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This week was orientation/initiation week for the grade 8’s at Hudson Park High School. During this week they had to carry their school stuff in a garbage bag, the boys had to tuck the legs of their pants into their socks and wear their hair in a defined middle path. The girls had to start the week with 5 pony-tails in their hair and each day they were allowed to remove just 1. All the grade 8’s had to carry with them, a pet potato. They had to name it, give it an identity and it had to have a life story. If the matrics stopped them in the passages they had to tell the life story of the potato. By Thursday afternoon Mitchell’s potato had developed “gangrene” turned squishy and leaked all over his school bag. They started off on Monday afternoon meeting class teachers, finding their classrooms and getting all those administrative things out of the way, like being assigned to houses, getting books and lockers, etc. On Tuesday they were able to sign up for the various summer sports codes. The school offers almost every sport you can imagine – including mountain-biking, golf, surfing, and all the other usual sports like hockey, rugby, cricket, etc…. The number of activities is just too long to list. There is something for everyone. On Wednesday afternoon they had an inter-class cultural competition, including singing, drama, debating, etc. On Thursday afternoon they had an inter-class gala and sports day where they didn’t earn points of winning, but they got points for every person who participated. Friday was the culmination of the week’s activities. They had to return to school at 18:00 on Friday night for an all-night stay-awake and team building time. They started off the evening with a candle-lighting ceremony. This was undoubtedly one of the most amazing, most moving ceremonies I have ever attended. The grade 8’s filed into a pitch dark hall and stood in long rows facing the stage, where a huge flame flickered in a brass cauldron. The prefects walked onto the stage and lit candles and passed the light from one to another down the line. Once all the prefect’s candles were lit they walked down to the grade 8’s and started lighting their candles. One by one, as the candles were lit, the dark hall became more and more illuminated. The symbolism of this was as follows: If you stand alone your one little candle will only produce enough light for you alone, but stand shoulder to shoulder with your fellow pupils and together your combined efforts and your talents can make the school shine. The hall glowed with the light of 230 candles. At this point the parents left and the all-night stay-awake continued. They learnt the school war-cry, sang songs, played games, got to know each other and the teachers. There was a completely different sense in the hall this morning when we collected Mitchell. You could see a team at work. Congratulations to Hudson Park High School on building a wonderful tradition and a clearly successful team-building time!

Yes, I am back! I always knew that I would write this particular blog and I have looked forward to it, but I had decided to wait for at least a month after being back in South Africa, so that I could gauge people’s reactions and try to find out where the truth stops and the myths begin.

What I would like to do it dispel some of the myths about England that I find in so many people, but I know that no matter how many words I put down in this blog tonight, some will never be willing to see the other side of England, and I respect that, but take a minute to try and understand that every place in this world was meant for someone and even if the UK is not the place for you, try to see why it is for someone else.

To say to me: “I once spent 3 days in London and I could never live in England” is like saying: “I once spent a day in Umtata and South Africa is the worst place on earth”. England can no more be judged by London than South Africa can be judged by Umtata. Firstly, I would like to say that I believe London itself is one of the most beautiful cities I will ever have had the pleasure of visiting. It is ancient and modern, it is vibrant and alive, and it is both metropolitan and chic. It has the world’s most beautiful parks, architecture, and history. It is efficient, clean, and safe (for the most part), it has top-notch modern transport systems, it is multi-cultural, and it is accepting and forgiving at the same time. In London you can be posh or you can just be plain old Jane, but not matter who you are you will find a place for yourself amongst its quintessential streets. It is a place for tourists and business folk, for school-children hungry for knowledge, for runners and cyclists, for walkers and for me… the tube system J. London is ever-growing; new buildings are rising up to create a new modern skyline, old buildings get tasteful new looks without tearing them down and starting anew. The old is respected and stands proud alongside the new. (Perhaps there is a lesson in there for South African politicians.) London is flowers in springtime, it is snowflakes in winter, and it is a shower of leaves in autumn and a sprinkling of new life on every branch in spring. It is squirrels in the park, boats on lakes and buskers to fill your day with music. It is and always will be, “my beautiful city beside the Thames”.   

BUT!! England cannot be defined by London.

