Showing posts with label Bristol. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bristol. Show all posts
Tuesday, 28 August 2012
Boat trip by Theo
Thursday, 19 April 2012
What's this? A weekend? by Theo
Yep, despite our tiny budget and tiny toddler, we managed to make a weekend of it! Our dear friend Ayesha came up from London to spend Saturday with us and was an instant hit with Rosie (though of course they have met before).
In the evening we splashed out on our lovely local babysitter allowing us to introduce Ayesha to one of our old haunts (The Folk House) and three of our favourite local singers - Roger Tarry, Annette Berlin and Caroline Martin.
Roger was as good as ever - we've been watching him play for getting on for 10 years now (Kate pointed out she doesn't think his hairstyle has changed in that whole period!) but it was the first time we've seen him sing with Caroline and a cellist in tow - haunting stuff.
Amazingly this was the first time we'd seen Annette playing as herself - we're more used to seeing her front noiseniks Big Joan - and indeed this was her first outing as a duo, with Suzie on piano, not that you could tell. There were some moments where you imagined other instruments would have filled out the songs more, but the harmonising was beautiful.
Finally the leading lady Caroline came on stage, launching a new album. I've been watching Caroline play for nearly 10 years too (and have even toured with her) and was wondering whether marriage and impending motherhood would have mellowed her. Nope! Still singing sparse, beautiful and delicious dark songs of gender danger. Love it!
In the evening we splashed out on our lovely local babysitter allowing us to introduce Ayesha to one of our old haunts (The Folk House) and three of our favourite local singers - Roger Tarry, Annette Berlin and Caroline Martin.Roger was as good as ever - we've been watching him play for getting on for 10 years now (Kate pointed out she doesn't think his hairstyle has changed in that whole period!) but it was the first time we've seen him sing with Caroline and a cellist in tow - haunting stuff.
Amazingly this was the first time we'd seen Annette playing as herself - we're more used to seeing her front noiseniks Big Joan - and indeed this was her first outing as a duo, with Suzie on piano, not that you could tell. There were some moments where you imagined other instruments would have filled out the songs more, but the harmonising was beautiful.
Finally the leading lady Caroline came on stage, launching a new album. I've been watching Caroline play for nearly 10 years too (and have even toured with her) and was wondering whether marriage and impending motherhood would have mellowed her. Nope! Still singing sparse, beautiful and delicious dark songs of gender danger. Love it!
Friday, 23 December 2011
The return of Club Choke - by Theo
Club Choke holds a special place in our hearts for, although it had ceased to exist as a monthly event by the time we met, it was through the club's message boards that we commenced our friendship and flirtation. So when we heard that Club Choke would be resurrected for its 10th anniversary we immediately signed up before we'd even seen the line up - but what a line up!
Thanks to my sister Hermione and her husband Richard agreeing to babysit (despite a triple booking) we made it to The Croft on time, where we ran into a veritable who's who in the Bristol music scene from the past 10 years. Many of them were old friends who we hadn't seen since we'd got back from Spain, so we almost wanted there to be more time between bands to chat and catch up. As it was, in order to fit an incredible 8 bands into the evening, there were two stages running in synch, meaning no break between bands.
Anta kicked off the evening with one long, almost seamless piece of tight-to-the-groove prog. Awesome, even if the gong was (intentionally?) hilarious.
Then it was a dash back through the Croft to the (relatively) new front room for the ultimate Choke band - Big Joan - who were as brilliant as ever with fat, scratchy bass and a captivating front woman. Playing mostly tracks from their ace new album, they did wheel out one old favourite, Tiger, which was great to hear.
The one non-local band, Actionbeat, followed back in the main room. We stuck it for a bit, but the pretentious vocals were bugging Kate and the squally guitars were irritating me: after two bands who had had such emphatic rhythms, I wanted something with a groove, and despite having two drummers Actionbeat didn't.
The very enjoyable Glis Glis were next, but by then we were starting to flag - sometimes you need a break between bands - and we're not used to standing up so much these days!
We got our wind back for the main event though, the legendary Madnomad. They'd stopped playing just as I got into the local scene, so had never seen them (despite knowing all the members), though their reputation had set the bar high. They cleared it. Despite nearly a decade away from the stage (as Madnomad) they'd lost none of their stage presence and had us all bouncing along merrily, though the general lack of participation in the masked mosh pit at the end perhaps showed everyone's age - ours included.
Sadly, we didn't have enough stamina to make it through the following three acts - SJ Esau, War Against Sleep and Geisha - all bands we've seen and enjoyed many a time, and we had babysitters to relieve, so we called it a night there. But what a great way to finish...
Thanks to my sister Hermione and her husband Richard agreeing to babysit (despite a triple booking) we made it to The Croft on time, where we ran into a veritable who's who in the Bristol music scene from the past 10 years. Many of them were old friends who we hadn't seen since we'd got back from Spain, so we almost wanted there to be more time between bands to chat and catch up. As it was, in order to fit an incredible 8 bands into the evening, there were two stages running in synch, meaning no break between bands.
Anta kicked off the evening with one long, almost seamless piece of tight-to-the-groove prog. Awesome, even if the gong was (intentionally?) hilarious.
Then it was a dash back through the Croft to the (relatively) new front room for the ultimate Choke band - Big Joan - who were as brilliant as ever with fat, scratchy bass and a captivating front woman. Playing mostly tracks from their ace new album, they did wheel out one old favourite, Tiger, which was great to hear.
The one non-local band, Actionbeat, followed back in the main room. We stuck it for a bit, but the pretentious vocals were bugging Kate and the squally guitars were irritating me: after two bands who had had such emphatic rhythms, I wanted something with a groove, and despite having two drummers Actionbeat didn't.
The very enjoyable Glis Glis were next, but by then we were starting to flag - sometimes you need a break between bands - and we're not used to standing up so much these days!
We got our wind back for the main event though, the legendary Madnomad. They'd stopped playing just as I got into the local scene, so had never seen them (despite knowing all the members), though their reputation had set the bar high. They cleared it. Despite nearly a decade away from the stage (as Madnomad) they'd lost none of their stage presence and had us all bouncing along merrily, though the general lack of participation in the masked mosh pit at the end perhaps showed everyone's age - ours included.
Sadly, we didn't have enough stamina to make it through the following three acts - SJ Esau, War Against Sleep and Geisha - all bands we've seen and enjoyed many a time, and we had babysitters to relieve, so we called it a night there. But what a great way to finish...
Sunday, 18 December 2011
M-Shed - by Theo
After a rather disastrous park trip this morning - Rosie wanted to be carried the whole way and didn't want to go on anything when she got there - we decided some indoor exercise for our tiny toddler was in order. So we bundled ourselves into Granny's Go Kart, picked up Aunty Hermione in Clifton, and headed to the M-shed on Princess Wharf.
The huge ex-warehouse, which used to house the Industrial Museum, is now a free Museum of Bristol past and present (in fact several of the exhibits are left over from the Industrial Museum days). We've been there with Rosie before, with varying degrees of success - Rosie can become quite fixated on an object and will refuse to be torn away from it for ages. 
That's fine when the object in question is an old Anderson shelter that she can just walk into, but when it's one of the many keyboard/screen interactive activities around the museum it's a different question. 
They just aren't quite at Rosie height, meaning one of her devoted slaves... sorry, parents, has to hold her up, which gets tiring pretty quickly.
Much more entertaining for us was the dress up section, where visitors could try on police and fire fighter outfits. Rosie kept putting the helmets on back to front, and often ended up looking like an extra from Stars Wars.
