tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12295889465686953152024-03-14T06:23:43.844+00:00The Great AdventureAlexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10685263692271779240noreply@blogger.comBlogger58125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1229588946568695315.post-86876778667801249272023-08-31T21:43:00.062+01:002023-09-07T23:42:17.423+01:00Summer in Cyprus<p style="text-align: justify;">Having never been to Cyprus before, the first thing I did when preparing to go there was to buy a decent guidebook. I am a big fan of both Rough Guide and Lonely Planet books, and usually choose whichever happens to be the newest edition (which, in this case, was the Rough Guide). Sure, in these days of internet at your fingertips, most of the information found within can also be found online, but there is something special about being able to hold a physical book, marking pages of interest and flicking back and forth with ease. Don't get me wrong, I love my Kindle and wouldn't be without it, but there are some books which really need to be experienced in a physical format, and a travel guide book is one of them. Armed with a basic knowledge of Cyprus' turbulent past, an understanding of the different geographical regions and areas of interest, plus some basic Greek phrases, I felt ready to go and explore.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmfxXymZNDZqvZDcr1YgSfo7mP0DDvlQ2ng6V1nP1wbyzslTC7ELZP0pvX5_sFSoOJlnPMDyDp5Q-3qJ1jFI10p5leSj_3UVB40JvBlRtYFIj8ZxkWzliBzUPSltv63o1huboL4IsvFzRVmkmt3PHYXHhI1RheRiGHuzhYbDbt3QTr3vuHvMYvacdx8HD6/s4128/20230803_124126.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmfxXymZNDZqvZDcr1YgSfo7mP0DDvlQ2ng6V1nP1wbyzslTC7ELZP0pvX5_sFSoOJlnPMDyDp5Q-3qJ1jFI10p5leSj_3UVB40JvBlRtYFIj8ZxkWzliBzUPSltv63o1huboL4IsvFzRVmkmt3PHYXHhI1RheRiGHuzhYbDbt3QTr3vuHvMYvacdx8HD6/w400-h300/20230803_124126.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying the free tourist train in <span style="text-align: justify;">Lefkoşa</span> - incredibly fun and informative, with a<br />great driver and party atmosphere, taking in all the sights in the north of the city!</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">We were staying with our friends, the Bateys, in their home in south Nicosia (or Lefkosia, as it is technically called) so were fortunate to have our accommodation for the trip sorted. Nicosia is the last remaining divided capital in the world, since the Berlin wall fell back in 1989. The northern half is occupied by Turkish Cypriots and is known as Lefkoşa, whereas the southern part is inhabited by Greek Cypriots. Between the two halves of the city, and indeed the entire island, is a UN-controlled buffer zone which is uninhabited and looks rather post-apocalyptic. Apparently, crossing the border used to be much more difficult than it is today; we were able to walk across on foot in the centre of the old city, without even having our passports stamped. The difference between the north and south parts of the city is stark; they feel worlds apart. The southern part feels very European, with modern high street shops and the distinct feel of a city with money, whereas the northern part feels more rugged, like Turkey or Morocco. The streets in the north do not have the clean, well-maintained appearance of the south, but they exude a certain warmth and are full of eastern charm.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim2Yzngeowa2dm5XrWQlHgOpkAz68Uknz9GAqbnlKs8T2GAemyi3vg_GzYuY7U0D7aFdXqVEEMxPcV4X3O7mX0wqg4MXWqjg8k0fC13R5enXXBHgDX3bhUcv-CHIW5CtfdFznmj8nnCpE8dXQt6pipdNi0xvV91_LkoY4ACvex4l9djMgE_kfG5mfGla35/s3110/20230720_100658.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2333" data-original-width="3110" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim2Yzngeowa2dm5XrWQlHgOpkAz68Uknz9GAqbnlKs8T2GAemyi3vg_GzYuY7U0D7aFdXqVEEMxPcV4X3O7mX0wqg4MXWqjg8k0fC13R5enXXBHgDX3bhUcv-CHIW5CtfdFznmj8nnCpE8dXQt6pipdNi0xvV91_LkoY4ACvex4l9djMgE_kfG5mfGla35/w400-h300/20230720_100658.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex stood next to the buffer zone. Just above and to the right of his head, <br />you can see the red Turkish flag on the other side of the city</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">For two of the five weeks we spent in Cyprus, we enrolled the children into a summer school programme. It was a slight shock to the system for us all, as they had to leave the apartment at just gone 7am in order to get there on time and then finished for the day at 2.30pm. We all struggled to wake up so early in the morning to start with! The children took part in various activities at their summer school, such as arts and crafts, sports, music, etc. and seemed to have a great time. Beth was at the Senior School on her own, whereas Zach was at the Junior School, along with the Bateys' son, Sebastian. There was some confusion on Zach's first day about his lunch, since we were told to pack some snacks in their bags for mid-morning, but I had incorrectly referred to this as his packed lunch when packing his bag. I had packed him an apple, as well as some small tubs containing raw vegetables and dried fruit. When asking how his day had gone, he told us about how the teacher had made him eat his entire packed lunch at snack time. Apparently, he had just wanted to eat his apple, but the teacher dug around in his bag and pulled out the tubs of fruit and veg (presumably, because she knew that he was meant to bring other snacks as well as the piece of fresh fruit) and told him to eat them, too. Zach was quite concerned about her having done that, and then continued to explain to us that the poor woman had later had to give him her own lunch to eat, since his had all been eaten at snack time! In actual fact, she had really just provided him with the hot meal which we had paid for and expected him to be given, but Zach's misunderstanding of the whole situation really made us chuckle.