All Posts in "Month: June 2009"

Ferries arriving at Dover from the ContinentFinally, we put our English Heritage membership into use this weekend. We joined when we visited Battle Abbey, but we have not used it otherwise. But, when it came to debating our options for fun this weekend, we chose to spend the money on fuel rather than entrance fees. So, we went to Dover.

Unfortunately, the Tower Keep at Dover Castle was closed for renovations. To make up for this, they offered tours of the Medieval Tunnels. We decided to tour the Tunnels ourselves, but we did join in the tour of the Secret Wartime Tunnels (which you cannot tour at your own leisure). This month is also “Tudor Month”, which meant they had some learning activities related to the Tudors and the Medieval era for children, though it was entertaining for adults, as well.

The views from the castle grounds across the Channel from the look-out posts were spectacular. You could see France in the horizon, though, as the day progressed, dark clouds over the Continent blurred the vista. Aerial views of Dover Castle and the White Cliffs were inaccessible to us, however, so we had to content ourselves with a small side view of the cliffs. There were numerous ferries coming and going to the Continent.

The ruins of the Roman lighthouse still stand next to the restored Saxon church, which was deceptively spacious. I’ve been inside many large churches and found that the interior was quite small, possibly because of the construction of pillars and such on the inside. This church was relatively plain and the pews were pushed up against the walls, so it gave a more open atmosphere. Unlike the plain stone walls of Norman churches, these were tiled and painted in different designs (some looking rather Byzantine).

The Medieval Tunnels were on three different levels. On the first level, there was a spot, over which a grate protected the unwary visitor, where you could look down to the bottom. Yet, we never reached that spot when we went down the stairs, so I have no idea where that tunnel was. There were several dead ends and blind spots, not to mention the requisite spiral staircases. Perfect inspiration for a gothic romance, if I ever get to the point of writing one.[ad#ad-1]

The Secret Wartime Tunnels were definitely worth a visit. To imagine a large group of people living and working in such a close, confined environment seems incredible to us now. And, if the sample foods they had on display were indicative of their diet, it’s no wonder they managed to stay skinny back then. The tour began with a 10 minute video about the tunnels and the Dunkirk rescue as well as D-Day landings. How appropriate that we went this week-end. (How appropriate also that Henry Allingham turned 113 this week-end – we thought about sending him a card.) The tour guide made our Buppa 2nd in command, though she wouldn’t open her mouth to talk to him. Photography was not allowed, he stated at the beginning. Then, later he left us alone in the operation theatre saying he would be out for 20 seconds. When he returned, he warned that photography was not allowed in his presence. At the end, we were left to finish the tour at our leisure, where we could look into the telephone/telegraph/control rooms. Everything appeared in very good order, although he did tell us that the elevator was dodgy (a post-war addition). We were informed that there are parts of the tunnel that remain undiscovered since it was abandoned after the war. These must have been behind some locked doors because I could not appreciate any obvious secret passages. Oh, by the way, there is a quiz on how many steps on the spiral staircase. The answer is 72, though I counted 71 and my husband counted 73. We’ll have to do that again another time.

Yank by — June 8, 2009 in Leisure 1

All right, this has very little to do with Britain itself, but it’s too sweet a story not to tell.[ad#ad-1]

Our little Buppa, has been quite attached to her little Pooh Bear.  It’s a small teddy with beanie stuffing.  I can’t even remember who gave it to her.  Actually, I believe it may have been given to her older sister, but it has been her favourite for a long time.  What’s funny is that we never really attached any significance to her singling this teddy out.  Recently, she showed us a picture when she was in pre-school and they were allowed to bring in a teddy and it was this teddy.  She favoured it without showing too much favouritism.  However, near the end of the time we were in the States, she did use to bring it with her to the gym and all.  But, it was nothing like it has been since then.

When we came to the UK, Pooh was one of a select few that travelled with her, rather than being shipped over.  Since then, he has not left her side.  She sleeps with him, takes him everywhere, even to school.  She clung to  him the first day and they allowed her to bring him in, but leaving him in her school bag.  She was allowed to take him out for playtime, where some of the other kids occasionally abused him.  This upsets her sometimes.  But she continued to take him.

But, yesterday, she decided to keep him behind.  I asked if she wanted me to put him in the bag and she said ‘no’.  She were confused about that and wondered if a friend said or did something at school.  This morning, she bade him a long good-bye, and my husband asked why she wasn’t taking him.  She answered, “Because there might be a fire at school”.  Then we remembered that they had a fire drill in school two days ago.

We wondered what must have been going through her head when the drill went off and the teachers told them to file out, leaving all their belongings behind.  She must have been devastated to realise that in the event of a real fire, she would have to leave her beloved Pooh behind.  So, she has made the decision to leave him at home, where he would be safe.  We couldn’t possibly tell her that a fire could start just about anywhere.  I wonder what she’ll be like if and when she becomes a real mother (many, many, many years in the future, I hope).