With only one minor tantrum (after we stopped her from scratching at a Beryl Cook original) we managed to extricate Rosie from keyboards, through the 'magic' doors and home for tea.
M-shed: highly recommended, especially if you have a toddler to exercise.
The huge ex-warehouse, which used to house the Industrial Museum, is now a free Museum of Bristol past and present (in fact several of the exhibits are left over from the Industrial Museum days). We've been there with Rosie before, with varying degrees of success - Rosie can become quite fixated on an object and will refuse to be torn away from it for ages. 
That's fine when the object in question is an old Anderson shelter that she can just walk into, but when it's one of the many keyboard/screen interactive activities around the museum it's a different question. 
They just aren't quite at Rosie height, meaning one of her devoted slaves... sorry, parents, has to hold her up, which gets tiring pretty quickly.Much more entertaining for us was the dress up section, where visitors could try on police and fire fighter outfits. Rosie kept putting the helmets on back to front, and often ended up looking like an extra from Stars Wars.
With only one minor tantrum (after we stopped her from scratching at a Beryl Cook original) we managed to extricate Rosie from keyboards, through the 'magic' doors and home for tea.M-shed: highly recommended, especially if you have a toddler to exercise.
Wednesday, 30 November 2011
Nice day for a strike - by Theo
Despite the fact that I don't yet have a pension, nor a job to go on strike from, I figured I should show solidarity with my future colleagues and join in the Bristol demo. I am in fact a member of all three main teaching unions (NUT, ATL, NASUWT - PGCE students join free), so even more reason to turn up.
Today was, conveniently, a study day, so I was in the library anyway having taken my QTS numeracy test that morning (more of that later), and only had to wander down Park Street. I managed to time my exit from Berkley Square perfectly so I could tag onto the UCU members as they marched down from Senate House to join the swelling ranks of protesting public sector workers gathering near the Occupy Bristol tent city on College Green.
It was perfect weather: clear blue skies, little breeze and warm sunshine. Loads of kids (well, the schools were on strike!) and lots of colour, with various flags and banners waving back and forth. The Ambling Band, dressed in resplendent pink, had turned up to provide a welcome jaunty accompaniment and there was also a samba band further down the procession. I bumped into a couple of old pals (Richie, Tom) as well as most members of the English Department at my first placement school. The school where I'll be next was also closed today, so I guess some of my future colleagues may well have been there too.
Honestly it is such a shame that the so-called progressive parties in the UK seem to be terrified of fighting the corner of the public sector, for fear of affronting all-powerful private interests presumably. There was meant to be 2 million-odd people on strike across the country today; that's a sizeable chunk of the electorate. If only somebody at Westminster was brave enough to say "Yep. We're with you."
Today was, conveniently, a study day, so I was in the library anyway having taken my QTS numeracy test that morning (more of that later), and only had to wander down Park Street. I managed to time my exit from Berkley Square perfectly so I could tag onto the UCU members as they marched down from Senate House to join the swelling ranks of protesting public sector workers gathering near the Occupy Bristol tent city on College Green.
It was perfect weather: clear blue skies, little breeze and warm sunshine. Loads of kids (well, the schools were on strike!) and lots of colour, with various flags and banners waving back and forth. The Ambling Band, dressed in resplendent pink, had turned up to provide a welcome jaunty accompaniment and there was also a samba band further down the procession. I bumped into a couple of old pals (Richie, Tom) as well as most members of the English Department at my first placement school. The school where I'll be next was also closed today, so I guess some of my future colleagues may well have been there too.
Honestly it is such a shame that the so-called progressive parties in the UK seem to be terrified of fighting the corner of the public sector, for fear of affronting all-powerful private interests presumably. There was meant to be 2 million-odd people on strike across the country today; that's a sizeable chunk of the electorate. If only somebody at Westminster was brave enough to say "Yep. We're with you."
Sunday, 9 October 2011
Birthday Bike - by Theo
After months of dithering and changing my mind, I finally decided to buy a new bike. This wouldn't be cheap, as I would need all the gear as well - helmet, pump, lock, pannier, pannier bags, lights and so on. As it's my 3oth in a few days Kate suggested it should be my birthday present.
Buying a new bike wasn't quite so simple as I imagined. There was no waltzing in and just grabbing one off the rack. I had to get one in my size. It shows my ignorance about cycling that I didn't realise adult bikes came in sizes. In the end it took about 10 days to get a Barrosa Monaco made up at the Bristol Bike Workshop, which ended up being the cheapest option. Worth the wait though as it's very comfortable and leaves me no longer at the mercies of Bristol's public transport system. Well the trains anyway - I'm sure the buses will intimidate the hell out of me as I pedal laboriously along Bristol's streets.
Thanks to all those that contributed to my lovely present!
Buying a new bike wasn't quite so simple as I imagined. There was no waltzing in and just grabbing one off the rack. I had to get one in my size. It shows my ignorance about cycling that I didn't realise adult bikes came in sizes. In the end it took about 10 days to get a Barrosa Monaco made up at the Bristol Bike Workshop, which ended up being the cheapest option. Worth the wait though as it's very comfortable and leaves me no longer at the mercies of Bristol's public transport system. Well the trains anyway - I'm sure the buses will intimidate the hell out of me as I pedal laboriously along Bristol's streets.
Thanks to all those that contributed to my lovely present!
Sunday, 25 September 2011
Student again - by Theo
As I took my seat on Monday it was impossible not to feel both a sense of nostalgia and of time standing still; after all, nearly 11 years previously I had sat down in the very same room (Chemistry Lecture Theatre 1) for my Undergraduate Philosophy lectures. Where did that decade go?!?! There I was again, a Bristol University student, for the third time, this time to begin a PGCE in Secondary English.
It's been a great first week; challenging, but not too intense. I seem to be in a reasonably privileged position of having a background in literature, a very solid grounding in English grammar and also teaching experience; few of my 29 course mates can say the same, it seems. I've been surprised at the range of backgrounds - some did degrees in Drama, others in Linguistics. They are a lovely bunch, though the demographics would surprise nobody - 1 male student to every 5 female ones, with only one student being obviously of a BME background. Across the wider PGCE course - 200-odd students studying to be teachers in Science, History, MFL, Geography, Maths, RE and Citizenship - this seems to be the case too. I've met a couple of other parents, though there are none doing English. However I did run into an old classmate, Susa, who is studying to be a German and Spanish Teacher - she only got a place on the course recently and it came as a complete, but very pleasant, surprise to met her at the lecture.
So far most of the lectures have just dealt with the 'admin' side of the course, plus getting to know you style activities within our subject groups. The real work begins next week I suspect, and already we've got piles of reading to get through. What work we have done - lesson planning, grammar analysis - hasn't seemed all that far away from techniques I'm used to in a TEFL context, all guided discovery and CELTA style planning proformas. We'll be in schools though from the first week of October and that will be a huge difference. I can't wait actually!
It's been a great first week; challenging, but not too intense. I seem to be in a reasonably privileged position of having a background in literature, a very solid grounding in English grammar and also teaching experience; few of my 29 course mates can say the same, it seems. I've been surprised at the range of backgrounds - some did degrees in Drama, others in Linguistics. They are a lovely bunch, though the demographics would surprise nobody - 1 male student to every 5 female ones, with only one student being obviously of a BME background. Across the wider PGCE course - 200-odd students studying to be teachers in Science, History, MFL, Geography, Maths, RE and Citizenship - this seems to be the case too. I've met a couple of other parents, though there are none doing English. However I did run into an old classmate, Susa, who is studying to be a German and Spanish Teacher - she only got a place on the course recently and it came as a complete, but very pleasant, surprise to met her at the lecture.
