me how to read. I have always been good in maths but was struggling with my word problems.  She met me twice a week for a year after school. She was so great! Not only she taught me how to read but also empowered me.  I was 14 when I read Vipère au Poing, my first book. I had a great sense of achievement not only in finishing the book but in being about to connect with the hero. Because Miss Turpin was in my school to cover maternity leave, she left after a year. Before leaving she offered me box full of books.  Miss Turpin was such a great person! I owe her so much. She was always patient with me and always took the time to listen to me. Much more than teaching me to read, she taught me that I was capable of great achievements with hard work and lots of dedication. She helped me build my confidence in tackling any challenges in every area of my life. I met Miss Turpin almost 20 years ago and ever since then I believed in myself. I never saw Miss Turpin again but I have always kept her in my memories and my heart.”

“In southeast Asia, it is a massive vibrant community who thrive on getting together to eat and drink. Any time out of work involves hanging out with friends. With Singapore being so small, there is always an element of six degrees of separation where everyone kind of knew each other. When we moved to London in 2007 from southeast Asia, it was difficult to adapt as we had no family and few friends here. I found it a struggle to understand why you had organise to meet up with friends sometimes 6 weeks in advance and not on a whim, which is what I was used to. It took some time to fathom and adjust my mindset.  Once I started meeting people, i managed to develop friendships in different circles with people who were like minded. This not only helped with the loneliness I initially faced when we moved here but broadened our circle of friends such that there’s always someone to catch up with or talk to – and for that I am very grateful.” 

 “In my previous career I was able to accomplish all that I intended too, although not without a struggle. As a Legal Account Manager it took me to prove myself as a woman in a male dominant environment and not only that, a young black woman. I worked in a position surrounded by young white men. I would often be judged and had to prove myself by not only meeting targets but exceeding them. In my first few years I would see people with less experience go up the ladder at a much faster rate and they would get the best clients. I managed to turn things round by taking the least liked client and making them into one of the most profitable. I am proud of the achievements that I made in my career. When I left my position to have my baby, I was the highest earning Account Manager, managing the largest team in my company. This was achieved by not allowing those people who judged me as a young black woman to influence me, instead I chose to prove what I was able to achieve and gain respect from my peers in doing so. 

Being successful in my career was always so important to me but now after having my son, the drive I once had had dimmed slightly. I now use that drive I used to have for work in other areas of my life. Having a child gives you so much perspective. It changes you so much and all of a sudden what used to be so important is now hardly thought about.”

“I never define clear goals, it is more aspirational- it has to do with a tendency I feel to move forward.  I always want to know more, and to do better the things I do.  That is why I am here.  

I wanted to do research on museums. I started my PhD in Romania, but social sciences are not so developed there.  My husband and I started our degrees together, but we decided to do it at two separate universities. The power relations in the family, in every family, conflict with the work relations.  It is always good to have independence. I see work as a kind of freedom. 

Kids. Every time I have had a child, money and prosperity came to me.  It is not an easy thing to do to have kids and work.  I must confess I have moments where I can not cope.  But kids give you wisdom.  For me it has been okay to have kids and to do my PhD at the same time.  I don’t think it is fair for women to be obliged to stay home if the family can not afford to pay for childcare. I think we are living in a world with too much pressure and too much competition.  I think we should all work less, earn less, and spend less.”  

It didn’t seem fair to ask women to open their hearts if I wasn’t willing to do the same. 

“I’ve realized in my life that many of the difficulties I face and overcome, are my own insecurities.  They perpetually get in the way of my confidence, my willingness to try new things, my ability to make friends and my courage to be myself.  I look too young. I have too many children.  I’m not intelligent enough.  I have too much.  I have too little.  I’m too religious. I’m narrow minded.  

Moving to London has given me the opportunity to sink or swim.  Daily I make a choice to stay isolated and protect myself from the [perceived] judgement of the world, or to live honestly and openly and allow myself to see, and really be seen.”  

I believe that in sharing our stories we find that our ability to relate to each other spans cities, continents and cultures.  We are all women. We have more in common than we think.  We have so much to offer, to the world and to each other.  

I’m grateful for inspiring women in my life, those I know up close and those I know from a distance.  I’m grateful to the brave women who were willing to share their experiences for this post, it takes courage and vulnerability.  Like Evans – let’s not reserve our reverence for the women who changed the world only, but let’s give our love freely to those whose faces we know.  