England has thousands of square miles of the most beautiful open countryside. It is a kaleidoscope of greens for most of the year and linked together with the most quaint little country roads. The rural side of England is the images from your childhood storybooks; it is the stuff of dreams. It is ancient buildings – all wonky and leaning to one side; it is castles and cobble-streets, foxes and badgers, squirrels, ducks and rabbits. Think of the images from the storybooks you read as a child and those pages comes alive in rural England. It is lakes with ducks and walks along rivers, it is friendly country folk that smile and greet as they walk past, it is castles on the hilltop and stately old manor-houses, it is miles and miles of open farmland with wooden gates where you are free to walk and get lost amongst the crops. It is made up of buildings with the most romantic old names carved in wood on the weathered facades. It is the smell of log-fires in winter with smoke sneaking out of the chimney-pots. This is rural England, beautiful, peaceful and homely.

Then there is the weather, that dreaded English weather! And therein lays another myth. To say to me: “England is just grey skies all year around”, is like saying: “The freezing cold Cape Town winter rainfall is all that defines South Africa’s weather”. Forget that Durban is blazing hot in the winter, that the Highveld has the most beautiful sunny days or that East Londoners still go to the beach in the middle of winter on those days when the “Berg” winds blow and the temperatures reach 28 degrees. Living in Kent, in the south of England, meant day after day of sunny blue skies. Yes, in the north of England it is different, but then Cape Town’s weather is different to Durban’s. You cannot define an entire country’s weather, simply by looking at one region. I have been back in South Africa for a month now and I have experienced exactly 2 days that perhaps just measure up to the sunny days that I had in Kent. Of course the South African summer is coming, and I am sure there will be many more. J

The people of England: Well to be quite honest, who are they? They are Australian and South African, Nigerian and Pakistani, they are the Polish and Czech, they are eastern and western, they are the people represented by the United Nations. Every country is represented and reflected in the people on the streets of England. They are Catholic and Anglican, Protestant, Muslim and agnostic, they are fat and thin and everything in-between. England is made up of a diverse multi-cultural group of people. They have come from every corner of the world and somehow managed to fit together in a society that works just fine. I would like to say that before leaving for the UK, many people said to us: “Don’t seek out other South Africans. Rather try to make friends from other groups of people”, but the truth for us was that the South Africans just tend to stick together. We are a somewhat different bunch of people with a unique pride in our heritage and more than anything, the South Africans will open their homes to you, invite you in, call to see if you are doing ok, they share a common bond not only in nationality, but in all aspects of culture.

I do however feel that schooling and the teenagers in England are a huge social problem. Government primary school standards are way below South African model-C schools. There is a blatant lack of discipline and a frightening teacher-apathy (if I can call it that). Teenagers seem to cluster together in parks after school with little or nothing to do but stand around. Being back in South Africa this past month, I have spent some time at Nahoon beach and on many an afternoon I have watched groups of teenagers heading onto the beach, laughing, happy, dressed in bright board-shorts and colourful t-shirts, carrying footballs and freebies, boogie-boards and kites. They are out in the fresh air, having fun, enjoying life, none of them were smoking, they were out to run on the sand and exercise their bodies. I never heard bad language or witnessed a fight break out, I never saw anyone too afraid to look at them for fear of getting attacked. I do want to add here that Mitchell has been in the most amazing school in England with an incredible bunch of boys, but unless you are one of the selected few to make it into grammar school in the only 5 counties that have grammar schools, you are going to be swept up and tossed out in the wave of UK-teenagers and quite easily become lost in the crowd.

There are still many negative myths that I have not even touched on this evening, like “England’s small houses” and “No gardens”, but perhaps I will write about them next time. All I ask of you today is to think about the ideas you may have in your mind of England, and understand that there is another side, a beautiful side, a side reflected in storybooks. From the monotone colours of winter to the brilliant greens of summer, England is… fantastic, and my time spent there will always bring back wonderful memories of a country I find so fascinating.

It was the 4th July 2009 when the wheels of that plane lifted from the ground in South Africa and a long flight to Heathrow began. Tonight it is exactly one year ago.

When I wake up in the morning, I will have lived in England for 1 year.

Looking back on the past year, I struggle to conceptualise how much can change in one year. This blog has been a one-year diary of moments of our time in England, but all things change and so too should the focus of this blog.

I will continue to document and diarise some of the brighter moments as they happen and continue to add photos, but I would like the blog to grow and to evolve with the changing time and seasons.

I may begin to write more than once a week and there may be times when I will write less frequently, but I will continue to post the blog reminders at the usual spots.