So far most of the lectures have just dealt with the 'admin' side of the course, plus getting to know you style activities within our subject groups. The real work begins next week I suspect, and already we've got piles of reading to get through. What work we have done - lesson planning, grammar analysis - hasn't seemed all that far away from techniques I'm used to in a TEFL context, all guided discovery and CELTA style planning proformas. We'll be in schools though from the first week of October and that will be a huge difference. I can't wait actually!
Friday, 16 September 2011
Why I don't want to be a Primary School teacher - by Theo
I have had the privilege to have spent the past two weeks observing in Elmlea Junior School up in Westbury-on-Trym. As part of my PGCE I was obliged to do this, but it didn't feel like an obligation. I really enjoyed it, in no small part thanks to the staff and students at Elmlea, especially my friend Stu, a Year 6 Teacher there who arranged it all and whose classes I was mostly observing.
However, no matter how nice a time I had there, it made me realise I had definitely made the right decision to choose secondary education over primary. I had been having doubts as, after all, primary is so much more important; if students don't get off to a good start, the gap between them and their peers has widened to such an extent by the time they reach secondary school that it is very hard to narrow it and help them catch up. In a class of 30 students, all demanding your attention, it's probably nigh on impossible. But it's not for me.
For starters I'm rubbish at Art. Stu really likes the fact that he gets to teach all the subjects - Literacy, Maths, History, PE, Geography, Music, PSHE and Science - but I would have never managed to get a class to produce masks like these.
I'd be pretty rubbish in singing class too!
Plus, as nice as Stu's Year 6 class were, it would drive me crazy to have the same class all the time. I don't mind teaching the same material, but I like changing students every hour or so, shifting the dynamic and allowing me to go more in depth into the topic.
So, big thanks everyone at Elmlea, but it's secondary for me. The PGCE starts Monday - here we go!
However, no matter how nice a time I had there, it made me realise I had definitely made the right decision to choose secondary education over primary. I had been having doubts as, after all, primary is so much more important; if students don't get off to a good start, the gap between them and their peers has widened to such an extent by the time they reach secondary school that it is very hard to narrow it and help them catch up. In a class of 30 students, all demanding your attention, it's probably nigh on impossible. But it's not for me.
For starters I'm rubbish at Art. Stu really likes the fact that he gets to teach all the subjects - Literacy, Maths, History, PE, Geography, Music, PSHE and Science - but I would have never managed to get a class to produce masks like these.
I'd be pretty rubbish in singing class too!
Plus, as nice as Stu's Year 6 class were, it would drive me crazy to have the same class all the time. I don't mind teaching the same material, but I like changing students every hour or so, shifting the dynamic and allowing me to go more in depth into the topic.
So, big thanks everyone at Elmlea, but it's secondary for me. The PGCE starts Monday - here we go!
Monday, 12 September 2011
Friends and family - by Theo
After lots of dashing around the past few weekends, it was a relief to spend Saturday and Sunday relaxing in the company of friends, family and friends' families.
Rosie obliged us both with a lie-in on both days.... she woke up at 7.25am. Hey, anything after 6.30am counts as a lie-in in this house. The weather didn't look very promising, but it brightened up enough for us to head out en famille to St George's Park for Redfest. A very local event, there were live bands, stalls, the Bristol playbus and graffiti artists among the attractions. It was very pleasant and although Rosie was mostly interested in eating plums and running after her ball, we did spend some time hanging out with Kate's new mum-chum, Claire, her daughter Selma and husband Mark.
Later that evening Kate and I benefited from some outstanding generosity from some former gig-going buddies, Steve and Ruth, who babysat for us so we could enjoy a meal out with my sister, her husband and my parents, who were celebrating their birthdays.
When went to Bordeaux Quay on the Harbourside, touted for its use of organic ingredients. It was a lovely evening and, although Kate and I both found the food a bit too salty (couldn't really taste anything else) the desserts more than made up for it. Nice to have a treat every now and then.
On Sunday Obaro and his lovely daughter Nola joined us in the morning for lunch - both the girls and us. It was a fun, if messy affair. Nola was a bit shy to begin with, but she relaxed soon enough and joined in with Rosie's gabbling.
Ah, the joys of play dates! Makes me wonder what we've been missing all these years. ..
Rosie obliged us both with a lie-in on both days.... she woke up at 7.25am. Hey, anything after 6.30am counts as a lie-in in this house. The weather didn't look very promising, but it brightened up enough for us to head out en famille to St George's Park for Redfest. A very local event, there were live bands, stalls, the Bristol playbus and graffiti artists among the attractions. It was very pleasant and although Rosie was mostly interested in eating plums and running after her ball, we did spend some time hanging out with Kate's new mum-chum, Claire, her daughter Selma and husband Mark.
Later that evening Kate and I benefited from some outstanding generosity from some former gig-going buddies, Steve and Ruth, who babysat for us so we could enjoy a meal out with my sister, her husband and my parents, who were celebrating their birthdays.
When went to Bordeaux Quay on the Harbourside, touted for its use of organic ingredients. It was a lovely evening and, although Kate and I both found the food a bit too salty (couldn't really taste anything else) the desserts more than made up for it. Nice to have a treat every now and then.
On Sunday Obaro and his lovely daughter Nola joined us in the morning for lunch - both the girls and us. It was a fun, if messy affair. Nola was a bit shy to begin with, but she relaxed soon enough and joined in with Rosie's gabbling.
Ah, the joys of play dates! Makes me wonder what we've been missing all these years. ..
Saturday, 13 August 2011
balloons - by Theo
It's the Balloon Fiesta at the moment, an annual event in Bristol that sees hundreds of balloonists and many more enthusiasts descend on Ashton Court. The English Language College where I'm teaching this month has been very good at organising a summer social programme for the students, so it was only natural that the Balloon Fiesta would feature. So on Thursday night I and five other teachers found ourselves leading around 100 foreign students on a trek from Clifton to Bower Ashton. I was at the front, initially with a bunch of Turkish students, which was very dull for me, but then later with a group of Spaniards, which was fine. The students aren't meant to speak in their own languages at all, and by and large then don't as they hang out in mixed groups. The Turks and Spanish however, don't and are notorious for this. Well, they are all adults, so there's not much we can do about it - and at least I got to practice my Spanish!
We were taking the students to see the Nightglow, which entails grounded balloons lighting up in synch to music. I'd heard it was spectacular but had actually never been before. Actually I found it quite dull. At the risk of sounding curmudgeonly, I thought the choice of music was abysmal (movie soundtracks - Celine Dion and Aerosmith), the balloons out of time, and there was too much ambient light from the fairground and food stalls for it to be really impressive.
Far more impressive are the ascents, which happen daily, weather permitting, at 6am and 6pm throughout the weekend. Walking to work on Friday morning down Church Road offered a spectacular view of them as they drifted overhead from Ashton Court, while this evening we've been offered a great show from our bedroom window, with all Berry Salisbury family members leaning out to get the best view. 
We were taking the students to see the Nightglow, which entails grounded balloons lighting up in synch to music. I'd heard it was spectacular but had actually never been before. Actually I found it quite dull. At the risk of sounding curmudgeonly, I thought the choice of music was abysmal (movie soundtracks - Celine Dion and Aerosmith), the balloons out of time, and there was too much ambient light from the fairground and food stalls for it to be really impressive.
Far more impressive are the ascents, which happen daily, weather permitting, at 6am and 6pm throughout the weekend. Walking to work on Friday morning down Church Road offered a spectacular view of them as they drifted overhead from Ashton Court, while this evening we've been offered a great show from our bedroom window, with all Berry Salisbury family members leaning out to get the best view. 