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWb3oMVRAMUf58WuDTBee1iAy3RRPEdf44R85oyTq4mRpa1DlbwqGvgL7C_GCbMFMg7UBRT9dHq0wH-YodFN6VL_58McMIu9y-LpKu8gi3C_kD-gk7F9lV4qi-7bFQgO3FCB2QwsgLV-BxZ1aT3YnTp3cE3MCf-w9tauK_c6jEwTiu_9S1Uf_nnWR80Ddt/s4128/20230717_064705.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4128" data-original-width="3096" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWb3oMVRAMUf58WuDTBee1iAy3RRPEdf44R85oyTq4mRpa1DlbwqGvgL7C_GCbMFMg7UBRT9dHq0wH-YodFN6VL_58McMIu9y-LpKu8gi3C_kD-gk7F9lV4qi-7bFQgO3FCB2QwsgLV-BxZ1aT3YnTp3cE3MCf-w9tauK_c6jEwTiu_9S1Uf_nnWR80Ddt/w300-h400/20230717_064705.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beth and Zach, all ready for summer school</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Whilst the children were at summer school, Alex and I made the most of the free time together and went on a couple of dates, which were lovely. We went for brunch at a few nice eateries around the city, as well as going for a hammam together and visiting a classic motorbike museum. The museum was absolutely fascinating, and was one of my highlights of the entire trip. Whilst I am not into classic motorbikes, per se, I certainly love all things mechanical and therefore any older vehicles will tend to interest me. As such, it was interesting to see such a large collection of classic motorbikes, which have all been lovingly and painstakingly restored and are kept in full working order. However, what really made the visit so interesting was the museum guide, who gave us a wonderfully engaging history lesson by sharing with us his own incredible knowledge about the evolution of motorcycles and their development through the years. From the early British designers and builders and their many successes, through to their demise from the late 1970s due to Japanese manufacturers such as Honda who took advantage of the lull in British innovation, and the fact that Harley Davidson were really only prevented from going under at that time due to being propped up by the US government, who used them for their law enforcement officers. It's amazing how interesting any subject can be when it is being taught by a passionate and knowledgeable teacher, and how many lessons can be learned when we examine the events of the past with an open mind.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ptrAOXWvEZWcw2i9SB-9UNpApfE9t8NTSuWEtLAvNeXqn795MtA8uzMszZKkMbFYBLZjaewFxMqCKZmoDnBEqQDR8VRu3qD55-miauQE1x5prwZFYX33AZasLGg3ZGFBtCx6fgvkFsNELVNP7k-jQIxyiuTG6fnumrVbtLhj_kooxfqFBufaYB5gplM4/s3795/20230731_135332.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2846" data-original-width="3795" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ptrAOXWvEZWcw2i9SB-9UNpApfE9t8NTSuWEtLAvNeXqn795MtA8uzMszZKkMbFYBLZjaewFxMqCKZmoDnBEqQDR8VRu3qD55-miauQE1x5prwZFYX33AZasLGg3ZGFBtCx6fgvkFsNELVNP7k-jQIxyiuTG6fnumrVbtLhj_kooxfqFBufaYB5gplM4/w400-h300/20230731_135332.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A picnic spot with a view, in the mountains</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">As well as exploring our immediate surroundings, we ventured further afield on numerous occasions to take advantage of Cyprus' stunning beaches and beautiful mountains. It is really quite incredible to live in a city whereby you can drive for a little over an hour and find yourself in a holiday destination that most people there have flown for over 4 hours to enjoy. We felt very fortunate that the Bateys were willing to have us to stay in their lovely home, and that they have chosen such a wonderful island on which to reside for the time being! On one of these weekend trips to the coast, Alex and I decided to walk to the sea one evening after dark, to enjoy a night swim under an almost-full moon. It was absolutely magical, and we enjoyed it so much that we kept the children up late on the following evening so that they, too, could experience it. I often wonder how much they will remember of these experiences as they grown up... perhaps very little, especially in Zach's case, but hopefully they will still benefit from them on some deep and subconscious level.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTDA7Iwu6nlF8qGB9LxpPfJJXB27q9g5WdNCoz0bcVvy4VAbsSYF-Y1bjXgw0zqHnCjnnCg1xJ2XYg0KW4O68eL0vbjuTXDqmnzYbVuJJvBCB22v4VqE8xq4ighPepccksC5EF1LV8R0g5lb1TGuS3FVFPPr-xknld0UEq4V8HvZILIW_7FxgGCQDOKu07/s4128/20230712_094626.