The school year here somewhat resembles a year-round schedule.  There are three terms, with two weeks of holiday between terms, six weeks in the summer, and then one week holiday breaks at each half-term.  We were visiting Paris during the kids first half-term break last October, so I had grand plans for what we would do since we would be in town for this half-term. Then we had a leak and workmen came to repair it and we had to stay home Wednesday through Friday.  But Tuesday (which happened to be my birthday) we were able to go to the Imperial War Museum. 

It wasn’t a particularly warm day, but it was sunshine and blue sky, which was lovely.  We walked to the bus stop and were lucky to catch the bus we needed and rode it all the way to the museum.  One thing I love about the location of our house is that it’s really close to several different bus routes, which means that more often than not we can take just one bus to our destination rather than having to ride a bus to one place, and then switch to a different bus.  In fact, many times we have more than one option.  

The museum opens at 10:00 and we arrived at about 10:30 and practically had the place to ourselves.  This is an important note to myself for the future, get to museums as close to opening time as possible. The museums in London are almost always busy, especially in the afternoons. 

They were having an art activity for kids, since it was half-term. There is an exhibit going on right now called “Truth and Memories” and it is various artistic depictions of war, particularly WWI and WWII.  Most of the artwork was done by artists who were called out of regular military service to paint/photograph/sketch the history of the war.  The kids were told to pick their favorite piece from the exhibit and do a simplistic replication, which was then copied onto foam board and made into an ink press. 

After they finished their ink presses we went to the cafe and ate some snacks.  Then we did some museum exploring. 

Sometime in junior high school I wrote a report about the Enola Gay.  It was the airplane that dropped “Little Boy” on the city of Hiroshima.  I remember even as a tween having a pit in my stomach as I imagined the horror of that mission, that bomb, that decimated city.  Now as an adult it still makes me feel slightly ill what humans are capable of doing to other humans.   American physicist J Robert Oppenheimer, who worked on the bomb, shared his memory of watching the first test. 

“We knew the world would not be the same.  A few people laughed, a few people cried, most people were silent. I remembered the line from the Hindu scripture, the Bhagavad-Gita: ‘Now, I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.’
 I supposed we all thought that one way or another.” 

I want to share a couple other thoughtful quotes about the bomb, that were posted at the exhibit. 

“The bomb has been deliberately placed as close to the center of the building as possible. For me it is the ultimate symbol not only of political power and creative technological development, but also of absolute fear and horror.” 
 – Roger Tolson, curator

“The development and first use of the bomb is the tipping point of the twentieth century.  Along with the Holocaust, it showed exactly what humanity was capable of.” 
– Samantha Heywood, historian

A war museum is a fun place for kids, and that was okay with me.  But it was a bit depressing for me.  The museum is divided up into four floors, WWI, WWII, Post-1945 and then a floor dedicated to the Holocaust.  We made it through the first floor and saw the WWI exhibit.  I learned that when WWI began in 1914 no one expected it to last past Christmas. But new weaponry and warfare completely changed the way war was waged and caught everyone off guard.  I can’t do the explanation justice, but I was completely struck with the disturbing nature of war in that context. Men shooting at each other with guns and cannons and grenades, for a purpose that is completely intangible to them.  It just really unnerved me that the men/women who do all the fighting, suffering, dying and their families who suffer as well, aren’t the people at all who make the decisions about going to war.  They are just there, because their country has asked them to be, and they may or may not feel very confident in their cause. War is just really so, so awful. 

After we finished the WWI exhibit we went upstairs and didn’t make it all the way through the WWII floor, but we did see an exhibit about a British family of TEN and what life was like for them during the war.  The older daughters were married and had babies of their own, the older boys went off to fight, and the younger girls stayed back and found work and purpose in the war effort at home.  It talked about rationing, bombing raids and other ways the war affected daily life.  

Our bishop was a young boy in London during WWII.  He has told us, Richard in particular, many stories about what life was like.  I’ll save those for another blog post- but he was evacuated from the city twice (children in London were sent to the countryside for safety), had to spend hours in a wet and cold Anderson shelter, and had to ration just like everyone else.   

After finishing up the Allpress Family exhibit we wandered around and looked at a few more things before calling it a day.  I know I keep saying this, but I’m sure the older boys and I will go back to see more of the museum but Mim and Simon were spent. 