Friday, 15 July 2011
Gig- by Theo
Here was a first. Kate and I, who met and romanced each other at various live music venues across Bristol and beyond, venturing forth to our first gig together since Rosie's birth. With Aunty Hermione (Rosie's aunt - my sister) on babysitting duties Kate and I sallied forth to The Cube for Rachael Dadd's album launch. Typically, we forgot the camera!
Luckily we'd bought tickets as it was sold out - indeed we saw our friend Obaro as he got turned away. To be honest if we hadn't had tickets we might not have made it, as we'd had a tough night the night before and were both pretty knackered. Still we're very glad we did.
Kate Stables, aka This is the Kit, opened proceedings with a flurry of new songs plus a choice selection from her latest album "Wriggle out the Restless" which has been getting lots of play on BBC 6 Music. She was as captivating and charming as ever.
Kate and Rachael's music is well known to us as I regularly used to put them on bills back in my promoting days, but what followed was a completely novel experience for us in more ways than one. Ichi, Rachael's Japanese husband, entered the stage on stilts, to which various bells and shakers were attached, while playing a harmonica through a fantastically preposterous mustache. It got sillier from there on. Playing a variety of standard and non-standard instruments - including steel drum, trumpet, a home made lyre, a typewriter, a home made banjo (one of the stilts), balloons, ping pong balls and a drum machine - he quickly had the audience in hysterics especially when he added endearing falsetto word play over the top. Quite, quite surreal.
By now it was approaching 11 and Kate and I were practically propping each other up in our seats, so after 4 beautiful songs of Rachael's set we decided to make a discreet exit clutching her latest album to try to make up for what we missed.
We're back!
Luckily we'd bought tickets as it was sold out - indeed we saw our friend Obaro as he got turned away. To be honest if we hadn't had tickets we might not have made it, as we'd had a tough night the night before and were both pretty knackered. Still we're very glad we did.
Kate Stables, aka This is the Kit, opened proceedings with a flurry of new songs plus a choice selection from her latest album "Wriggle out the Restless" which has been getting lots of play on BBC 6 Music. She was as captivating and charming as ever.
Kate and Rachael's music is well known to us as I regularly used to put them on bills back in my promoting days, but what followed was a completely novel experience for us in more ways than one. Ichi, Rachael's Japanese husband, entered the stage on stilts, to which various bells and shakers were attached, while playing a harmonica through a fantastically preposterous mustache. It got sillier from there on. Playing a variety of standard and non-standard instruments - including steel drum, trumpet, a home made lyre, a typewriter, a home made banjo (one of the stilts), balloons, ping pong balls and a drum machine - he quickly had the audience in hysterics especially when he added endearing falsetto word play over the top. Quite, quite surreal.
By now it was approaching 11 and Kate and I were practically propping each other up in our seats, so after 4 beautiful songs of Rachael's set we decided to make a discreet exit clutching her latest album to try to make up for what we missed.
We're back!
Sunday, 10 July 2011
You know you're back in Bristol when... By Kate
....despite living in an unfamiliar part of the city, you spot familiar faces in the local park the first morning after arrival.
We've been here just over a week now and in some respects, it's as if we never left. That's not to say there haven't been changes in Bristol in the two and a half years since we left to live in Madrid - there have been plenty of those. But they're largely superficial - new buildings, gaps where something's been demolished, newly created shops and walkways in the city centre etc. etc.
But old friends and acquaintances are already amassing on our social horizons and new connections are being made via Theo's job and our status as parents.
Take today - we decided, largely spontaneously, that we would make a trip to the St Werburghs City Farm then call in at St Andrews Park, where they were holding a community art day called Park Arts 2011. Our vague attempts to lasso a few people by text at the farm didn't work out, but after some time spent wandering past the stalls, activities and live music in the park.
After a sojourn in the play park so Rosie could go down the slide, we started bumping into people we knew. And more people we knew. And yet more. We could barely start a conversation with one, when another would appear. Theo make it his job to chase after Rosie (who especially enjoyed the Big R Big Band) while I tried to cram in a few years worth of catching up with various pals and make sure we were mutually mobiled for future appointments.
Needless to say, we all feel slightly exhausted after all the afternoon's excitement. Exhausted and happy to be in another place that already feels like home.
We've been here just over a week now and in some respects, it's as if we never left. That's not to say there haven't been changes in Bristol in the two and a half years since we left to live in Madrid - there have been plenty of those. But they're largely superficial - new buildings, gaps where something's been demolished, newly created shops and walkways in the city centre etc. etc.
But old friends and acquaintances are already amassing on our social horizons and new connections are being made via Theo's job and our status as parents.
Take today - we decided, largely spontaneously, that we would make a trip to the St Werburghs City Farm then call in at St Andrews Park, where they were holding a community art day called Park Arts 2011. Our vague attempts to lasso a few people by text at the farm didn't work out, but after some time spent wandering past the stalls, activities and live music in the park.
After a sojourn in the play park so Rosie could go down the slide, we started bumping into people we knew. And more people we knew. And yet more. We could barely start a conversation with one, when another would appear. Theo make it his job to chase after Rosie (who especially enjoyed the Big R Big Band) while I tried to cram in a few years worth of catching up with various pals and make sure we were mutually mobiled for future appointments.
Needless to say, we all feel slightly exhausted after all the afternoon's excitement. Exhausted and happy to be in another place that already feels like home.
Thursday, 7 July 2011
New house, new name - by Theo
So we've changed the name of the blog (again). Having begun life as a blog about our marriage and honeymoon (back then simply being called kateandtheo.blogspot), it then became a blog about us finding our way in Spain's capital and as thus changed to movingtomadrid.blogspot. However, as we no longer live in Madrid, clearly the blog needed a new name. Kate's original suggestion - sunshineandshowers - was already taken, which was a shame as this is a fairly accurate reflection of both our new home, Bristol, and our darling daughter Rosie. So instead we've settled on www.avonvalleypta.blogspot.com - a reference to both our professional (teaching) and domestic (parenting) life, our new home in the west country and a nod to one of Kate's favourite songs, The Harper Valley PTA.
We're also now in a lovely house in Redfield, Bristol, that we are renting from one of Kate's friends. It's an area neither of us knew that well, despite the fact I used to come here regularly for one thing or another, but one week in and we're charmed by the place. There's a couple of lovely parks nearby, some good shops and the local train line is proving to be very useful and reasonably priced. When we find the camera, we'll put some photos up.
Note: found it - here we are...
We're also now in a lovely house in Redfield, Bristol, that we are renting from one of Kate's friends. It's an area neither of us knew that well, despite the fact I used to come here regularly for one thing or another, but one week in and we're charmed by the place. There's a couple of lovely parks nearby, some good shops and the local train line is proving to be very useful and reasonably priced. When we find the camera, we'll put some photos up.
Note: found it - here we are...
Tuesday, 5 July 2011
First day at the new job - by Theo
So for the two months before my PGCE starts I have found work with an English language school here in Bristol, where I'll be teaching during the week. Yesterday was the first day, so of course I wanted everything to go smoothly. Ha. Ha. Ha.
First of all, getting there. The school is based in Clifton, very close to where I once lived, but we're now over in Redfield - nowhere near. Fortunately there is a train that runs from Lawrence Hill station to Clifton Down, with a 10 minute walk at either end. Fine. Except the first day I had to be there at 8.30am, while the train arrives at 8.25. Not to worry - I figured I'd get my bike back from the friends we had left it with and cycle both ends.
