On Wednesday we met up with our American friends, the Farmer family, at the Greenwich park playground.  We live near the southwest corner of the park and the playground is on the north end of the park so we took a bus this time.  But I told the kids we were going to walk home, back down through the park.  

In the center of the park is the Royal Observatory which is the location of the Prime Meridian. But it sits on top of the highest hill in the park and I figured that was best left for a day when Richard could enjoy it with us. 

The park is beautiful.  We saw a flower garden and a gazebo but we still have yet to see the deer reserve and rose garden.  So much to explore!  

By the time we got home we were all thoroughly exhausted.  We licked ice lollies and lazed around and took naps and then went to dinner at Bucket Mouth because Richard had to work late.  I’ll write about Bucket Mouth another day.  

Nursery: For children who are 3 years of age when school begins.  Nursery is comparable to a first year of preschool except it is government funded.  Most or many primary schools (think elementary school) have a nursery too, but there are also a lot of private nurseries/daycares.  The government sponsors 15 hours of nursery each week for children who are three years old.  Some schools are flexible about which hours your child can attend, but at Lucas Vale it is run in AM/PM shifts. I decided to put Simon in the morning shift at Lucas Vale so he will attend school from 8:45-11:45 every day.  He also has to wear a school uniform.  I’ll drop off all four kids at school every morning. ! 

Reception: For children who are 4 years of age when school begins.  At first I thought Reception was comparable to Kindergarten, but it’s really just a full-time preschool.  It focuses on imaginary play and less structured curriculum and learning.  Miriam will be in reception, which means that when we come back she will in fact be in the same grade/level as she would have been if we had stayed.  Reception is a full school day, 8:45-3:45.  Miriam doesn’t start school until the end of September and the first week is just half days.  They also give children the option to stay on half days for a longer transition period if the full days are too difficult.  Miriam wears a uniform and also has PE once a week.   The sad bit for Simon is that he will have a year of Reception (full time/all day school) and then come back to the states and go to part-time kindergarten.  Poor kid.   Or not.  Poor me?  


Nursery and Reception are part of the “Foundation” category and operate under a different learning model than the subsequent years.  I’m not exactly sure what that means but I’m just learning the vocabulary.  Levels 1 and 2 are called “Key Stage 1”  and levels 3-6 are “Key Stage 2.”  Like I said,  I’m not exactly sure what it all means. 

Level 1: Children who are age 5 at the beginning of the school year.  This would be the kindergarten equivalent.  So the number of my kids level/grade doesn’t match up with the number of the grade they would be at home.  

Level 2: First grade equivalent.  

Level 3:  Eli will be a level 3.  

Level 4: Third grade… you get the idea. 

Level 5: Cameron will be a level five.  The primary schools go up to level six, so thankfully all four kids will all be at the same school for the two years that we are living here.  

This is all really boring but maybe grandparents are still reading. 

The school year is divided into three terms, Autumn term, Spring term, and Summer term.  They get a week of holiday at half term, and a longer break between terms.  (Two weeks at Christmas, etc.)  Their summer break is only 5-6 weeks.  At the induction the school made it very clear that students are not allowed to miss school during term without a Dr. excuse or funerals.   Sadly, we are scheduled to leave London in May of 2016 and so the kids will only get to attend two terms next year.  I kind of have a knot in my stomach over this.  I guess it can’t be helped but I wish we had planned better.  

The uniforms consist of black or gray shorts/pants/skirts with a white polo or collared shirt and black shoes.  They are required to wear the school sweatshirt every morning and they also have to have a matching blue backpack with the school logo.  We went back to the school to buy the kids sweatshirts, PE kits, and backpacks and it was a pretty penny.  And that doesn’t include the actual uniforms.  (Five days worth of pants and polos for four kids.) But they are all going to look so smart! 

I really liked all the teachers and staff I’ve met at the school so far.  During the induction we had an interview with two members of the “inclusion team” who were really kind and answered all my questions.  I don’t really know what to expect, and I think all the kids (except Simon) are a little nervous too.  But the opportunity for all four of my kids to attend the same school for two years will surely have some fantastic benefits.  

I haven’t blogged because I’ve spent the last three days engrossed in the book These is my Words by Nancy E. Turner.  It was a going away gift from a friend and it gobbled me up.  Then after I’ve done nothing but read a novel for days my thoughts start to run like prose and my life becomes dramatic fiction all in my head and I feel a little out of sorts and when I hear a British accent out my front window I’m terribly confused because my present moment is in the Arizona territories in 1887.   Such are the joys of a book.  But then the fall-out is a messy house and demons for children because how could I possibly be troubled to feed and discipline them when poor Miss Prine is fighting for her life against Apaches? 