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTDA7Iwu6nlF8qGB9LxpPfJJXB27q9g5WdNCoz0bcVvy4VAbsSYF-Y1bjXgw0zqHnCjnnCg1xJ2XYg0KW4O68eL0vbjuTXDqmnzYbVuJJvBCB22v4VqE8xq4ighPepccksC5EF1LV8R0g5lb1TGuS3FVFPPr-xknld0UEq4V8HvZILIW_7FxgGCQDOKu07/w400-h300/20230712_094626.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fun on the beach, on the east coast of Cyprus</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Whilst the sea was so wonderfully warm that you might as well be having a bath, the water we found in the mountains was absolutely freezing! Thankfully, we had sought it out in respite due to sustained temperatures of over 40°C in the city, so we weren't about to complain when we found it. We found a spectacular waterfall, the Caledonia Falls, which we reached by following a beautiful walk from the town of Platres. At 12 metres high, this waterfall is one of the highest on the island, and runs year round. The children enjoyed the hike there and back, frolicking in the pools and trying (unsuccessfully) to catch small trout, and we all enjoyed the cooler temperatures in this lush, mountainous region. </p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf-7vCYQxa7a_pErdkNCu5UEcQlG0BS-tczK-pT2zsg16KUWmtmhPgMdRKcmbBiWrwCkSKrSV_FP39eBa6S1kEGr5xH6qH_SGOKCs1wh1mmUU8Y3TwDaO3XYLc4co8b2ZROPALcrjkRQNENA76QuTS54oweIl2wrQWDvJPfQP59zDmpxnj-x2CnvCAKxYA/s1280/waterfall_kate.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf-7vCYQxa7a_pErdkNCu5UEcQlG0BS-tczK-pT2zsg16KUWmtmhPgMdRKcmbBiWrwCkSKrSV_FP39eBa6S1kEGr5xH6qH_SGOKCs1wh1mmUU8Y3TwDaO3XYLc4co8b2ZROPALcrjkRQNENA76QuTS54oweIl2wrQWDvJPfQP59zDmpxnj-x2CnvCAKxYA/w300-h400/waterfall_kate.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Believe me, it was colder than it looks!</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Another beautiful swimming spot we found in the mountains was Filani Lake, where the water was much warmer and much better for actually swimming in (as opposed to the cold plunge at the waterfall). I found this lake using Google maps, as opposed to the guide book. I basically used satellite view and spent hours searching around the main mountainous areas on the island, looking for bodies of water that might be suitable for swimming in. Sadly, many of the large pools of water in this region are reservoirs, created by damming rivers and not available for swimming in, but I got lucky when I finally discovered Filani Lake, which was a real hidden gem. The roads to reach it were a little bumpy in places but, as is so often the case in life, it was well worth leaving the beaten track to get there. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4A3SBlauJ7DtBPanYzh-fxIn9SpfFKfG5twOjW85oafrEkYPw9ha6ppZoeWX5QWV7BxS0As2cG5f93nkmtIE-38XwjGy_ZPoY56ubsgplEfxZ31kpRxFqo39qCohxsDxmGA0et0Rlp5ZTKA7r8BelqMJUl05UjRXFh4KGuAVvmmzhIHG8mo8OzEs-EOC0/s4128/20230731_125514.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4A3SBlauJ7DtBPanYzh-fxIn9SpfFKfG5twOjW85oafrEkYPw9ha6ppZoeWX5QWV7BxS0As2cG5f93nkmtIE-38XwjGy_ZPoY56ubsgplEfxZ31kpRxFqo39qCohxsDxmGA0et0Rlp5ZTKA7r8BelqMJUl05UjRXFh4KGuAVvmmzhIHG8mo8OzEs-EOC0/w400-h300/20230731_125514.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The beautiful Filani Lake, in the Machairas mountains</td></tr></tbody></table>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06821472236408880197noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1229588946568695315.post-21520681788859391982023-07-31T21:55:00.006+01:002023-08-01T23:02:21.388+01:00Return of the Jack<p style="text-align: justify;">Shortly after Beth's birthday (as in, at 6am the following morning!), we packed up and headed to the airport ready to fly back to the UK to see Alex. Although sad to be leaving Portugal, we were very excited to be seeing Alex again, especially as he had told us the previous week of his plans to permanently rejoin the family after completing his initial sea time on the Queen Elizabeth aircraft carrier. Whilst he had the most fantastic time, learning so many new skills and making some life-long friendships during his time at Britannia Royal Naval College, his time at sea made him realise that his existing life as Hope's captain is hard to beat. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg88uDZ5ZcVtYpel6ogKaveS0x-J94xEvs4ZXYhmaFHfk48oVch2bzmlu2vWO4PaKoTxkMZKFHnjPaXDte-LsrMhHAFuVfONMuw3ghxxIb5heg5ykwZDwD13d3s_qgNCrV8w5rPMHZNHfej2QrtErRC_6f4a4TF9iSGt-cndyE12YP7Hm9M--G7jarje81E/s4128/20230615_085505.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg88uDZ5ZcVtYpel6ogKaveS0x-J94xEvs4ZXYhmaFHfk48oVch2bzmlu2vWO4PaKoTxkMZKFHnjPaXDte-LsrMhHAFuVfONMuw3ghxxIb5heg5ykwZDwD13d3s_qgNCrV8w5rPMHZNHfej2QrtErRC_6f4a4TF9iSGt-cndyE12YP7Hm9M--G7jarje81E/w400-h300/20230615_085505.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beth had fun painting her and Zach on her birthday, using her new face paints</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">We flew to Gatwick and picked up a hire car, then drove straight to Portsmouth to meet Alex in time for dinner and a good night's sleep at the Premier Inn. The following day, we visited the Portsmouth Historic Dockyard, which was a great way to spend the day. We enjoyed a harbour tour, which took us past many Royal Naval frigates, destroyers and, of course, the Queen Elizabeth herself. It was great to get such a good view of the absolutely massive ship, upon which Alex had spent the previous six weeks. We also visited HMS Victory; Lord Nelson's flagship in the Battle of Trafalgar, back in 1805. The children were excited about this, since she featured heavily in David Walliams' excellent children's book The Ice Monster, in which she is used to transport a woolly mammoth back to the North Pole!