We made our obligatory post-museum park stop, then bought some crisps and took a sunny, warm, sleepy bus ride home.  

I feel like a big girl today.  It started with ordering a new vacuum bag online.  I’m not sure why I’m so impressed when I accomplish a task that requires the slightest bit of effort above and beyond opening a cupboard or going to a store.  I actually had to read the manual.  Our hoover wasn’t hoovering anymore.  Our “hoover” is actually a Miele, but here in the UK, Hoover has done what Kleenex has done back home in the states.  The brand name has become the name of the product itself.  But even better than Kleenex, Hoover is a pronoun, a noun, AND a verb. Well played Hoover.   I’m also so grateful for Amazon Prime, because the anticipation I am feeling over having a new bag, and a vacuum with some real gumption is too much for more than 24 hours.  (Have I mentioned that Amazon Prime gets you free ONE-DAY shipping ’round here?)

Then I finished one last online CEU course so I can renew my dental hygiene license this month.  It was a three credit course and I did it in 45 minutes.  Can’t beat that kind of efficiency, and now I will remind you all that using topical fluoride dentifrices and varnishes will [statistically] significantly reduce your risk of dental caries. (30-70% Jenkins et al, 1985. ) Also, having a professional license makes me feel like a real grown-up. Especially the part where I have to pay a lot of money.

I texted Richard and reminded him that our car has its third flat tire in as many months and he asked me to take care of it. Wha? I do my best to defy gender stereotypes, but flat tires? No thanks.  But since I do my best to defy gender stereotypes I decided to have a go at it.  Mind you, our car is a rental so fixing the flat tire consists of making a phone call to the rental company who sends someone to fix the tire. HA! (Insert emoticon with squinchy eyes and protruded tongue.) 

So I made the phone call and the man showed up.  He called me from outside my house and his accent was thick. I inferred that he wanted me to come out to the car so I threw on my coat and Simon put on some shoes and out we went. 

“You’ve got a puncher,” 
“Excuse me?”
“A puncher.”  
(That must be what the British call a flat tire.)
“A flat tire?”
“Yeah. A slow leaking puncher.”  
He hands me a paper to sign, whereupon I see the words. 
Slow leak puncture.
Ah. Right. 
“It’s a high car?”
“Um…. I don’t know…”
“A HIGH car?!” 
“Oh! A hire car. Yes.”  (Rental car.) 

He said he would inflate the tire so I could drive the car to the repair shop, but I panicked a bit because I needed to get to the kid’s school in time to pick them up.  He reassured me I would be fine. At least I think that is what he said. He used a clever gadget that connected to the car battery to pump up the tire while I grabbed shoes for myself and coat for Simon.  Then we drove the car to the tire place and dropped it off.  This is the part where I felt like a big girl.  

I knew exactly where the tire place was. I knew that we could catch the DLR at Greenwich, just a few hundred feet from the tire place and take it one stop to Deptford Bridge, which was just a quick walk from the kids school.  We did exactly that and got there just in time,  It felt like home.  I felt like I knew what I was doing.  And it felt good! Even Simon was impressed when we walked past his Nursery and he realized we had gone from the tire place to the school in the blink of an eye. It was stress-free and I’m quite proud.  

Then we came home from school and I resumed 100 loads of laundry and made Macaroni and Cheese from scratch with Snickerdoodles for dessert.  I haven’t been this productive since I had a real job.  

G’night folks.  

This last week I was so sick.  I think I was about nine different kinds of sick.  It included a bad cough, sore throat, body aches, chills, a migraine that involved numbness, vomiting and a “floaters” and a trip to A&E (the ER), then digestive illness and some stress related maladies that occasional come and take up residence in my body.  I spent most of the week in bed and medicated.  Fortunately Richard was able to be really flexible with his work schedule and did most of the school drop-offs and pick-ups and all the other fun parenting responsibilities.  But this morning he left for his church meetings, and I was back on my own.  

Still a little bit short on energy, and severely short on patience, I finally gave up.  I was so tired of the kids bickering and whining that I said 

“Fine.  You’re on your own.  If you want to go to church then you better get yourselves dressed.  If you don’t want to go, fine.”  