Despite having pumped up both tires the night before, the back wheel felt a little soft as I wheeled the bike out of our yard. So on arrival at the station I asked a lady cyclist if I could borrow her pump. No problem, but just as the tyre was beginning to feel more solid, I pushed a little too hard and broke her pump. This was naturally extremely embarrassing, and I immediately gave her £10 (way more than the pump was worth, but what the hell) to compensate her. However, I had also obviously broken something else, as within 2 minutes my tyre was now completely flat. I left the bike locked up at the station and, with a sinking feeling, jumped on the train. I'm not sure what impression I gave to my new colleagues when I arrived late to our first staff meeting sweating and out of breath having ran all the way from Clifton Down, but it wasn't what I'd had in mind.
Still, after that the day seemed to go OK.... let's hope that's my one disaster out of the way!
First of all, getting there. The school is based in Clifton, very close to where I once lived, but we're now over in Redfield - nowhere near. Fortunately there is a train that runs from Lawrence Hill station to Clifton Down, with a 10 minute walk at either end. Fine. Except the first day I had to be there at 8.30am, while the train arrives at 8.25. Not to worry - I figured I'd get my bike back from the friends we had left it with and cycle both ends.
Despite having pumped up both tires the night before, the back wheel felt a little soft as I wheeled the bike out of our yard. So on arrival at the station I asked a lady cyclist if I could borrow her pump. No problem, but just as the tyre was beginning to feel more solid, I pushed a little too hard and broke her pump. This was naturally extremely embarrassing, and I immediately gave her £10 (way more than the pump was worth, but what the hell) to compensate her. However, I had also obviously broken something else, as within 2 minutes my tyre was now completely flat. I left the bike locked up at the station and, with a sinking feeling, jumped on the train. I'm not sure what impression I gave to my new colleagues when I arrived late to our first staff meeting sweating and out of breath having ran all the way from Clifton Down, but it wasn't what I'd had in mind.
Still, after that the day seemed to go OK.... let's hope that's my one disaster out of the way!
Thursday, 30 June 2011
Heading back to Bristol - by Theo
The hardest part of travelling over 1500 miles in two days by boat and car with a 17 month old toddler? Keeping her entertained in the queue to board the ferry! We were among the last to board (meaning, as is often the case, we were almost first off and cruised through immigration - no strike delays for us!) so we had to go through the full repertoire of Rosie entertaining: taking her to see the dogs in the pet lane; showing her photos on the digital camera; letting her clamber about the seats; reading her books and so on.
I think nearly everyone within a 100 metre radius had heard her yelling "Dame!" by the time we were called forward. Typically she had just done a poo and we were in the middle of changing her....
On board Rosie was a dream, charming everyone from the Captain down. It was a late sail - 9pm - so after a quick run around to try and tire her out, we all crashed in the cabin, Rosie sleeping through in the travel cot we'd booked, despite the strangeness of the surroundings. She still woke up early though.
We were very lucky with the crossing, it was very smooth and as a result I wasn't troubled with mal de mer the way I had been the previous year so could help Kate out with Rosie. Much fun was had, especially with the toy doggies in shop.
We were also very lucky with Rosie's naps - she's obligingly slept well for us on the drive up to Santander from Madrid, and then napped so well in her buggy in the cabin - 2 hours - we were forced to wake her up - we then had to wake her up again from her nap in the car on the way up to Bristol from Plymouth.
Still, a rested if slightly wired Rosie is way better than a cranky one. She had a huge grin for Aunty Hermione, who came with Richard and a delicious veggie lasagne to help us move in to the house in Redfield we're renting from our friend Dave. It all worked out perfectly. Even the weather is being kind.
I think nearly everyone within a 100 metre radius had heard her yelling "Dame!" by the time we were called forward. Typically she had just done a poo and we were in the middle of changing her....
On board Rosie was a dream, charming everyone from the Captain down. It was a late sail - 9pm - so after a quick run around to try and tire her out, we all crashed in the cabin, Rosie sleeping through in the travel cot we'd booked, despite the strangeness of the surroundings. She still woke up early though.
We were very lucky with the crossing, it was very smooth and as a result I wasn't troubled with mal de mer the way I had been the previous year so could help Kate out with Rosie. Much fun was had, especially with the toy doggies in shop.
We were also very lucky with Rosie's naps - she's obligingly slept well for us on the drive up to Santander from Madrid, and then napped so well in her buggy in the cabin - 2 hours - we were forced to wake her up - we then had to wake her up again from her nap in the car on the way up to Bristol from Plymouth.
Still, a rested if slightly wired Rosie is way better than a cranky one. She had a huge grin for Aunty Hermione, who came with Richard and a delicious veggie lasagne to help us move in to the house in Redfield we're renting from our friend Dave. It all worked out perfectly. Even the weather is being kind.
Sunday, 27 February 2011
PGCE - by Theo
"Phew! Doing the Madrid run is always a work out," muttered one of the Easyjet hostesses, having just hauled another over-stuffed, overweight suitcase into the overhead locker. Having got cover for my last two classes I'd breezed through Barajas airport with my minimal luggage, in quiet contrast to the majority of the young, 20-something Spaniards with whom I was sharing the flight to Bristol. While they were jabbering away excitedly - including through the safety announcements, which earned them a few death-stares from the staff - I was focused more on likely questions I might get in my PGCE interview the next day, the reason for my whistle-stop visit back to Bristol while Kate had the "single parent experience" for 36 hours.
Friday found me nervously hanging around the lobby of the Bristol University School of Education in Berkeley Square. I'd spent the night at my sister's, just around the corner in Priory Road, but had slept terribly. My sister and her husband were, annoyingly, on holiday that weekend in Norway and seemed to have taken their alarm clock with them. Forced to rely on my ancient English mobile held together by several layers of sellotape, my paranoid dreams woke me up 6 times during the night, frantic that I'd overslept and had missed the interview. Obviously I didn't.
Usually they don't do interviews on a Friday, but given my circumstances they'd made an exception. As a result there was only one other interviewee (also a Berry) whereas usually there would be six at a time. I guess this was to our benefit as part of the interview was a general conversation, discussing questions between us. Easier to manage the conversation and stand out when there are only two of you! In fact the interviewer seemed to be quite interested in what we had to say, even deviating from the script to ask our opinions about contemporary (educational) events. We also had to collaborate on a feedback task, which was fine, and furthermore there was a written assessment (something I hadn't done for about 7 years!) and a brief one-to-one interview.
All in all I left feeling pretty positive, which was great as it meant I could actually relax and enjoy myself that evening, with wine, good company and delicious homemade food round at Sam and Stu's. No too late a night of course, for while I had to get up early to make my flight back, Stu was off to Uganda on an even earlier flight - 4am!
When applying for a PGCE you do so through a website called GTTR - the teaching equivalent of UCAS if you will. So when the following Tuesday I received a notification that something had changed on my application status I logged in slightly nervously to check. "Unconditional offer". Just two words; I clicked accept. All in all a bit of an anticlimax I thought, after all the effort! Not quite willing to trust in two words on an unassuming website I emailed the department on a pretext (sending them my A level certificates which my parents had been searching for) just to check before I announced it to the world at large. Or, rather, Facebook.
So, there we go. Next September I'll be a student again, and, in all likelihood, rather poor: if I had done the PGCE this year I would have a got a £6,000 bursary. Next year, those studying to be English teachers won't. Bum!
As I type it's a beautiful, warm, if slightly windy day here in Madrid, as it has been for the past week. The blossom is out, and the park (Los Molinos) down the road smells beautiful. Food is fairly cheap, my work is fun, people are friendly, I get to spend lots of time with Kate and Rosie, and, most of all, we'll miss the friends we've made here when we head off. Next year is going to be tough - I've seen my reading list! - but in the end, I reckon it will be more than worth it.