All-in-all, this year has passed by so fast.   

To the friends in the UK who have helped so much in the past year; Steven, Melanie and Duncan, Mike and Jo, James, Philip, Steph, Amanda and Justin,….

and to Mikes family, Tracy, Rodger, James and Kirstin and Rodgers family,…

thank you all for all that you have done to make the past year what it has been.

To my friends and family back in SA who continue to stay in touch, I miss you all every single day.

Wooooo! Summer finally came to England, in all its HUMID, awesome wonder. Good golly, there are sunburnt people all over the place. (Note to me:  It’s time to tan!)

Today was Jenna’s 1^st Holy Communion in the Catholic Church. It was a beautiful hot sunny day, a beautiful service and Jenna looked so pretty. She has been preparing for this at catechism classes for a year now. So how do I feel about it? Well this piece of the blog promises to do 1 of two things. It will garner the understanding of those who agree with it and it may anger or alienate those who don’t. Mitchell took his first holy communion in East London, a few months before he turned 12 (and we had held him back 1 year, at that). A lot of Catholic churches in South Africa do it at that age. I don’t know if they all do it, or if it was just the Diocese of Port Elizabeth, under which St Patricks fell that did it at that age, but the reality of the situation is this… Mitchell was old enough to try and understand, to question, to make choices, to make up his mind. Jenna and the other little children in her group are only about 7 years old. Many of them didn’t know how to shake hands and receive their certificates in front of the camera, some couldn’t remember where to stand or when to sit, how to kneel, or when to clasp their hands together. So how do children of that age understand what they are doing when they “partake of the body and blood of Christ”? It is my opinion that it makes it seem forced. It makes it feel as if understanding is less important than simply doing. This is one of the sacraments of the Catholic faith which is not taken lightly. It follows on from the promises parents make at baptism and is a precursor for all other sacraments to come. These children are not presented by their parents as at baptism, they walk up to that alter, so how can it be done at a time when most children simply cannot understand it? So the questions I am left with tonight are: Why did we let Jenna partake? Why did we succumb to the pressure? We are certainly old enough to have asked why, to have questioned, to have made up our minds. Someone said to me recently that if you live in a place where people call a “jersey” a “jumper” you should embrace the new vocabulary and say “jumper” too, in other words we should “fit in”. So in SA Jenna would have waited a few more years, she would have attended more catechism classes and grown into an informed understanding, but when in Rome…… !

I am not disappointed that Jenna took communion today. I simply ask…. What did she understand by what she did today?… and when I ask her that question, I am not totally convinced.

This week I want to explain this formula to you [3xA4, 3/60, 24]. I posted it as a status on my facebook profile this week in the hope that someone would question it, and unsurprisingly, nobody did. We tend to shy away from asking things in a public domain when we fear that we might look foolish for not understanding. The truth is, I wanted someone to ask so that I could have explained it there, where people who do not read this blog would have seen it.

Some years back, I went on a team-building function with a selected group of people from the office I was working in at the time. We all went down to the Mpekweni resort on the SE Coast. It was one of those sessions led by an independent facilitator. We walked into the conference room on the first day and lying on each of our desks were 3 pieces of A4 paper [3xA4]. He asked us to roll each of them up into a tight ball and to place them alongside each other in front of us on our desks. He would tell us later what they were for. Obviously it bugged us for the next few minutes as we waited to find out the purpose of those 3 paper balls. The facilitator then said to us that when we convened the following day, we would be able to juggle. All it took was 3 dedicated minutes out of every hour [3/60]. It was imperative that if we just practiced for 3 minutes out of every 60 we would be able to achieve it within 24 [24] hours. (Now you have the formula that I believe in so much). No way were any of us going to believe that we would be able to juggle in 24 hours! We stood up at our seats and he showed us the technique very briefly, and then simply left it there! He had given us the tools we needed to succeed. We broke for drinks and toilet breaks and to stretch our legs every hour of that day (for a reason no doubt) and every hour I would grab those 3 balls, go and stand outside and try to juggle for 3 minutes. At first it was a disaster and I thought that all I would end up with was a sore back from bending down and retrieving the balls that fell on the floor all the time. Even when we met for dinner in the hotel restaurant that night, my 3 white paper balls were in my handbag. When other people were running off the bar to get more drinks, I would sneak out and try again, and again. By breakfast time the next morning I realised that not many people had taken up the challenge to learn to juggle. Most had not practiced once; some had tried with a half-hearted giggle and then thrown in the towel… I knew how far I had come, and all the way through breakfast I relished the chance to show them. We met in the conference room for the start of day 2 and it was time to see who could juggle. Some could throw once or twice, but that was about all. I walked calmly to the front of the room and stood with my back to the group… and… I juggled. When I packed my stuff to move to the UK I held those 3 white balls in my hand and decided that I would pack them and take them with me, and tonight as I write this blog, sitting in the living room in England, I have those very same three white balls on the table next to me. They are simply 3 pieces of A4 paper which are scrunched up tightly, but to me they are the belief that when I put my mind to something, I can and will achieve it. For me, [3xA4, 3/60, 24] means that that which seems unattainable is possible.