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM-AI8hHe_Jtn3jdYf82d9pSjoXZey46n3gntXz1fIVZr22dB8FETSB7LvD-53g4F6aQ4ydUf2v-Efx-srNtO4xVEm5G-b47ZTZK9BSJc923zpSadHFrw0wSVID-8j2giHo5QjerZcro1ifknSiHJcMXw4gl6hTT1JaSPoZXYZZULwd77OiG5ryXECC6Lg/s4128/20230617_132945.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM-AI8hHe_Jtn3jdYf82d9pSjoXZey46n3gntXz1fIVZr22dB8FETSB7LvD-53g4F6aQ4ydUf2v-Efx-srNtO4xVEm5G-b47ZTZK9BSJc923zpSadHFrw0wSVID-8j2giHo5QjerZcro1ifknSiHJcMXw4gl6hTT1JaSPoZXYZZULwd77OiG5ryXECC6Lg/w400-h300/20230617_132945.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beth and Zach are deep in concentration, listening to the audio guide on HMS Victory</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">After dropping Alex back to Dartmouth, the children and I headed off for a week near Bude, staying at a lovely Airbnb in a place called Widemouth Bay. Whilst I was tempted to visit friends during this week, I was feeling really exhausted and felt that we all just needed to relax on our own for a week. I also had some important work that I needed to focus on in the evenings, which can often be difficult when staying with others (since I prefer to spend my evenings socialising and catching up with people, rather than being on my laptop). So, we stayed in our little chalet on a small caravan site within walking distance of the beach, and had a thoroughly wonderful time. We explored the local beaches, ate lots of healthy home-cooked food and I was able to get all my work done in the evenings, which lifted a weight off my shoulders!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFWmPId-l0KoNVWeskyzwPTpUVemTBcBMvdPHpxVYjldt13Tq8YAVCnKJ9KtRTm2PQM8MS76veEgwpOudWU_mTPWKIAT8EK2xLxwZKOFppIMMD_kd2fzCCG3OLFcjfM6B3qlkXz-lepeRpdGA2anKrIKPGpbO3NScrOCc21nMC-19ZcBVCgwrv-g2uGVH-/s4128/20230622_145758.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFWmPId-l0KoNVWeskyzwPTpUVemTBcBMvdPHpxVYjldt13Tq8YAVCnKJ9KtRTm2PQM8MS76veEgwpOudWU_mTPWKIAT8EK2xLxwZKOFppIMMD_kd2fzCCG3OLFcjfM6B3qlkXz-lepeRpdGA2anKrIKPGpbO3NScrOCc21nMC-19ZcBVCgwrv-g2uGVH-/w400-h300/20230622_145758.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Exploring the beach and rockpools at Widemouth Bay</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">The next weekend was also spent with Alex, who needed to stay in Dartmouth for a further week to tie up some loose ends at the college. We stayed in a lovely Shepherd's hut on Dartmoor, and enjoyed a nice walk across the moors one day, to find a lake in which we could swim. It turned out to be very close to where Alex had spent the best part of a week on one of his military training exercises, back at the start of the year when the weather was a whole lot worse than it was for us in June! The lake we found, called Crazywell Pool, was really picturesque and not too busy, which was nice. The children discovered lots of tiny baby frogs and newts at the water's edge, and spent most of their time looking at them rather than swimming!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6hNIgz_wRjpveKjBg9FUEa5g4DlsyASkHRv7x2DECMIlJK9NnMZTmgglWzKds4PPIfDHbPYae6738PmCfK269zpmSwuexZQWcHXyKgiIyx3qvTgLR6JE21kMNOzweoo0Som-PuNq90fdUu-Z3S30xSeVsj3qqI16qd2aYjZZ6UOWLGzvlO3PcGGbP6iCg/s4128/20230625_133507.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6hNIgz_wRjpveKjBg9FUEa5g4DlsyASkHRv7x2DECMIlJK9NnMZTmgglWzKds4PPIfDHbPYae6738PmCfK269zpmSwuexZQWcHXyKgiIyx3qvTgLR6JE21kMNOzweoo0Som-PuNq90fdUu-Z3S30xSeVsj3qqI16qd2aYjZZ6UOWLGzvlO3PcGGbP6iCg/w400-h300/20230625_133507.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you look closely, you can see Alex swimming in the background</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">We were also lucky enough to go on a river trip on one of the motor whaler training boats from the college. Alex and his colleague Aaron were given permission to take us all out on the River Dart for a few hours, and we had a really nice time. It was such a privilege to be able to do this, and the children were delighted as they even got chance to take the helm!</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyAi5MW3KZEUeTCYi9-vE3PbV_5vSk5ltzNYM60ssCcbxMUFJnIq9B7NqtzAIF2X3MFMAFfnhHsCQx37Oai2l3tZrhjJ5qqFilDtPMFHvZ6MzYPfSU78Pu-Wj-QQDSSx4p_3yGpYuLRAxpJ6PykI5qiNbFair6qmEBO1Ezr8uo20-LbtH6Hu2_ObqiXx3l/s4128/20230624_114300(0).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyAi5MW3KZEUeTCYi9-vE3PbV_5vSk5ltzNYM60ssCcbxMUFJnIq9B7NqtzAIF2X3MFMAFfnhHsCQx37Oai2l3tZrhjJ5qqFilDtPMFHvZ6MzYPfSU78Pu-Wj-QQDSSx4p_3yGpYuLRAxpJ6PykI5qiNbFair6qmEBO1Ezr8uo20-LbtH6Hu2_ObqiXx3l/w400-h300/20230624_114300(0).