Then I plopped right down in the black chair, that was conveniently located in the sunniest part of the house and I watched.  Cameron realized I was completely serious and he took charge.  He ordered the kids around and took a shower and dressed himself.  Miriam dressed herself.  Simon even dressed himself.  I knew Eli would be the wild card, but miraculously by 9:47 he was ready to go.  I supposed I had no choice but to load up the car and drive them to church. (A little bit disappointed they had pulled it off…)  We went without me brushing Miriam’s hair, without writing Eli’s primary talk, and with Eli hopping on one foot because he said his shoes were too small. (But only on the left foot.) 

Today was Fast Sunday, which means that members of the congregation stand at the pulpit and share their feelings about the gospel.  In our ward in Kuna, where there were 150 children, it got to be a problem on these Sundays because the children would start lining up at the pulpit and the line would go all across the stand and down the steps into the congregation.  With some direction from ward leadership, Richard and I taught our kids that they were always welcome to share their testimonies at home or in primary, but to save time in the testimony meeting for adults who would like to participate.  

So today when Miriam came up to me (looking quite disheveled) and asked if kids were allowed to bear their testimony I wasn’t quite sure how to respond.  Our ward is small enough here that there are often periods of silence, and there are also so few children that it is extremely rare to see a child at the pulpit.  I asked her what she wanted to say and she whispered a few things about Jesus. I deferred to Richard, and seeing that she was quite serious we decided to let her go ahead.  

She walked up to the pulpit, with her messy blonde head, nervous but determined, and shared the thoughts that were on her mind. This is what she said, as best I can recall. 

“I want to bear my testimony. I know the church is true. I know that Jesus loves us and cares about us.  I know that he died for us to go back to Heaven.  Jesus gave us the scriptures and the gospel. Sometimes my mom is sick and stays in bed a lot.  My dad makes the food and we take care of her.  I love my mom and dad and I know they love me.  They teach me good things like to love people no matter what.  I do things that they like, and they do things that I like.  I know the gospel is true. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”

She spoke slowly, clearly, deliberately.  My world seemed to stop while I listened to her, and I could feel my own heart pounding. The moment she finished there was an audible sigh of adoration from the congregation. (As I said, children are a novelty.)  I felt slightly embarrassed about being labeled an invalid, but mostly I was just completely full of love for her.  She is a strong little girl, and I am so grateful for that.  She will do the world good.  

I’m really not that great at recognizing God’s hand in my life.  It’s not that I don’t feel gratitude, it’s just that I think my pride prevents me from giving God the credit for all my blessings and even/especially these little moments.  But I thought about how I was completely willing to skip church today.  When we got to church I told Richard I was surprised we were there at all.  But we were.  And it was a Sunday I’ll never forget.  Something bigger than I am, and bigger than Mim’s sweet soul, lit a fire inside her that gave her the idea and the courage to stand up and share.  And if that’s not a tender mercy, I’m even worse than I thought at understanding them.  

I have been fortunate in my life to not have had many occasions for attending funerals. I can probably count on one hand the number of funerals I’ve been to.  Yesterday Richard and I attended the funeral of Kim Barnes, a new friend to us, a member of our ward here in London. 

Despite living with illness and disabilities, Kim’s death still came as a shock to me.  I knew she had been in the hospital, and unfortunately I had procrastinated taking the kids to see her, and upon learning that she had passed away, my grief was all the more exquisite at the idea that I would not be able to tell her, in this life, how much I appreciated and admired her kindness.

Kim was in the primary at church, which meant she devoted a lot of time to planning, preparing and doing things for my children.  The primary here is small, on a good Sunday there might be 12 children at church, so Kim knew them all individually and cared for them.  Instead of the small primary discouraging her from working hard to make positive experiences for the kids, I think it encouraged her.

Aside from my personal gratitude for Kim’s efforts and kindness, I also admired her for her loyalty, optimism and selfless service.  It is my nature to avoid anything that can’t be done with convenience, but because of Kim’s health problems, nothing was convenient for her, and yet she was always involved.  The photo I posted of Kim was on Remembrance Day, this last fall when the LDS Catford Ward was asked to present a wreath at the Greenwich Remembrance Day Ceremony.  Kim had volunteered to be involved and I just asked if I could come along. 

Kim’s brother Jon wrote the Eulogy for her funeral, but asked that someone else read it.  He told the story of a time when he teased his sister that what she needed was a full-body transplant; to which Kim responded that her disabilities had made her into the person that she was.  Jon went on to say that even though he loved her dearly, he believed her to be so sincere in that remark, that he wouldn’t change her broken body even if he could.