So, as I set out tomorrow on week-3 of my “couch to 10km’s” of training, I will know in my heart… 3xA4, 3/60, 24!

(That which seems unattainable is possible).     

PS: I tried to juggle tonight and although I am a little rusty, I still have it!

Today is the longest day of the year in the Northern Hemisphere and if you go back and read my blog from the start of spring you will see that I wrote something like “Was that it? Was that really the best winter could dish out at us?”, but now I am asking – Where is the summer? I guess I expected the winter to be bleak. Everyone had painted such a terrible image of it, that when it was over I was left thinking – “Ok, was that it?” but now I am starting to lose hope that we will ever have a summer. I know I can’t expect the bright hot African summer that I am used to, but we are seldom even making it into the 20’s. So, if someone finds the summer lying around, looking lost somewhere, could you please bring it to England. [superemotions file="icon_smile.gif" title="Smile"] I think it’s not the winter that is depressing, its the fact that you don’t get a summer.  Mitchell did say to me yesterday… “don’t worry mom, I am sure it’s still on its way”.

Roxi is still chewing her way methodically through the house. I had forgotten just how puppies can chew, and this little one is relentless. This week she destroyed my mobile phone charger and the mouse from my laptop, she steals our socks and buries them in the garden, she raids the laundry bin, nothing is out of bounds, anything that she can get her teeth around is free game, but she is energetic, fun and playful and she makes Mitchell and Jenna laugh a lot.

Jenna’s horse-riding is coming along so nicely. She had a wonderful lesson on Sunday afternoon. The beauty of this means that perhaps the “lead rein” role might be able to end sooner than later. It must be wonderful to sit on that elevated level and look down on your parents running next to the horse, dodging the huge piles of recycled grass. At the moment the lessons focus on the children being able to maintain their balance in a trot. As the horse speeds up she must be able to rise and sit in sync with the horse, so that she does not fall off.

Mitchell has ended up with the World Cup Soccer leaving somewhat of a bitter taste in his mouth. National pride and supporters vibe is one thing, and known only too well to South Africans who usually shamelessly display their support for their team or their favoured player, but Mitch has ended up in the unfortunate position of being the victim of mob-mentality at school at the moment. 5 boys in his class have targeted him and are relentless in their contempt and disdain for South Africa. It reached a point this week where Mitchell didn’t want to go to school. He just felt like he couldn’t take another day of it. He said that it wasn’t so much what they were saying about South Africa that got to him, but rather how it just went on and on, even during the lessons they would turn around and shout at him about it. I suspect it must be rough to be the 13yr old “lone wolf”. He no longer even wants to watch the matches, because he knows that no matter what happens he will face the wrath of the mob the following day. This does of course mean that I have changed my allegiance and beyond my support of South Africa (Bafana Bafana), I secretly hope that the England team will be on a flight home sooner than later – but that’s only the maternal me, the lioness.

My “couch to 10k” program is wonderful. One thing about getting motivated to start a new exercise routine is that you probably won’t succeed if you do it alone, and although I AM doing this alone, I have this electronic voice in my headphones attached to my iPhone, which tells me when to run and when to walk. I have never been a runner and quite frankly never really saw the joy in it, and even though I have done a few short runs here and there, I just never really got why people do it, but when you can see the actual results (even within 1 week), when you can see that the distance you ran last week (that almost killed you) can now be done without even getting out of breath, it is motivational on its own.

On Saturday Jenna’s school had their Summer Fair. Mitchell volunteered to be the target of Jenna’s sponge-throwing endeavours. I think he underestimated the power and accuracy of her throwing arm. It was a fun afternoon of games and English tea and scones on the lawns of the school.