Yank by — June 5, 2009 in My Journey 1

I’ve already mentioned the helpful motorists in times of need. Now, I’m moving on to the opposite end of the spectrum.  The rude, obnoxious drivers who inspire road rage in the best of us.[ad#ad-1]

We all know Britain has narrow roads, at least, much narrower than in the US.  I cannot compare it to any other European countries.  We understand that in order to get around as safely and effectively as possible, we all need to give and take, respect other drivers, and share the road.  For the most part, it works.  But, all too frequently, we run into a road hogger.  Yes, you know the ones I mean.  The ones who think they own the road and that everyone needs to bow to their needs.  They’re willing to risk crashing into you, though they drive like speed demons that they manage to get out of your way in that last split second.

Yesterday, we drove through a small town with said narrow road.  The street was made even narrower by cars parked on the right hand side.  Sometimes, we find that even with parked cars, there is sufficient room for two cars to move through, as long as you’re careful.  I say this because there have been times when people have not been careful and being too cautious, they give too much room to the parked cars and force us to scratch our wheels on the opposite kerb.  But, yesterday’s experience was beyond belief.

We were driving down the road with the parked cars on our right.  The street was too narrow for another vehicle to pass through (unless it was an obnoxious motorcycle, but that’s beside the point).  Up ahead, we see a lorry truck coming on.  But, instead of waiting behind the parked cars until we get through (which is the rule under the Highway Code) because we had right of way, he decides to come head-on against us.  Of course, we were forced to stop, and he knew it.  Our only other choice was to climb the pavement, but we wouldn’t have gotten very far, because there was a bus shelter where the truck stopped.  He refused to budge and we had to back up 200 ft. for his convenience.  After backing up a little way, there was sufficient room on the right between parked cars for the truck to move into, but he refused to move until we had backed completely up the road.  As we were backing up and he was standing there, several other cars moved behind him.  What were THEY thinking?  Of course, they couldn’t see us, but when the road is that narrow and you see a vehicle stopped in front on the opposite side, wouldn’t you pull off to your side to let things resolve themselves?  After all, you’re driving in contraflow traffic.

It would have been brilliantly clever if we could have somehow made our car break down at that particular moment.  What sweet revenge.  He would have been cursing high and low and we would have had to make all of them back up (which was a shorter distance than what we did). But, alas, cars have a mind of their own.  That truck driver was lucky we weren’t the type of people who would have given in to road rage to commit GBH.  Our rage merely consists of declaring how stupid some people can be.

Yank by — June 3, 2009 in My Journey 1

This weekend was the perfect example of the summertime British festivities. [ad#ad-1]

We were aware of one fayre in our general area, but would have been unable to make it due to other commitments.  Namely, Stagecoach.  But, when we arrived at the school for Stagecoach, the kids refused to go.  The older one was tired after her morning gymnastics practice and had a meet the next day.  The younger was really just feeling lazy and used her stomach as an excuse again. 

However, she had homework for the mid-term break, so we decided to stay in the town and get the homework done – it required mapping out one of the main streets.  Afterwards, they wanted ice cream.  We thought we’d stop for ice cream and they might change their minds about Stagecoach, since we were an hour early.  However, on our way to get ice cream, we drove through Lindfield, a small village surrounding Haywards Heath.  Right there in the center, was a fayre.  And a very proper and traditional British fayre it was.  Rides, games, stalls, tombola, raffles, fancy dress competition, and food.  Things missing were shows, races and physical competitions.

Needless to say, they wanted to stop for that.  In the midst of having fun in the fun house and spending money on games, they forgot about their ice cream.  That is, until we had to leave when we ran out of money.  They still refused Stagecoach, but they wanted their ice cream.

Next day, we had the gymnastics competition in Horsham.  Our daughter competed in the morning session (8:30-12:00), but she wanted to stay for the afternoon session to watch other teammates.  In the middle of it, she was tired and wanted to go outside to play.  I stayed to keep our seats, while my husband took the girls out for a short spell.  It was unbelievably hot and the younger one came in after a while saying she didn’t feel well because of the heat. 
However, there was a fun-fair right there in the park where the gym was.  I believe it was a charity event.  The kids wanted to stay after the competition to enjoy the fair, but we were exhausted, especially since we had only been snacking all day.  We needed real food and were not about to pay a lot of money on junk at the fair.

But this weekend showed us that we were entering the season of fun.  On the way to the gym, we saw signs for a horse show and another for a dog show.  All of this, happening in one weekend.  I hope we survive this summer without going bankrupt or dealing with too many tantrums.

Yank by — June 1, 2009 in British Culture 0