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zach at the helm on the River Dart</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Following this wonderful period in the West Country, the children and I made the long drive back east, heading to my brother and his husband's house in Hertfordshire to spend some quality time with them. On Wednesday afternoon, Alex arrived by train, finally back on civvy street. In many ways, he seems unchanged... but in other ways he is definitely different! Firstly, there is the 'Jack speak' (Naval slang) which is now part of his vocabulary. It isn't just hot, it's 'redders'. Food is now 'scran'. 'Dippers shippers' basically means "oh well, you win some you lose some... sucks to be you!" I have also had 'threaders' and 'dits' explained to me, but I confess that I have forgotten their meanings... Then there is the precision with which the bed now gets made every morning; hospital corners all round, with not a creased sheet or pillowcase in sight! I thought I was good at making a bed, but Alex now puts me to shame.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGb67IIM0uCDsXvrHQkAlK5-33KbTFoshiEDtqQ_tyU71mQQIbkerQwphqlia5TAXfGi_LKt-6J8CFeZiP1MlufFZWTggCV5Q5PVAHM9KzzhQOFnCp_tarZyRQrKRQKqGPM2mv0G5WbVq_FVOnoCvyFNYFL6joiUZ96ncuAb_43swj1UoKkp1FEss5sN_q/s4128/20230624_084524.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGb67IIM0uCDsXvrHQkAlK5-33KbTFoshiEDtqQ_tyU71mQQIbkerQwphqlia5TAXfGi_LKt-6J8CFeZiP1MlufFZWTggCV5Q5PVAHM9KzzhQOFnCp_tarZyRQrKRQKqGPM2mv0G5WbVq_FVOnoCvyFNYFL6joiUZ96ncuAb_43swj1UoKkp1FEss5sN_q/w400-h300/20230624_084524.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying some 'scran' at our Shepherd's hut on Dartmoor</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Our final stop in the UK was with Alex's parents, back in East Dulwich, where Beth and Zach were delighted to find a second-hand toy kitchen set up for them in the garden shed. Ever the entrepreneur, Beth got straight to work creating "Beth's Cafe", enlisting the help of others to procure ingredients, cook some suitable snacks and prepare drinks ready for her grand opening in the garden. Thankfully, we enjoyed some pleasant weather and some delicious cake and milkshakes at the cafe, which was such a hit that it reopened the following day for coffee and croissants! Beth's policy of not charging for food and drinks but, instead, inviting tips from anyone who felt the service deserving of one seemed to work out very well for her. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkGQt6Z-dRtBGzD7WO0La7XRCN095qlFbZ34yjOdPVPK7kis7jMkaNKaGv5dnbD1EcIsueLlFKH0M6fkRZDw1D21tLfmOBScfnswfXA0FPjOH40Mwwqe7pqM6MbWXbyuW_xdlptZl89QwovokhLS3qPdSttx9mLa1CMXmuf1EXr8EftDUAZ0Jxjekv03gp/s4128/20230703_125802.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkGQt6Z-dRtBGzD7WO0La7XRCN095qlFbZ34yjOdPVPK7kis7jMkaNKaGv5dnbD1EcIsueLlFKH0M6fkRZDw1D21tLfmOBScfnswfXA0FPjOH40Mwwqe7pqM6MbWXbyuW_xdlptZl89QwovokhLS3qPdSttx9mLa1CMXmuf1EXr8EftDUAZ0Jxjekv03gp/w400-h300/20230703_125802.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beth's Cafe was a great success! It even had a babyccino for Zach</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Just in time to escape the wind and rain which suddenly hit the UK, we drove back down to Gatwick, returned our trusty hire car and boarded our Easyjet flight to Cyprus, where we would be spending the next five weeks with our friends, the Bateys. Originally, this trip was planned for just myself and the children, but I was able to book Alex onto the same flight out as us, as well as the same flight for one of our legs on the way back (when we are stopping over for a night in Bucharest).</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiDZqskncBJ2D0JcO59iJlAWrBlKU3Wcut4Vq57IZ9pteXSfu73tgTZnuxsEIJhBWyZqBbN15ZIESQOUaL3fWR2Qpme6pbz6g5d7Z_Y2aGOj4ElDCS-nleXPaL_lngy3GdQXzA16IkpzuvjUE5q7uWebMU0qIrGlo656Cm4_9UtyCJxnu45ATCll2dnH0Y/s4128/20230714_122315.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiDZqskncBJ2D0JcO59iJlAWrBlKU3Wcut4Vq57IZ9pteXSfu73tgTZnuxsEIJhBWyZqBbN15ZIESQOUaL3fWR2Qpme6pbz6g5d7Z_Y2aGOj4ElDCS-nleXPaL_lngy3GdQXzA16IkpzuvjUE5q7uWebMU0qIrGlo656Cm4_9UtyCJxnu45ATCll2dnH0Y/w400-h300/20230714_122315.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back together again, ready for more adventures!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06821472236408880197noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1229588946568695315.post-28626666844074400702023-06-20T22:04:00.002+01:002023-07-08T20:27:56.509+01:00Iberian Wanderings<div style="text-align: justify;">On our return to Portugal, the first thing on our agenda was a beach day. Every time we had visited a beach whilst in the UK, the children wanted to stay and play (despite any inclement weather) but I managed to prise them away, promising them a hot beach day once back in Portugal. Hope is berthed in Lagos Marina, which is close to numerous spectacular beaches, so the morning after our arrival we headed to Meia Praia; a sandy beach so vast that it is impossible to feel crowded there, even in the height of summer. We spent a good few hours paddling, collecting shells, building sandcastles and burying each other... you know, the usual beach activities that become the norm once you add a couple of small children to the family! Anyhow, as the sun passed its peak and I began to feel myself burning, I announced that it was time to go and was met with an outcry. Beth and Zach were appalled that I was suggesting leaving the beach before sunset - how could this be considered a full beach day, they argued? More like a beach morning! They were not best pleased about being short-changed, and felt that I was breaking my promise to them. Well, I did eventually convince them to leave (the lure of food and drink helped, with our supplies having been exhausted) and I learned a lesson to consider the fact that children can often take things literally, and to try to remember to set expectations accordingly.