The school year is fast drawing to a close over here and lots of fun activities are planned. I am glad we moved Jenna when we did instead of waiting until the start of the new school-year. It has given her time to settle in with new friends and become part of a lot of activities. She has surprisingly taken to athletics like a bug to a light. Mitchell too has a musical evening coming up at his school entitled “Music from Musicals”. He will be playing as part of the guitar club ensemble. 

It’s the middle of June; it’s almost the middle of the year. Do you remember just the other day when you were opening Christmas presents and celebrating New Year? Well we are now half-way to the next one already. If you think you just packed away the Christmas decorations, let me tell you, it won’t be long and you will be dusting them off, and getting them out again. In 1 weeks time the sun starts to move away from us again and our beautiful long days will start to get shorter. It is incredible how the clear definitions and boundaries of time over here make the year fly by so fast. In South Africa (well, in East London at least) where there is not a strong contrast in the seasons, they all seem to mush together and become one long year…. but divide that year up into 4 distinct time frames and all of a sudden you see time passing by your eyes at lightning speed.

The highlight of this week (well the one that I didn’t miss, at least) was without a doubt, the Bon Jovi concert at the 02 arena in London. I have been an avid Bon Jovi junkie for years now and I have always said that I would give anything to attend one of his live concerts. We arranged the tickets months ago and this date has been looming on my calendar for ages now. Jon Bon Jovi is not just a magnificent songwriter, guitar player and musician, he has the most incredible philosophies on life and humanity and he is not afraid to express them in the media and on stage. The concert was absolutely unbelievable and I wish I could put into words just how spectacular I thought it was. It was powerful and exciting, loud and alive; in general, it was just a masterpiece of music.

This week also saw Jen start at her new school. Private schooling in the UK is very expensive and they private schools are the equivalent of our former model-C schools in SA. Jenna is very happy. She is already far more organised than she was at the previous school, she gets up in the morning much happier and ready to face her day. The school day is very long, starting at 08:25 and ending at 16:00. The nice thing though is that they play sport. Jenna has already played her first rounders match against another school and I was surprised to see just how well she can whack that ball. I guess she must have some of her grampa’s Border baseball skills.

My car is finally fixed! Seems like I did more damage to it than we had thought. The new exhaust manifold arrived in the mail this week and I finally got my car back on Saturday. What did we ever do before online shopping? Imagine this? You can go onto the internet, put in the details of the make and model of your car, then sit back and wait as the sms messages start arriving with price comparisons from various dealers. You pick the one you want, order the part and wait for the postman to deliver it.

Mitchell is going to be part of his guitar-clubs concert in the next few weeks. At the moment he is working on the chords for “House of fun”. He and I started running this evening. We have decided that we need to get fitter and lose some of this winter covering that we have gained. He is so funny to run with and I don’t know how he can run and talk so much when I can barely breathe.

The world cup soccer started this week and who could miss the deafening howl of the vuvuzelas? You see them on TV, at the matches, in the streets, and now we have them in the supermarkets in the UK. It certainly is a distinctly African World Cup and I think that so far South Africa has a lot to be proud of. For me, it is just wonderful to see the reminders on TV of just how beautiful SA is, how extraordinarily vibrant the people are, and how much potential the country has. For those of us living outside of the borders of SA, whether you like football (soccer) or not, I think perhaps we are missing out on something quite spectacular.

This week marks 11 months that we have lived in the UK. 1 more month and we would have been here for an entire year. When you think about the 5 years needed to get your British citizenship, it seems like it is forever, but then you wake up and all of a sudden one of those years has just incredibly passed you by.

This week was half-term and we started off on Monday with a trip to Buckinghamshire to visit our friends and enjoy a wonderful lunch and a walk in the hills. It was the first time we took Roxi on a bit of a road trip, and we did not know what to expect, but she travels like a dream. We arrived in Buckinhamshire to a wonderful day and a wonderful lunch with Steven, Melanie and Duncan. We took Meg (springer spaniel) and Roxi for a walk in the hills and Roxi walked like a dream. She is a really awesome little puppy and a testament to her breed. Nose to the ground, walking next to us, she was the perfect little tracking, hunting dog. Steven and Melanie have recently acquired an allotment near their home and I was so surprised at Mitchell and Jennas reaction to it. They both want to start gardening vegetables and fruit. I think I will start them off with troughs of small things in our garden and see how well they do, before setting them lose on a larger area. Jenna is hoping for an invitation to go and pick stuff in the allotment when it is ready (hint, hint)

The rest of the week was spent doing things in and around our area. It was a very busy week and seeing that my car (that I drove over a tree stump last weekend) is still out of commission, it meant that we had to juggle everything around one vehicle. The mechanic says that I have cracked the exhaust manifold on the car and the hunt has now started to find a replacement option.