Friday found me nervously hanging around the lobby of the Bristol University School of Education in Berkeley Square. I'd spent the night at my sister's, just around the corner in Priory Road, but had slept terribly. My sister and her husband were, annoyingly, on holiday that weekend in Norway and seemed to have taken their alarm clock with them. Forced to rely on my ancient English mobile held together by several layers of sellotape, my paranoid dreams woke me up 6 times during the night, frantic that I'd overslept and had missed the interview. Obviously I didn't.
Usually they don't do interviews on a Friday, but given my circumstances they'd made an exception. As a result there was only one other interviewee (also a Berry) whereas usually there would be six at a time. I guess this was to our benefit as part of the interview was a general conversation, discussing questions between us. Easier to manage the conversation and stand out when there are only two of you! In fact the interviewer seemed to be quite interested in what we had to say, even deviating from the script to ask our opinions about contemporary (educational) events. We also had to collaborate on a feedback task, which was fine, and furthermore there was a written assessment (something I hadn't done for about 7 years!) and a brief one-to-one interview.
All in all I left feeling pretty positive, which was great as it meant I could actually relax and enjoy myself that evening, with wine, good company and delicious homemade food round at Sam and Stu's. No too late a night of course, for while I had to get up early to make my flight back, Stu was off to Uganda on an even earlier flight - 4am!
When applying for a PGCE you do so through a website called GTTR - the teaching equivalent of UCAS if you will. So when the following Tuesday I received a notification that something had changed on my application status I logged in slightly nervously to check. "Unconditional offer". Just two words; I clicked accept. All in all a bit of an anticlimax I thought, after all the effort! Not quite willing to trust in two words on an unassuming website I emailed the department on a pretext (sending them my A level certificates which my parents had been searching for) just to check before I announced it to the world at large. Or, rather, Facebook.
So, there we go. Next September I'll be a student again, and, in all likelihood, rather poor: if I had done the PGCE this year I would have a got a £6,000 bursary. Next year, those studying to be English teachers won't. Bum!
As I type it's a beautiful, warm, if slightly windy day here in Madrid, as it has been for the past week. The blossom is out, and the park (Los Molinos) down the road smells beautiful. Food is fairly cheap, my work is fun, people are friendly, I get to spend lots of time with Kate and Rosie, and, most of all, we'll miss the friends we've made here when we head off. Next year is going to be tough - I've seen my reading list! - but in the end, I reckon it will be more than worth it.
Wednesday, 22 December 2010
The Pain in Spain falls mainly... - by Theo
...in my mouth.
It's been quite some time since I last went to the dentist. I don't trust the drill-happy buggers; the last one I had in Clifton (the Mall) talked me into having my wisdom teeth removed (expensive, painful, unnecessary) and filled my mouth with so much silver paste you wouldn't think there was enough tooth left to actually support a cavity. However, over the past few weeks one of my molars has developed a bit of an ache so, after the obligatory prevaricating and procrastinating (I was an arts student after all) I finally booked myself an appointment at a nearby health centre.
Typically my tooth then broke and stopped hurting. However, I felt I shouldn't see this as good news, so still went along to my appointment having learnt the Spanish words for 'filling' (empaste) and 'cavity' (carie). After a cursory glance the cheerful dentist said, "Yep, there's a cavity. So do you want me to pull it out for you?" When I replied in the negative, she explained that if I wanted a filling I'd have to go private as I couldn't get anything other than an extraction on the Health Service. I should expect to pay between 30 and 50 euros for a filling.
The dentist across the road from us quoted me €90, which I shied away from rapidly (it didn't hurt that much!) but I eventually found one nearby that would do it for €50. Still the top end of the scale I'd been quoted, but definitely better than the first place I went to.
Now, I'm not so sure. They immediately decided I needed a tooth reconstruction, which would be an extra €65; they are damned good at getting money out of you these dentists. Twenty minutes later, after lots of painful drilling despite the injection, I was done and €115 poorer. Still at least my tooth was fixed.
Later that night, while brushing my teeth, the pain from my newly fixed tooth nearly made my eyes water. The dull throb has been transformed into a searing pain when combined with a cold liquid. Great.
It's been quite some time since I last went to the dentist. I don't trust the drill-happy buggers; the last one I had in Clifton (the Mall) talked me into having my wisdom teeth removed (expensive, painful, unnecessary) and filled my mouth with so much silver paste you wouldn't think there was enough tooth left to actually support a cavity. However, over the past few weeks one of my molars has developed a bit of an ache so, after the obligatory prevaricating and procrastinating (I was an arts student after all) I finally booked myself an appointment at a nearby health centre.
Typically my tooth then broke and stopped hurting. However, I felt I shouldn't see this as good news, so still went along to my appointment having learnt the Spanish words for 'filling' (empaste) and 'cavity' (carie). After a cursory glance the cheerful dentist said, "Yep, there's a cavity. So do you want me to pull it out for you?" When I replied in the negative, she explained that if I wanted a filling I'd have to go private as I couldn't get anything other than an extraction on the Health Service. I should expect to pay between 30 and 50 euros for a filling.
The dentist across the road from us quoted me €90, which I shied away from rapidly (it didn't hurt that much!) but I eventually found one nearby that would do it for €50. Still the top end of the scale I'd been quoted, but definitely better than the first place I went to.
Now, I'm not so sure. They immediately decided I needed a tooth reconstruction, which would be an extra €65; they are damned good at getting money out of you these dentists. Twenty minutes later, after lots of painful drilling despite the injection, I was done and €115 poorer. Still at least my tooth was fixed.
Later that night, while brushing my teeth, the pain from my newly fixed tooth nearly made my eyes water. The dull throb has been transformed into a searing pain when combined with a cold liquid. Great.
Tuesday, 8 June 2010
Que casualidad! - by Theo
El mundo es muy pequena. Hoy, al guarderia en Calle Ibiza, encontramos una mujer que vivia abajo de nosotros en Bristol. Se llama Susie, nuestra vecina anterior, y lleva dos meses viviendo en Madrid con su marido y sus dos hijas en Arturio Soria, no lejos de nosotros. Que sopresa!
It's a small world. Today, at the playgroup in Calle Ibiza, we met a woman who used to live below us in Bristol. Her name is Susie, our old neighbour, and she's been living in Madrid for two months with her husband and two daughters in Arturo Soria, not far from us. What a surprise!
It's a small world. Today, at the playgroup in Calle Ibiza, we met a woman who used to live below us in Bristol. Her name is Susie, our old neighbour, and she's been living in Madrid for two months with her husband and two daughters in Arturo Soria, not far from us. What a surprise!
Monday, 24 May 2010
Going airborne By Kate
Okay, so I admit I am petrified of flying. In the past, the only thing that would get me inside a jet and up in the air was a generous dose of Valium. Given the choice, I would rather travel any other way except off the ground. But sometimes it just can't be avoided. An important family wedding and work-related time-constraints meant flying between Madrid and Bristol was the only sensible way to travel on this occasion. Unfortunately, because I'm breast-feeding, Valium is out of the question. Oh, and did we mention that we would also be bringing a 16 week-old baby, somewhat prone to over-tiredness and not always inclined to feed to order? I viewed the coming expedition with something akin to terror. A shame, as that rather overshadowed the pleasant anticipation I felt about attending Hermione and Richard's nuptials, but there wasn't much I could do about it.