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgVjRly2JWbwIinOcEen9wErGoxpny_FYpZXWaeQ78zeibKUR05qVkLdN113cbGD66VJzoO4dOA9bsNCi0vhG7NoUYIY4VKKNc57AZCfWxEeA6Xtc43XvIXiPm3aSh-qlUcIa-BoAZEZQ5mbHGwym2yyxbblNdoIiuFKzZHyh1AiPxhiGjc3Kb2bItGg/s4128/20230511_115730.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgVjRly2JWbwIinOcEen9wErGoxpny_FYpZXWaeQ78zeibKUR05qVkLdN113cbGD66VJzoO4dOA9bsNCi0vhG7NoUYIY4VKKNc57AZCfWxEeA6Xtc43XvIXiPm3aSh-qlUcIa-BoAZEZQ5mbHGwym2yyxbblNdoIiuFKzZHyh1AiPxhiGjc3Kb2bItGg/w400-h300/20230511_115730.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying the sunshine and warmth on this beautiful Algarvian beach</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">After a few days relaxing by the sea, it was time to head inland and get back to work on the land. In Portugal, the risk of forest fires over the summer is very high and, as a result, all landowners are required to have strimmed and cleared their land by a certain date, to ensure that it doesn't pose a fire risk. This year, that date was the end of May, so I had my work cut out to get it finished in time. Ordinarily, brush cutting is a really fun and satisfying task, but my dad's old brush cutter is rather temperamental and it, therefore, became a bit of a chore towards the end. It was hard to make proper progress, because the nylon line no longer spools out correctly so I found myself having to stop regularly to feed it manually and it was often difficult to get the engine running again. We have already decided to invest in a newer, better brush cutter to replace this one but, having spent so much time repairing this one over the past few months, I felt compelled to see the season through with it before retiring it from service. At the end of the day, it did the job and I finally managed to clear the land to a satisfactory level, but I definitely look forward to using a more mechanically-sound model in the autumn!</div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSHgnL0iLzFB1rWbqKEYAEUinZKCpFy96AQbzsb-S4cgFul50ZFAFp5cYI4Q51pGxL-TRjiA3eSGgvsaHV559hrW-w_MVT1VAlAtVcOOIuDwRVxINM3OUGNVCFqRy5atF174m8uwDrAEAtyHFW68nqUA41w90CQ5zb6IfQFWiPdry2rpr7gdhJ3F1CZA/s3514/20230606_132605.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2687" data-original-width="3514" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSHgnL0iLzFB1rWbqKEYAEUinZKCpFy96AQbzsb-S4cgFul50ZFAFp5cYI4Q51pGxL-TRjiA3eSGgvsaHV559hrW-w_MVT1VAlAtVcOOIuDwRVxINM3OUGNVCFqRy5atF174m8uwDrAEAtyHFW68nqUA41w90CQ5zb6IfQFWiPdry2rpr7gdhJ3F1CZA/w400-h306/20230606_132605.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I am smiling because I have almost finished clearing the land at this point!</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Another task at the top of my list of priorities is sorting access to the land, in the form of a bridge. Currently, we have to walk across the river bed, which is fine in the summer (although not ideal, as this is not suitable for vehicles) but not so good in the winter when the river is running. We essentially have to wade through the water with wellies on to get across, and this is only possible if the water level is not too high (as it is after a huge downpour). As it happens, our neighbour Leonardo has the same issue and we are, therefore, hoping to work together to build a shared bridge. We have been discussing possible designs and looking into prices for the various options, and hope to come to an agreement so that construction can start as soon as possible. Unfortunately, I won't be in Portugal over the summer so will have to try to progress things from afar, but I feel like we are getting closer to achieving our goal, which is good.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHxuc8SF14ZCjsTKUldBcqdF-y1NSOy1a0TcqIRLCKnvms4ywlrXg0_OLhyeaEiBcTvghPi7w8jpcL2wwjcyLOVbmLh0DvrvGxwU9K0kJbmEmiImw71sCiDnIZx5XZh0n6_WIUOVQT0PvARhzbGeFZgoAVtNUdXYPpwmmcyhHAcH-AE74wbJBf6__-lNb4/s816/IMG-20221205-WA0007.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="816" data-original-width="612" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHxuc8SF14ZCjsTKUldBcqdF-y1NSOy1a0TcqIRLCKnvms4ywlrXg0_OLhyeaEiBcTvghPi7w8jpcL2wwjcyLOVbmLh0DvrvGxwU9K0kJbmEmiImw71sCiDnIZx5XZh0n6_WIUOVQT0PvARhzbGeFZgoAVtNUdXYPpwmmcyhHAcH-AE74wbJBf6__-lNb4/w300-h400/IMG-20221205-WA0007.