Jenna starts at her new school tomorrow. She looks absolutely beautiful in her new uniform.  I am so proud of how resilient she is. She is so excited about the move.

Mitchell played a cricket match this morning on what must be one of the most beautiful cricket pitches I have seen here in England. It is locacted in the village of Withyham and is surrounded by woodlands on most sides, the cricket field has a farm with Shetland ponies on the one side and a field with pheasants and rabbits on the other. Mitchell is only 12 but he played for the u/15 team and scored what was a very proud 8 (NOT OUT!).

Yesterday we went to a real South African braai at Amanda and Justins house. Complete with boerewors and Chakalaka we were just missing the putu pap. South African music blared from the stereo in the window and “Sharks shirts” were the order of the day. It was a beautiful day in the sunshine amongst fellow Saffas. The men headed off to the nearby pub to watch the rugby match between SA and Wales. Braai fires, sunny skies, and a rugby match to finish it off. Could this be the recipe for a true South African man’s dream.

So the highlight of the coming week for me must surely be the BON JOVI concert on Friday night at the 02 arena in London. We will be meeting Mike and Jo and I must admit upfront… I am like a little girl waiting for Santa!

I just watched a program on TV here: “Piers Morgan on the South African World Cup”. I am proud of South Africa and what they have put together for the world cup. There certainly seems to be an incredible vibe in the country at the moment, and although I cannot be there to share it, it is wonderful to follow it in the posts on Facebook and to see it advertised everywhere. I hope that the weeks ahead can be a flagship moment for South Africa and that the country will use the opportunity to its fullest.

Well, the highlight of this week must undoubtedly be Mitchell’s week in France. It was a year-7 trip to Paris. The boys travelled to Paris in 4 coaches on the EuroStar channel tunnel. They stayed in a hotel on the Seine River in Paris. I was so surprised at some of Mitchell’s favourite recollections of the trip. I asked him what the highlight of the trip was for him, resigning myself to the fact that I knew the answer was going to be “Disney Land”, but for Mitchell it was the Eiffel Tower. He also took note of things along the route that I never suspected he would notice. He saw the Vimy Ridge Memorial and this certainly seems to have struck a chord with him. He sent us a text message as soon as he had passed it, and when he got home he related the story to us with so much feeling. The boys visited the Arc de Triomphe and although they could not go down the Champs Elysees as French farmers were protesting with tractors and had even laid down a false lawn along the road, they were able to see and experience so many things. More than anything, Mitchell made new friends on this trip and he felt a new sense of responsibility. I know it was only a week, but he seems to have come home, older, wiser and if I am not mistaken, maybe even a little taller.

This week also saw the end of Jenna’s time at the primary school she has attended for the past year. It is half-term break now and as soon as the schools reopen next week, Jenna will start at one of the private schools near us. She is so excited and absolutely delighted. It does mean that this week will be spent once again, shopping for school uniforms. She received the most amazing send-off from her friends at the school she is leaving. She has made some really good friends this year and we will all have to work hard at making sure that she stays in contact with them.

Today Mitchell played a cricket match in Edenbridge for the Bidborough Colts team. Driving through Hildenborough on the way to the field, a camera speed-trap went off on the side of the road and I suspect it was directed straight at ME! It means a fine and points against my licence, but that was not the worst to come. I arrived at the cricket field and as I was parking my car I drove over a sawed off tree-trunk that was sticking out of the ground. The sound was terrible and I immediately reversed to get off of the stump. I suspect this did even more damage. I got out and inspected the car and it did not appear that there was any visible damage, but when it was time to leave, the damage became evident. I suspect I have either ripped a hole, the size of a crater, into the exhaust or broken the manifold. My car sounds like an ancient tractor and it is a fight to engage the gears. Philip was spending the day with us, so Mike drove my car home and I went home with Philip. Mitchell’s team won the match and apart from my motor vehicle issues, it was a good day out in the warm May sunshine.