Friday night we went to Costco.  When we got home, hours later, Richard and I vowed to never forget that a trip to Costco or Ikea is a four hour committment, at least.  And it turns out, not just anyone can get a membership to Costco here.  The woman at customer service kept asking Richard if he was sure we didn’t already have a membership from the States that we could use.  “Don’t all Americans have a Costco membership?” she asked.  But it also turns out that KPMG has an arrangement with Costco so we should be able to get one if we want.  I think the only reason we seem to believe we can’t live without one here when we managed to live without one in Boise is because the portion sizes of groceries in the stores here are so inadequate for a family of six, and we are hoping the Costco sizes will be a bit more like “normal” sizes back home. 

Saturday was cloudy and stormy and Richard took the kids to the church for an activity in the morning.  Saturday afternoon is a blur… I’m not sure what Richard and the kids did…  

Sunday at church I got a calling.  I am now the second counselor in the Young Women Presidency.  There are a total of two young women who attend church regularly and I already adore them.  

I’ll have to devote an entire post just to the school induction and everything we learned.  We went back this morning to buy all the “PE kits”, “jumpers” and backpacks.  (There was a word for those too but I can’t remember it.)  I felt badly for the kids because everyone kept commenting on how small they are and how Eli must be on the brink of a growth spurt so we better buy a size bigger.  Eli has never seemed to mind being small though and when Cameron looked disappointed the same woman said “You will have a growth spurt too!” 

On Monday after the induction we had to walk home because my Oyster card was broke and you can only top-up at stations or online and I haven’t registered to do that yet.  An Oyster card just looks like a credit card and you can use it on the tube, the DLR, the overground, and the rail and  buses when you are in certain zones in the city.  It’s really convenient.  It’s so fancy that you don’t have to scan it anywhere, you just touch it to the electronic pad and it scans it, gives you a green light and tells you your balance.  

Anyway it was really hot and past lunch time so we stopped and had doughnuts on a park bench.  I would say I bribed the kids with doughnuts, but that would have just been bad parenting because they were so naughty at the school they didn’t deserve anything.  I forgave them because I wasn’t smart to make an appointment at lunchtime and I blame the school for making me fill out pages and pages of paperwork that they could have sent home with me on the day I made the appointment.  

Here we are on Tuesday and I feel like we don’t have much to show for the week so far other than that the kids are all registered for school and I finished a whole book.  

When I was in ninth grade my family moved to Virginia for a year.  We visited a lot of Civil War sites and my brothers Evan and Darren became obsessed with all things Civil War.  

When we visited Dover castle a couple weeks ago we took a tour of the underground tunnels that were used in World War II, and the tour included a lot of WWII history.  Cameron and Eli were enraptured, game set and match they are now obsessed with all things WWII.  At the library they have chosen multiple books about the war and actually read them.  I think this is fabulous except that sometimes I worry that they are glamorizing war, rather than really comprehending the destruction, sacrifice and hardships of it.  But I’ll be thinking of ways to address that…

So lately Cameron is has been really interested in geography, and empires, and why the Japanese and Germans were so interested in conquest.  He loves looking at maps and playing make believe war scenarios.  

I can already see the ways living here is changing him.  Not changing his personality, or even necessarily his character. But his interests and passions are evolving in ways I feel grateful for.  He has a new awareness about the world and countries and politics.  I don’t want to dramatize this or make it seem more significant than it is because he is still a nine year old with a bad attitude and a total lack of gratitude.  But he is thirsty for knowledge and I am so excited for all the opportunities unfolding for him.   Whenever we meet people from different countries, he wants to come home and look it up on the iPad.  He asks questions all the time and actually listens to our answers.  Richard is much more patient with him, and will take the time to give thorough explanations about people and ideas.  He seems to just soak it all up.  The other day I overheard him explaining to Eli about why we got into a war with Iraq over WMDs.  

I don’t know how well Eli and Miriam and Simon will remember our time here, so I sort of have all my eggs in Cameron’s basket so to speak, as far as this experience really making a difference in any of my children’s lives.  But I already feel hopeful for him, and hope that these curiosities stick with him for the next two years, and life.  

What a is a lido? It’s a name for an outdoor public swimming place.  It can be a beach or a pool, and lidos were wildly popular in the 1930’s.  There is one in London that was built as early as 1906, but I guess public swimming didn’t quite come into it’s own until the 20’s and 30’s.  I also discovered that many of them are referred to as “art deco” lidos because of the decorating style during that time period.  I found myself daydreaming about being a flapper in a stylish swimming costume with a fancy cap on.  (Side note- they still call swimsuits “costumes” here.  A parent told me that Cameron would need one for PE at school.) 