I appreciated that story because I’m coming to a belief that in some part, perhaps in great part, the goodness we each possess comes not in spite of our difficulties, but because of them.  This simple belief is often, for me, the pathway to forgiveness and gratitude.  My friend Lindsey recently wrote on her blog about how her daughter’s disabilities bring out the best in people around her, and Lindsey feels so grateful for the chance to see unselfishness and charity offered to her sweet little girl. 

I think funerals can be sacred events.  There is so much love, comfort, and empathy in those rooms.  I also believe that we are sanctified by our grief, and when we grieve together we love more deeply.

I’m grateful for Kim’s example in my life, I’m grateful we moved here when we did so that I could have the chance to know her, and my kids could know her as well.  I’m grateful I could attend her funeral and learn a bit more about her and her brave mortal experience.  

My friend Keely texted me last week to tell me about a family activity the British Museum was having on Saturday called an Egyptian Photo Booth.  (She obviously knows of Eli’s obsession with all things Egyptian.)  Both Richard and I were getting a little stir crazy after a month of Saturday’s at home so we jumped on the chance to get out, and… the British Museum! 

We didn’t quite understand what exactly it was all about until we got there, and then we wished we would have had Eli wear his Pharaoh costume, but we still had fun making these comics. 

After the photo booth we ate lunch in the family dining area.  Keely told me about this too- and it’s brilliant.  They have taken an old part of the museum and turned it into a locker room/ indoor picnic area.  It’s so practical and so family friendly, and yet you still feel like you’re in a really cool old building.  Museum cafes are great for a quick snack when I’m alone or with Simon, but feeding the whole family at a museum cafe can be expensive, crowded and offer limited kid-friendly options.  It was really quiet in this room, and it was also really nice to put all our coats and our lunch in the locker.

After lunch we went back upstairs and made our way through the Egyptian and Greek exhibits.  As usual, Eli was engrossed, Cameron was mildly amused and Miriam and Simon were quickly bored.  We made the best of it, and I took some photos of a few of my favorite artifacts.  

This is the Nereid Monument, a Lykian tomb from south-west Turkey, dated 380 B.C. 

Sometimes when I’m at these museums I start to feel overwhelmed.  I read a caption about Lykian culture and my mind is completely blank. What/who/where was Lycia? (I only know how to spell that because I looked it up.)  This world is so expansive.  It’s history so infinte. And my knowledge so infinitesimally small.  I enjoy learning little bits here and there, but I also feel a great conflict.  It’s a battle between an insatiable hunger to learn more and a complete discouragement and inadequacy that fosters ambivalence.  

So that about sums up my museum experiences, and many other of my experiences here in London and in my life in general.  Tempering the discouragement with enthusiasm, and shedding inadequacy for optimism and gratitude.  

By this point Miriam and SImon were completely spent, so Richard took them back down to the locker room and I took Cameron and Eli upstairs just to do a quick walk-through of the mummies. 

After we left the museum on our way back to the tube station we passed a park. I always feel like a park is the least I can offer Simon (and all the kids, really) after dragging him through a museum for three hours.  

January is notorious with accountants worldwide for the beginning of the most arduous weeks of the calendar year from a professional standpoint.  We have known many a busy season in our home- many busy seasons that have involved extensive travel and Saturday work-days.  Fortunately none of Richard’s busy seasons have lived up to the horror stories we have heard and continue to hear, but make no mistake, we know the busy season.  

This year I decided to take January easy.  I gave myself a pass to take a break from tourism and just spend the cold and dreary days at home reading, resting and taking on most parental responsibilities while Richard work work worked.  We made no plans for our weekends and we just laid low. 

Richard and I both braced ourselves for his busy season, for late nights and long Saturdays.  And then they never came.  One week Richard was feeling worn out and we laughed about it, because he said that the lack of intensity meant there was no adrenaline kick-in that usually helps him get through this time of year. He has had busy days for sure, but we’ve counted our blessings that by and large he has been able to meet his responsibilities in his regular work week.  And his travel, a quick trip to Basel and a delightful jaunt in Barcelona, were nothing to complain about.  