So I duly dosed Rosie with a little infant paracetamol to hopefully help ease any pressure-change headaches, timed her penultimate feed so she would be ready for the next as we took off, put her in the sling and joined Theo, plus bulging rucksack, backpack and baby-bed, in a taxi for Madrid Barajas. Rosie fussed a bit in the taxi, which didn't bode well. I gritted my teeth and told myself it would all be over in just a few hours time.When we arrived, the man at the check-in desk cheerfully assured us the flight was on schedule. He was wrong. With sinking hearts we watched the red strip blinking on the departures board. Damn.
With Rosie still in the sling I set off on an extremely tedious walk involving repeated circuits of the boarding area. She was disconcertingly awake. My plan involved her at least having a reasonable nap so she wouldn't go into the long dark tunnel of overtiredness on the plane and be impossible (or at least, very difficult) to calm down.
It worked - eventually. By about the fifteenth circuit, Rosie had got bored of the lack of scenery and nodded off. I kept walking.After an hour, our plane came in and we lined up to get on board.
At this point Rosie woke up and let me know she was hungry. That was a nuisance, to put it plainly. The Flight Plan had involved her feeding during our ascent (and descent) so the swallowing would protect her from the discomfort of the pressure changes. But Rosie was threatening to make A Big Noise if her hunger wasn't satisfied and soon. I hesitated for a moment, then sat on a window sill while Theo kept our place in the queue and allowed her to start to feed. As it happened, she had to curtail her eating almost immediately as we were called to board. Fortunately, the distraction that involved meant she forgot to protest too vigorously about her interrupted meal.
Once ensconced in seats near the front, we fiddled with the infant seat-belting arrangement and got ready. We didn't have to wait long. With my flight-fear adrenalin shooting through me I felt the jet lift off and Rosie was able to resume her feed. Whether it was the calming hormones released by breast-feeding or my overriding concern for my daughter, I soon forgot to panic as we climbed to 38 thousand feet.
Once we were up and Rosie had finished feeding she started to fuss. "Here we go," I thought with sinking heart. As Rosie's wails started to reach a crescendo, a kindly member of the cabin crew took pity and suggested I take her into the galley area. With Rosie swaddled, dummied and hugged close into my chest I stood looking at the neat rows of aircraft snacks while rocking and shushing Rosie in my arms. Whether it was by these efforts, or the effect of the sound and motion of the plane, it worked. Within five minutes she had fallen asleep. I let out a breath and returned to our seat. Rosie then obligingly slept for the rest of the journey.
In fact, I had the devil's own job to rouse her sufficiently to get her to feed on the way back down - I joggled her and massaged her feet and ears in an effort to encouraging some sucking, feeling increasingly desperate as the pressure began to build up in my own ears. Just as I was on the point of giving up, Rosie suddenly got the idea of what was required of her and started to drink. Behind us another youngster started screaming. Rosie remained calm, sleepily sucking every few minutes as we flew over the Clifton Suspension Bridge and finally came into land.
Back in the sling, Rosie went straight off to sleep again as we collected our baggage and went out to our little welcoming committee of Theo's parents.
In fact, Rosie proceeded to calmly sleep her way through the car journey to Cirencester and after a brief awakening for a nappy change and feed, had a pretty decent night of it - as Theo and I gratefully grabbed some snoozing ourselves. Now I could look forward to the wedding.
...of which more in a later blog...
Having had one flight that was so much better than I could have hoped, I wasn't optimistic the second one would pass as tranquilly. It was bang in the middle of "evening fuss time", never an easy part of Rosie's and my day.
After an unsuccessful attempt at getting Rosie to sleep in her baby bed in the airport (we were ridiculously early - one of Theo's annoyingly over-efficient habits!!) I put her back in the sling and started doing circuits of the refreshments posts in Bristol's new terminal. The pattern at Barajas was thankfully repeated and after a while Rosie took a decent nap while I stopped off to chat to a couple of former work colleagues, who were awaiting a flight to Amsterdam and a pair of friendly middle-aged women who were about to go to Budapest.
Once again, we sat near the front. I almost blew the take-off feed when Rosie wanted to start supping ahead of schedule then, when I tried to buy a bit of time, roared her displeasure. Luckily (and this is a first) I managed to persuade her back on the breast where she obligingly stayed until we had reached our cruising altitude. So far so good.
Rosie was a bit too wakeful to be encouraged to sleep again so Theo and I distracted her with a nappy change on the spare seat in our row, then by waving a teddy at her and generally passing her back and forth between us until she started to fuss in her familiar "I'm tired now, Mother and Father" way.
Not feeling too hopeful, I swaddled her and repeated the dummy/rocking/shushing routine, this time in my seat. After ten minutes she was asleep. I felt cheered and distracted myself from my own flying anxiety by cuddling her, generally admiring her, feeling a bit pleased with myself and wishing I didn't have a streaming cold.
Once again, Rosie was very sleepy when I tried to get her to feed going down and once again she took a few swallows just at the critical moment. I wished I had someone to breast-feed me as the congestion I was experiencing with my cold meant my ears and head were feeling like a plunger was being gradually and painfully applied to them.
In an almost carbon copy of our previous landing, Rosie remained placid and dozy while we grabbed our stuff and put her back in the sling ready to head for home. I, meanwhile, had gone deaf. But given my fears - on my own account as well as Rosie's - I have to say that I passed the too least stressful flights of my life. Valium? Huh. Looking after a sixteen week-old baby is a far better way to get airborne without damp palms.
So I duly dosed Rosie with a little infant paracetamol to hopefully help ease any pressure-change headaches, timed her penultimate feed so she would be ready for the next as we took off, put her in the sling and joined Theo, plus bulging rucksack, backpack and baby-bed, in a taxi for Madrid Barajas. Rosie fussed a bit in the taxi, which didn't bode well. I gritted my teeth and told myself it would all be over in just a few hours time.When we arrived, the man at the check-in desk cheerfully assured us the flight was on schedule. He was wrong. With sinking hearts we watched the red strip blinking on the departures board. Damn.
With Rosie still in the sling I set off on an extremely tedious walk involving repeated circuits of the boarding area. She was disconcertingly awake. My plan involved her at least having a reasonable nap so she wouldn't go into the long dark tunnel of overtiredness on the plane and be impossible (or at least, very difficult) to calm down.
It worked - eventually. By about the fifteenth circuit, Rosie had got bored of the lack of scenery and nodded off. I kept walking.After an hour, our plane came in and we lined up to get on board.
At this point Rosie woke up and let me know she was hungry. That was a nuisance, to put it plainly. The Flight Plan had involved her feeding during our ascent (and descent) so the swallowing would protect her from the discomfort of the pressure changes. But Rosie was threatening to make A Big Noise if her hunger wasn't satisfied and soon. I hesitated for a moment, then sat on a window sill while Theo kept our place in the queue and allowed her to start to feed. As it happened, she had to curtail her eating almost immediately as we were called to board. Fortunately, the distraction that involved meant she forgot to protest too vigorously about her interrupted meal.
Once ensconced in seats near the front, we fiddled with the infant seat-belting arrangement and got ready. We didn't have to wait long. With my flight-fear adrenalin shooting through me I felt the jet lift off and Rosie was able to resume her feed. Whether it was the calming hormones released by breast-feeding or my overriding concern for my daughter, I soon forgot to panic as we climbed to 38 thousand feet.Once we were up and Rosie had finished feeding she started to fuss. "Here we go," I thought with sinking heart. As Rosie's wails started to reach a crescendo, a kindly member of the cabin crew took pity and suggested I take her into the galley area. With Rosie swaddled, dummied and hugged close into my chest I stood looking at the neat rows of aircraft snacks while rocking and shushing Rosie in my arms. Whether it was by these efforts, or the effect of the sound and motion of the plane, it worked. Within five minutes she had fallen asleep. I let out a breath and returned to our seat. Rosie then obligingly slept for the rest of the journey.