When we had narrowed down our house choice to two, it was our house and one in East Duwich.  Dulwich is charming.  It is quaint and picturesque, quiet and leafy green.  The shops are classy and well-kept and the park, ohhhhhh the park.  We obviously didn’t choose that house, but Dulwich has a special place in my heart and I plan to spend a lot of time there.  

We took the bus, which was hot and long.  It has been unbearably humid the last week or so.  At first I didn’t understand why every time I sat down my clothing felt damp, and why all the paper in our house felt flimsy and wet.  Cameron gets so sweaty all the time, doing his active Cameron-ish things like imaginary football and real football.  

By the time we arrived we were all ready for a dive into the cool waters, but apparently we weren’t the only brilliant folks to think of swimming on a hot day and the queue was daunting.  Fortunately we were in line behind a couple Americans.  A father, Paul, and his son who has lived in London for 11 years.  (I never caught his name.)  Paul was so great with the kids.  He took them to sit in the shade, told them jokes, and listened to their jokes (the REAL kindness) while I chatted with his son, and eventually our conversation included the woman behind us.  The son has a girlfriend who is due in a few weeks with their first child and they are moving to her home in Brazil, and the woman behind me in line was from Brazil, the daughter of a Brazilian and Greek.  It was such a fascinating conversation, that despite the heat I was perfectly content to just absorb everything I was hearing while my children were entertained by the soon-to-be grandpa.  

Okay, so maybe I’m a spoiled American, with our amazing water parks and public pools that are children-friendly.  But I didn’t really see what all the fuss was about.  There was one, massive 50 metre pool and it was jam packed.  The only swimming Mim and Si could do was jumping into the water, me catching them and returning them to the edge.  The cool water definitely felt good, and Cameron and Eli had a good time retrieving pound coins that I tossed to the bottom of the pool, but otherwise we found much to be desired.  

It was so busy and the kids were a little intimidated by the crowds so we only stayed for a couple hours.  

The bus ride home was brutally hot and miserable.  The kids were all exhausted and I spent several minutes trying to decide if it was worth the trouble.  But it was a nice way to spend a hot afternoon all in all and I think we will check out a few more lidos before the summer is over.  

Yesterday was a lifetime.  

It began with Miriam and I getting dressed up, me trying to look older and responsible and Miriam not trying at all but looking adorable, to go to her Reception Induction.  I think those are just fancy words for kindergarten orientation.   The event began at 9:45 but I decided to leave early so I could ask some questions and return some paperwork before it began.  

Google maps told me it would take eight minutes to get to the school.  We left the house at 9:10.  We arrived at the school, me feeling totally irresponsible, at 10:20. 

It took me an hour and ten minutes to make an eight minute drive.  I’ll summarize it like this.  I got lost.  So I turned around and came back to our street to start over but I got lost again.  My navigation on my mobile wouldn’t work because I have poor data coverage.  I was afraid to call Richard because that’s illegal and I can barely drive let alone talk and drive.  I began to feel helpless and alone.  I started to cry. I asked for directions and the stranger could see I was so upset that he suggested he drive me there instead.  I insisted I was capable.  Even though people were honking at me and giving me dirty looks.  Eventually I called Richard with the handsfree/bluetooth and he talked me through it.  

But it was that moment.  THAT moment.  The one I’ve been dreading. The moment when I asked myself 

“WHAT AM I DOING HERE?” 

There was more to it (or at least in the drama of the moment it felt that way) than what I’ve written but this summary will suffice. 

Eventually we made it to the school and everyone at the school was very kind.  They could see I was upset and they were accommodating and went out of their way to be helpful.  At one point a woman started talking to me and she asked how my morning had been and I told her everything, opening my soul to this stranger.  She listened patiently and then I had the presence of mind to ask her about HER morning.  Did she have a child entering reception? 

“No actually I’m the Head Master of the school.” 

Gulp.  I just word vomited to the “principle” of my children’s new school.  Thank heaven’s the woman was not the least bit pretentious and remained my companion for the duration of our visit to the school.  I’ll write more about the school next week, Cameron and Eli have their induction on Monday.  But everything got better after we made it to the school.  

I promised the kids that if they were good during quiet time we would go back to the library.  I only let them pick three books last time because I had to carry them all, and three books apparently didn’t last long.  So this time I was more prepared and had them bring their backpacks.  