What is family? Are your family the people with whom you share DNA? Are your family the people you see every day of your life and are they defined as such simply because they live in the same house as you? I grew up with a very special person in my life. He stayed in our house for a few years and then moved to rent the house next door to us. He has always been a part of my life. Growing up without a father in my life, “Uncle Ivan” became the person who filled that role for us. He was the one who fixed the punctures on my bike; he was the one who drove with my mom late at night to fetch me from Numbers Dance club or parties I had attended. He was always at my school concerts and most often would sit right up in the front row. He killed snakes and spiders in our back yard, he sat with us until late on summer evenings and watched the setting sun, and he brought us our Christmas tree every year and watched as we decorated it. He spent every Christmas with us, whether we were at home or away on holiday, he taught my son to ride a bike and how to climb a tree. He is the type of person who could never say a bad word about anyone. He would fetch me from school on rainy days so that I didn’t have to walk, he would sit by the side of the field when I played a hockey match or marched in a drummie competition. He was at our house the night of my matric farewell and he sat in the front of the church on my wedding day, he told the funniest stories of his life as a young boy and the things he would get up to at school. When Mitchell did a school project on his family tree two years ago, we included Uncle Ivan and a photo of him, with the caption “Grandpa on loan”. The day I left South Africa I went around to his house to say goodbye but he was not there, and I left without saying goodbye. When I went back in September, I again went around to his house and there was no response to my knocks at the door. This week I received the news from his daughter, that he is now very frail; he has had a few strokes and is spending his days alone at home. He may not have been my biological dad, but he was a father to me. I have never met another person, who so simply “gave without condition”, and I doubt that I ever will.

Uncle Ivan is a part of our family, not because of genetics, but simply because he is.

Wow! What a fantastic weather-weekend it was. Summer has finally arrived. It’s like the weather over here knows exactly when it is meant to change. Not too soon and not too late. It’s almost as if it can read the calendar and it gives us just what we are meant to have. We bought a Weber-braai this weekend so that we could have smokey charcoal fires, in real home-grown SA style and we finally got to sit out in the garden in the baking hot sun.

This week Mitchell heads off to France on a school trip. He is having an understandable mixture of excitement and trepidation. He will be visiting Sacre Coeur Basilica, Disneyland Resort, Champs Elysees, Arc de Triomphe, Palace of Versailles, Louvre museum, Notre Dame Cathedral and the, Eiffel Tower, They will be taking a boat trip on the river Seine, visiting Calais, as well as lots of French restaurants and shopping centres. (Note to Mitchell: Remember moms gift!)

Jenna had another riding lesson this week and as the other children in her group did not arrive, she had an impromptu one-on-one private lesson. This week she asked that Mike take the lead rein. I wasn’t complaining as it was the hottest weekend we have had, so I got out of the run around the arena in the heat.

Jenna attended another taster day this week at a local private school and we have decided that it is the one for her. She even went with her year group to play a rounders match against another school in Tunbridge Wells. This means that she only has 1 more week at her current school as we are moving her to the new school immediately after the half-term break.

On Friday evening while Jenna was at gymnastics I took my camera and headed out into the fields around East Peckham to take a few photos. The beautiful yellow fields of the rapeseed (for Canola oil) seem to be coming to an end now, but there are still a few magnificent fields that look like a yellow ocean. I parked my car in a little tree-covered lane and walked around the village and into the farms. I walked into a church yard and there was a headstone for a baby that born in 1967 but had only lived for 2 days. The grave was neat and adorned with fresh flowers and I stood for a moment staring at it and wondering who still places those flowers there? After all those years, someone still cares enough to remember a soul that only lived for 2 days.  That is what it is like when life HAS NO price-tag attached to it, when life has meaning and it is simply, not cheap.