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The water level rises rapidly following heavy rainfall</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">A few weeks after being in Portugal, we were all due to fly out to Barcelona for my cousin Kelly's wedding to her husband Pepo. The plan was to drive to Lisbon in my dad's car, then fly from there to Barcelona and collect a hire car to take us to/from the wedding in Tivissa, Tarragona. Unfortunately, just a few days before our departure, Dad took his car to the mechanic as it had been losing coolant, and was hit with the news that it needed a new head gasket. Thank goodness he had the foresight to get it checked out, as we would have undoubtedly missed our flights had the gasket blown on our drive to the airport! With no chance of the work being done in time for our departure, we hurriedly arranged to collect a hire car from Faro airport to use instead. It seemed rather funny to hire a car from one airport, then drive to another and leave the car there, fly to a third and then collect a second hire car from there for the weekend! I must admit, I found myself getting very confused about which car was where and which airport we were at, but it all worked out fine and we enjoyed an absolutely fantastic weekend with friends and family, enjoying all the lively Spanish wedding traditions. Some of my favourites traditions are: </div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li style="text-align: justify;">random shouts <span style="font-family: inherit;">of "</span>¡<span style="font-family: inherit;">Viva las novios!" during the reception, causing everyone to shout "</span>¡Viva!" in reply and prompting the newlyweds to stand up and kiss</li><li style="text-align: justify;">snippets of great music being played during the reception (for which a DJ is present, in order to orchestrate this), at which point something significant happens (such as the newlyweds entering the room, or giving out thank you gifts) and everyone present stands up to cheer and twirl their napkins above their heads</li><li style="text-align: justify;">the cake being cut by a humongous sword rather than a knife</li></ul></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Zach enjoyed the wedding so much that he proclaimed, "When I get married, I am going to have this exact wedding!"</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVlLTRRrENHT_tXKpKKiqYIgwMQOizTvCmDd4eQSSDtJNyFbDkb7qFA5oIvQtu_wzRTQDnvjuCrV7gymOJJGHd-LqxwOG1Eh0ucbTHU5lb1H0e8UDEVtuYZZihQg_ZWiyrzjKwBCE4kf55neZ5yTSaR2AyUPHPKHzSRvwj6ve4l2WL2HWYg1HNKciDEA/s1200/IMG-20230527-WA0001.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="1200" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVlLTRRrENHT_tXKpKKiqYIgwMQOizTvCmDd4eQSSDtJNyFbDkb7qFA5oIvQtu_wzRTQDnvjuCrV7gymOJJGHd-LqxwOG1Eh0ucbTHU5lb1H0e8UDEVtuYZZihQg_ZWiyrzjKwBCE4kf55neZ5yTSaR2AyUPHPKHzSRvwj6ve4l2WL2HWYg1HNKciDEA/w400-h300/IMG-20230527-WA0001.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kelly's husband Pepo is a fireman, so his colleagues blasted their sirens <br />for the happy couple after the ceremony, which pleased Zach immensely</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">After the wedding, we returned our various hire cars and then were hit by some more car-related drama. One Sunday morning, when driving from my parents' house to the land to meet Leonardo to discuss the bridge and have a BBQ, I was overtaken on a blind corner (which, sad to say, is not an abnormal occurrence in Portugal) by a rather large SUV. I was forced to move over slightly and, unfortunately, this caused me to drive into a huge pothole. I heard a loud bang from my nearside front wheel and knew immediately I needed to pull over, which I did in a well-placed forecourt just past the bend. The tyre was flat and I could see that there was a large dent on the inside of the wheel rim, which had caused the tyre to deflate. With the help of the children, I removed the old wheel and replaced it with the spare... only to discover that the spare was also flat! I called Dad, who very kindly brought me a pump so that I could inflate the spare tyre and be on my way. Not two miles down the road, I heard a suspect sound from the nearside rear wheel and pulled over, to see that this tyre was also going flat! Upon inspection, I could see the rim of this wheel was also damaged, but not to the extent of the front wheel. I was able to inflate the tyre, then limp back to my parents' house, stopping every mile or so to reinflate the tyre. Mum kindly lent me her car for the day, then Dad and I took my car to the local tyre shop the next morning where the man working there cheerfully hammered my rims back into shape, reinflated my tyres and put the wheels back on the car... all for the bargain price of 20€! </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN4s7Wq18BHf0uxLPlWnyQq_Hw1QnD62HPRVL4RhxoeR7bOmrZvF9moOzeOi6Q3yqFsdlbvj2FRkiAp7El3yWf7hFpe2fuwLxvvg3OMZKzyHyQVwq9dKgjnuJ8w2fG7ndY6NVFGKtNCIwPJtiVRgIVdqp_q9r_Mn417FameLrbEGA7ZtdeX9QMTuFV-g/s3196/20230605_162538-COLLAGE.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="3196" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN4s7Wq18BHf0uxLPlWnyQq_Hw1QnD62HPRVL4RhxoeR7bOmrZvF9moOzeOi6Q3yqFsdlbvj2FRkiAp7El3yWf7hFpe2fuwLxvvg3OMZKzyHyQVwq9dKgjnuJ8w2fG7ndY6NVFGKtNCIwPJtiVRgIVdqp_q9r_Mn417FameLrbEGA7ZtdeX9QMTuFV-g/w400-h300/20230605_162538-COLLAGE.