The library is only about a ten minute walk, which is such a blessing.  Richard and I were talking last night about how everything is so close.  The Lewisham shopping centre (mall) is about a ten minute walk, the street market is a five minute walk, the train station is a ten minute walk and there are bus stops two-ten minutes away.  I remember having a conversation with Lori about how much location mattered to her in terms of convenience and access and having lived in Kuna for so long I couldn’t relate.  Now I know how hard it will be to have to drive to all those places.  

I know that a pound and a dollar are not equal on the exchange, but Richard gets paid in pounds so for the sake of simplicity just consider that what is worth a dollar there, is worth a pound here.  (As evidenced by stores like Poundland and All a Pound = Dollar store.) 

At the end of the day they sell two bowls/scoops for £1.50.  The price and convenience are hard to beat.  We are a five minute walk from any fruit or vegetable I want for breakfast/lunch/dinner.  

Like I said, a lifetime.  

We made arrangements to meet up on Wednesday morning and take the bus to a new park.  They came down to Lewisham on a bus, then we got on a different bus together and rode to Hilly Fields park.  We were there for over four hours, which is a testament to mine and my children’s need for social activity I suppose.  

Mindy was a delight to talk to.  I think we covered everything from religion to politics, parenthood, living abroad, our families, our passions and nothing in any superficial way.  The time went by so quickly and I thoroughly enjoyed myself.  I only wish she and her family were staying longer! 

So without further ado, our garden!

We quickly learned during house hunting that you don’t refer to the space behind your residence as a “yard.”  When the British hear “yard” they think more along the lines of a courtyard; something brick and concrete.  “Green spaces” as HHI likes to refer to them, are most often referred to here as a garden.  (Not like a produce or flower garden, although most of my neighbors have both.)

We REALLY wanted a garden of some sort and we turned down a really amazing house in the heart of Greenwich because it had no garden.  (And it was on a busy road and a bit out of our price range, but Richard would have had about a 10 minute, really inexpensive commute!) 

There are two compost bins in the garden that are utterly disgusting.  Suggestions?  They are infested with mold and insects and I have no idea what to do with them! 

I know there are disadvantages to living in such close proximity to other people, you can hear their conversations if you listen closely.  But I kind of love the community feel.  I met one of my neighbors the other day and she invited me in immediately and went to make tea straightaway, but I told her I couldn’t stay because I’d left my kids at home. 

Coming from a house made of the cheapest materials possible, plywood and vinyl siding, I can’t get enough of the brick.  It’s so NOT uniform, NOT new, NOT plastic.   The trees are huge and the six or seven gardens I can see from upstairs are all so different and full of character.  Looking out the windows has become a favorite pastime of mine.  

For Family Home Evening last night we had a picnic at Greenwich park.  Cameron has been asking to go play football at a park every day since we moved here.   Our first football got kicked over the wall on our 20th floor apartment.  But that story another time…  So we finally replaced it with a new football and the kids were excited to use it. 

There were booths everywhere stocked with culinary masterpieces from all over the world.  The displays of quiches and tarts were works of art themselves, looking both beautiful and delicious.  The smells at every turn had me walking so slowly I was becoming an inconvenience to the crowds.  There were cakes and pastries and baklava.  Sushi, empanadas, and ceviche.  Soups, kebabs, and breads.  Jams, sauces and drinks.  

I wish I had taken more pictures but I was totally absorbed in it all. I wanted to sample everything but since I was alone I just chose one thing, and settled on this lemon tart from a French girl who was kind and let me sample a couple other of her pastries.  

The other night Richard and I looked at properties for rent in Chelsea and it blew our minds.  They are so expensive and so lavish and opulent.  Of course there are more practical properties but even the rent for those is three times what we pay.  It’s such a beautiful part of the city though, I can see why it’s so desirable.   But it also has a reputation as being glitzy and exclusive. 

When we were house hunting with Jo we saw a house that was lived in by two young bachelors.  I commented about how well decorated and clean it was for being a dude’s residence.  There were pictures on the wall of the home’s occupants, athletic, blonde, attractive and surrounded by gorgeous women.  After my compliments about the quality of the decor, Jo looked at the pictures and said “Of course! These guys were ‘Made in Chelsea!'”

Goddard’s at Greenwich is going to be a family favorite.  It is family friendly, inexpensive, and just plain comfort  food.  They serve the traditional pie and mash, which is a pot pie with your choice of meat(s) and mashed potatoes; with either creamed peas (blech) or beans (think pork and beans).  But the best is dessert- blackcurrant crumble with ice cream or custard.  Mmmmmm.  Yummmo.  

Greenwich is nice because it’s just a couple train stations away from us and it always has a lot going on, fun ambiance, and cute shops.