In fact, I had the devil's own job to rouse her sufficiently to get her to feed on the way back down - I joggled her and massaged her feet and ears in an effort to encouraging some sucking, feeling increasingly desperate as the pressure began to build up in my own ears. Just as I was on the point of giving up, Rosie suddenly got the idea of what was required of her and started to drink. Behind us another youngster started screaming. Rosie remained calm, sleepily sucking every few minutes as we flew over the Clifton Suspension Bridge and finally came into land.
Back in the sling, Rosie went straight off to sleep again as we collected our baggage and went out to our little welcoming committee of Theo's parents.
In fact, Rosie proceeded to calmly sleep her way through the car journey to Cirencester and after a brief awakening for a nappy change and feed, had a pretty decent night of it - as Theo and I gratefully grabbed some snoozing ourselves. Now I could look forward to the wedding.
...of which more in a later blog...
Having had one flight that was so much better than I could have hoped, I wasn't optimistic the second one would pass as tranquilly. It was bang in the middle of "evening fuss time", never an easy part of Rosie's and my day.
After an unsuccessful attempt at getting Rosie to sleep in her baby bed in the airport (we were ridiculously early - one of Theo's annoyingly over-efficient habits!!) I put her back in the sling and started doing circuits of the refreshments posts in Bristol's new terminal. The pattern at Barajas was thankfully repeated and after a while Rosie took a decent nap while I stopped off to chat to a couple of former work colleagues, who were awaiting a flight to Amsterdam and a pair of friendly middle-aged women who were about to go to Budapest.
Once again, we sat near the front. I almost blew the take-off feed when Rosie wanted to start supping ahead of schedule then, when I tried to buy a bit of time, roared her displeasure. Luckily (and this is a first) I managed to persuade her back on the breast where she obligingly stayed until we had reached our cruising altitude. So far so good.
Rosie was a bit too wakeful to be encouraged to sleep again so Theo and I distracted her with a nappy change on the spare seat in our row, then by waving a teddy at her and generally passing her back and forth between us until she started to fuss in her familiar "I'm tired now, Mother and Father" way.
Not feeling too hopeful, I swaddled her and repeated the dummy/rocking/shushing routine, this time in my seat. After ten minutes she was asleep. I felt cheered and distracted myself from my own flying anxiety by cuddling her, generally admiring her, feeling a bit pleased with myself and wishing I didn't have a streaming cold.
Once again, Rosie was very sleepy when I tried to get her to feed going down and once again she took a few swallows just at the critical moment. I wished I had someone to breast-feed me as the congestion I was experiencing with my cold meant my ears and head were feeling like a plunger was being gradually and painfully applied to them.
In an almost carbon copy of our previous landing, Rosie remained placid and dozy while we grabbed our stuff and put her back in the sling ready to head for home. I, meanwhile, had gone deaf. But given my fears - on my own account as well as Rosie's - I have to say that I passed the too least stressful flights of my life. Valium? Huh. Looking after a sixteen week-old baby is a far better way to get airborne without damp palms.
Sunday, 17 January 2010
2 years - a blog top ten
It suddenly struck us that it's been more than two years now since we started this blog - the first post was on January 1st 2008 - to document the preparations for our wedding for friends and family. A lot has changed; back then we were living in Bristol, working for the BBC (Kate) and REMIX (Theo). Now, 20 countries and 2 years later here we are, married, living in Madrid, working as English teachers and expecting our first child in a matter of weeks. Wow!
Anyway, we thought we'd be ridiculously self-indulgent and mark our blog's second anniversary with that evergreen journalistic conceit, a list. A top ten of our favourite blog posts, ideal for new and occasional readers, allowing them to skip the filler and get to the standouts. So, in no particular order, here are our top ten blog posts...
1. The Wedding report - pretty self-explanatory. Nothing written could ever really do justice to the emotions we felt and the amount of love our friends and family put in to making our day so special, but Kate's effort comes close.
2. Kate's CELTA blog - summing up our feelings about our CELTA course in Barcelona as we commenced our career as English teachers.
3. Grape-picking - what better way to celebrate your 27th birthday the day after a 12 hour road-trip than to get up at 7 and go grape-picking?
4. Berlin - we had an amazing few days, filled with culture, history, cheap wine, old friends and a DIY near-castration.
5. Arriving in Madrid - 36 hours on the road, tired, cold, grouchy and nervous about having nowhere to stay in a city where we didn't speak the language. Then a guardian angel called Cesar called...
6. Were we romantic or what!? - the first day of our honeymoon. Straight out of a Disney movie. Yeah, maybe one scripted by Judd Apatow...
7. San Isidro celebrations - going native in our new city.
8. The first of many - Kate begins getting to grips with Spanish pre-natal care. Or perhaps it's the other way around...
9. Sunday, Slovakian style - the beautiful villages of rural Slovakia and the... er.... colourful folk who live there...
and finally...
10. The random meetings - any self-respecting end-of-year/best-of list has to have the cop-out entry that includes references to items that didn't quite make it and thus manages to get more than 10 things on the list. This is it. If anything really made out travels special - and this blog worth reading - it was the random people we met. In Seville, Porto, Florence, Rocket, Estepona, Switzerland, Trieste, Nancy and so many other places, often leading us to stumble upon local celebrations and festivities we had no idea were taking place - Bianco Notti, graduation parades, flamenco, free opera and so on. Our trip, and our blog, wouldn't have been half as interesting without them, so this entry is for them.
Anyway, we thought we'd be ridiculously self-indulgent and mark our blog's second anniversary with that evergreen journalistic conceit, a list. A top ten of our favourite blog posts, ideal for new and occasional readers, allowing them to skip the filler and get to the standouts. So, in no particular order, here are our top ten blog posts...
1. The Wedding report - pretty self-explanatory. Nothing written could ever really do justice to the emotions we felt and the amount of love our friends and family put in to making our day so special, but Kate's effort comes close.
2. Kate's CELTA blog - summing up our feelings about our CELTA course in Barcelona as we commenced our career as English teachers.
3. Grape-picking - what better way to celebrate your 27th birthday the day after a 12 hour road-trip than to get up at 7 and go grape-picking?
4. Berlin - we had an amazing few days, filled with culture, history, cheap wine, old friends and a DIY near-castration.
5. Arriving in Madrid - 36 hours on the road, tired, cold, grouchy and nervous about having nowhere to stay in a city where we didn't speak the language. Then a guardian angel called Cesar called...
6. Were we romantic or what!? - the first day of our honeymoon. Straight out of a Disney movie. Yeah, maybe one scripted by Judd Apatow...
7. San Isidro celebrations - going native in our new city.
8. The first of many - Kate begins getting to grips with Spanish pre-natal care. Or perhaps it's the other way around...
9. Sunday, Slovakian style - the beautiful villages of rural Slovakia and the... er.... colourful folk who live there...
and finally...
10. The random meetings - any self-respecting end-of-year/best-of list has to have the cop-out entry that includes references to items that didn't quite make it and thus manages to get more than 10 things on the list. This is it. If anything really made out travels special - and this blog worth reading - it was the random people we met. In Seville, Porto, Florence, Rocket, Estepona, Switzerland, Trieste, Nancy and so many other places, often leading us to stumble upon local celebrations and festivities we had no idea were taking place - Bianco Notti, graduation parades, flamenco, free opera and so on. Our trip, and our blog, wouldn't have been half as interesting without them, so this entry is for them.
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