[ Somewhat related anecdote: Last week, I signed up for a continuing education class so that I would be able to renew my hygiene license in Idaho.  I made arrangements for all the kids, and my friend Nicole planned to pick up Simon from school.  At a break during my course (which lasted all day) I noticed I had missed two calls from Simon’s school so I texted Richard and asked him to call the school.  Simon ended up vomiting at school, and on the bus with Nicole, but Richard was able to leave work and go pick him up and take him home.  It was so frustrating to me that the ONE DAY I make myself unavailable is the day that my child pukes at school. But it was such a relief that Richard was able to step in.  Richard’s work experience here has been so much less demanding than it was back in the states and I think we are both going to miss that quite a bit when we return.]

In any case, January turned out to be a dull and uneventful month for the Birds across the pond.  And I’m considering that a success!  

A few January photos from my phone that didn’t make it onto Instagram:

Back in the fall when I was still comfortably walking home from the school in a t-shirt, my friend Nicole told me that London gets really cold in the winter.  Bone-chilling cold, she said.  This made no sense to me at all, especially because Nicole is from Wisconsin.  I chalked it up to hyperbole and counted my blessings that London is a “temperate oceanic climate” with mild winters.  

With January behind me, I want to give Nicole her credit, and apologize for underestimating her experience.  London is cold.  Both Richard and I have had days this winter where we just could not get warm; a bath or shower would be required to reach the level of cold, we felt as it were, in our bones.  This baffled me, because we come from Idaho, where temperatures are consistently below freezing.  Temperatures in London rarely get below freezing, or subzero if you’re speaking in Celsius.  So why? Why are we so cold all the time?  

I’ve come up with a few satisfactory answers to that question, but ultimately I think it is related to lifestyle. 

One is that the humidity makes it feel colder.  Which I think is true, and I read various scientific explanations for that but it comes down to a damp cold being more chilly than a dry cold. 

Another reason is that London is so cloudy and foggy.  Which is true, London is cloudy nearly every single day.  But the funny thing about London, is that it is also sunny nearly every single day.  The sunshine is often short-lived and in a large city surrounded by tall buildings it is sometimes to difficult to access it’s rays, but I’ve paid particular attention and London has offered me more sun in January than Boise ever does.  (Inversion. Am I right?) The days are also very short in London in the winter, which probably also contributes to the chill.  

Additionally, London is cold because the buildings are old, and often poorly insulated.  I can personally vouch for this. Our house is old, with original windows, and I can literally feel the cold air coming through the glass.  I love our old windows, they are full of charm, but they make it very difficult to keep the house warm.  Also, our house is heated via radiators, that don’t BLOW air, they just get hot, and the heat emanates into the room, This works fine in small rooms, but downstairs in our kitchen-dining area, the kids all bring their blankets to breakfast because it is SO cold.  When at home,  you will usually find me wearing a puffy vest or scarf or fleece or blanket or all of the above.  The same is true in the kid’s school. It is a really old building and the kids are required to wear their fleece/jumper in the winter. 

So combining all of the aforementioned reasons, with the following comparison, I’ve concluded why I am so cold in London. 

In Boise, when the outdoor temperature is 30° F, this is what I do.  I put on a jacket or coat.  I go into my garage and get into my car, which is a little chilly but only takes a few  minutes to warm up.  I drive my kids to their school, where I remain comfortably seated in my warm car while they run into the playground.  I drive home, get out of my car in my garage and walk into my house, having never actually had to go outside.  When I need to run an errand, I repeat the process, spending approximately 38 seconds walking from my warm car that I’ve parked in the parking lot, into the grocery store/office/home I’ve driven to.  

In London, when the outdoor temperature is -1° C (30° F), this is what I do.  I put a coat and gloves and a scarf and a hat on myself and my four children.  We walk out the door and walk eight minutes to the bus stop.  We wait at the bus stop for 2-5 minutes.  We get in the bus (warm! yay!) for about 10 minutes.  We get off the bus and walk five minutes to the school. We wait outside in the schoolyard for five minutes until the children line up and the teachers escort them into the building.  Then I walk home, about a 20 minute walk.  In the last hour, I’ve spent 50 of the 60 minutes, outside.  Then if I have any errands to run, it involves a similar process, either walking to the destination, or walking and waiting outside for buses and trains.  I spend a lot of time outside.  

I LOVE this about London. I love spending so much time outside.  But it gets COLD.  And then when I come home into my drafty house, it is really hard to get warm.  

For that reason, I am quite ready for spring.  Bring back that “temperate oceanic climate” please.