South Africa faces being under a huge microscope in the next couple of weeks. The eyes of the entire world will be on the spectacle that is the Soccer World Cup. Not since the abolishment of apartheid, have South Africans needed to stand together and prove to the world that the “rainbow nation” was not just a catch phrase, that South Africa is not just another African-continent disaster story, and that it can be seen to stand proud alongside other powerful nations in the world. I had coffee with my friend Amanda this week. Her, and her family have been living here for about 10 weeks. Her in-laws live in Kloof, near Durban. Last Friday night 2 men entered their home  and for 1 hour and 45 minutes they beat and robbed Amanda’s in-laws. They are just two simple law-abiding folk in their 60’s, who were spending a Friday evening at home, but their world was turned on its head when they were brutally beaten in their own home. Why the violence? Why the terror? Why do criminals in SA have to torture and abuse people, sometimes for hours on end? If they have to rob someone for a mobile phone, a radio, money, or a car, why not just take what they want and leave? Why the terror? Why the brutality? That is what it is like when life HAS a price-tag attached to it, when life means very little and it is simply, cheap.

 Someone posted a link on Facebook today. It was a BBC news story about “How dangerous SA is” and it quoted statistics, had many comments from readers and even had a neat little graph, but the truth behind those statistics is a frightening daily reality for thousands of people. Every country has its good and its bad, and someone once said to me, “it all comes down to how much of the good and the bad you are willing to live with”.

Amanda’s in-laws are now selling the home they have lived in for so many years and are forced, out of fear and terror, to move to a gated enclosed complex, with no guarantees that the same thing won’t simply happen there again. Their lives are being dictated to by the criminals. It feels very different when it is real, tangible, when you can look into someone’s eyes over a cup of coffee and talk about it happening to family. It feels very different to reading statistics in a graph.

I hope that SA can host a World Cup that we can all be proud of, but I hope so much more, that life in SA will someday become priceless.

This week Roxi joined us! She is a nine week old beagle, and in the words of the vet: “You got a BEAGLE?!?! Don’t worry, she will settle down, when she is about 6!” She is ultra-cute though and a real little live-wire. She is doing the typical puppy things, like chewing on everything from shoes to furniture and everything in between. We had to leave Rex and Milo back in SA when we moved to the UK, but Jenna has been desperately in need of a pet to care for and after an agreement with the landlords we were allowed to get a dog.

Roxi is now the ruler. Everyone knows it!! But in all seriousness though, she is as cute as a button and I think that as she grows into a beautiful dog she will certainly bring Jenna a lot of joy.

Jenna attended a taster day at a prospective new school this week. She went for the whole day and absolutely loved it. The entire school, from reception to year-6 only has 135 children. It is situated in the most beautiful old building with new modern classrooms built at back of the property. When she came home and I asked her what her favourite part of the day was, she said, “The two science experiments and the puddings at lunchtime”.  She has 1 more taster day to attend this week, at another school and then a decision can be made about when and where she will move to.

Mitchell and his friend Tom have been spending a lot of time together over the past few weeks. They are busy with the plans for a down-hill racer they want to build in our garage. When Mitch came to me this week and said he would need the use of the garage for a few weekends, I thought his new-found band would be moving in to rehearse in the garage, but fortunately it appears that he and Tom need it as an automotive assembly plant. Tom will be one of Mitchell’s room-mates on their trip to France next week and I am just delighted that Mitchell has found such an awesome friend.

Jenna went to her second horse-riding lesson this week, and I remind you that it is the job of the parent to hold the lead-rein and walk (and trot, and sprint) next to the horse. Well last week we had Briar, a very spritely little pony (someone said it looked more like a donkey), but this week we had Scooby. Scooby was about double the size of Briar and it dawned on me that I was going to have to run around next to this giant horse. It is a lot of fun though and the parents end up laughing more at ourselves than anything,  especially when you happen to be right behind a horse that suddenly decides to “let go” on the track of the arena, and you don’t see it, and step in it!

Mitchell took a really nasty fall this afternoon, he ran to get something out of the car and decided to jump the low front wall of the property like it was a hurdle in an athletics meeting, but he jumped too late and ended up smashing both his shins into the brick wall and then falling over the wall onto the pavement on the other side. I can’t even try to imagine the pain he felt. His shins are pretty bashed up.

Next week this time, Mitchell will be packed and ready to head off to France for a week. He is so excited about the trip and the list of places he will be visiting reads like the brochure from the holiday of a lifetime.

The garden continues to become a whole new colour-palette each week. New flowers bloom and older ones die off again, some of them you wish could last a little longer, but its almost as if they were only meant to bloom long enough as a message that better flowers are yet to come. (Roxi is of course adding her bit the destruction of the garden).  The weather is letting us down a little at the moment, and although the days are so nice and long now, it is seldom warm enough to go and sit outside and enjoy the setting sun.