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Instead of getting stressed about the puncture, <br />we turned it into a valuable lesson and had some fun!</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The children have been enjoying our time in Portugal, as always. The consistently warm weather always helps with this, as they are able to play outside for most of the day, once they have done their schoolwork in the mornings. Additionally, having heard about a local gymnastics club from a friend, I decided to sign them both up and so they have been going to the gym every Monday and Wednesday for an hour from 17:00. During this time, Mum and I head to a local cafe by the river in Silves, where we enjoy a drink and chat together for the hour, which seems to fly by and feel like no more than 20 minutes! Apparently, the same applies for the children - they both complain that the session is over too soon, which I guess is a good thing since time does fly when you are having fun. Their coach, Tito, is very nice and seems impressed with Beth's abilities, which have improved enormously in just a few weeks. Zach is one of the youngest in the gym, at only 4 years old, so spends most of his time bouncing around and learning more basic moves such as forward rolls, whereas Beth being that bit older is able to learn handstands and cartwheels, and she has really got the bug. She is practising her moves at every available opportunity and, with some extra coaching from my mum (who, herself, was a competition gymnast and then spent over 20 years coaching), she is really getting proficient. Perhaps it is to be expected, given the fact that both my mum and aunt were successful gymnasts (with my aunt even making the Olympic squad) and my brother was a hugely successful gymnast for many years of his life, competing and picking up medals both nationally and internationally. It's certainly in the genes!</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsi5PdIpePC23SrLupMPObOM5cTxMd_EPTHLWDIJAxwUUMjBU5NAe1qgK1Udajx-KpZT0Dwj7ZUVTuTbi1QeYBDQrgiA5svXjMIdiBbWtA1XCgZF4aMfmJfYd0JwypaUVpHDTlYUJav2Vc-LOfTYrNz7st7iowaFe6gkQggTGZ54m6igSQ-eVaYOmYkA/s4128/20230613_180726.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsi5PdIpePC23SrLupMPObOM5cTxMd_EPTHLWDIJAxwUUMjBU5NAe1qgK1Udajx-KpZT0Dwj7ZUVTuTbi1QeYBDQrgiA5svXjMIdiBbWtA1XCgZF4aMfmJfYd0JwypaUVpHDTlYUJav2Vc-LOfTYrNz7st7iowaFe6gkQggTGZ54m6igSQ-eVaYOmYkA/w400-h300/20230613_180726.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beth practises gymnastics whilst Zach digs for treasure</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Whilst Beth is busy practising gymnastics, Zach is usually to be found hunting for animals or treasure, or both! He loves all kinds of animals, and spends hours outside searching for lizards, geckos and frogs. For a while, I struggled to decide whether or not I should allow him to catch little creatures, as I was worried about their well-being but, having seen how gentle he is with them and knowing that he doesn't mean them any harm, I now allow him to do so without interfering, so long as he always returns them to where he found them. I figure that, as predators go, the creatures are rather fortunate that Zach has found them as opposed to a bird or a cat, and I don't want to stifle his budding interest in the natural world. When not searching for animals, he is hunting for "treasure", which basically encompasses any object that takes his fancy, which he usually finds on the floor. Recently, I was trying to convince him to discard some his treasure ready for travelling, and I asked whether we could recycle a long piece of plastic seal, originally from around a bottle top. Zach would not agree to this, since apparently it has been earmarked to be a vital component in the trebuchet that he plans on making at some point. Another piece of plastic, seemingly useless to my untrained eyes, is being kept for holding the rocks on his trebuchet.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBJZ9-JecQ7P0-AfjfuryW2oC6jxG0jIr9orVvjkb_P9axYoRcO0PVYKNOlbLYzrwRyfYVkYsBhh6r2ayy5xFwW2iwxVAkTjYOnf6yujWMAmmpm3QH5h5Us6YcJhVh9-vzjyNktCrsdbFB0CJrVTDyXmDmpy6eNaFyyW5-6IhkjMuUGiiYKJOvswHKMlhS/s1925/20230602_122928.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1925" data-original-width="1444" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBJZ9-JecQ7P0-AfjfuryW2oC6jxG0jIr9orVvjkb_P9axYoRcO0PVYKNOlbLYzrwRyfYVkYsBhh6r2ayy5xFwW2iwxVAkTjYOnf6yujWMAmmpm3QH5h5Us6YcJhVh9-vzjyNktCrsdbFB0CJrVTDyXmDmpy6eNaFyyW5-6IhkjMuUGiiYKJOvswHKMlhS/w300-h400/20230602_122928.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zach knows how to hold lizards and geckos carefully <br />so that he doesn't hurt them and they don't bite him</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Whilst out and about, Zach's treasure often finds its way into my bag or pockets, sometimes without me even being aware of this fact until much later. Recently, when speaking to Alex on the phone, Zach told Alex that he had a pin for his pin cushion. I didn't really know what he was talking about, and didn't give it much thought at the time, to be honest. A few days later, I decided to put my shorts in the wash and was emptying the pockets. Upon sticking my hand in the back pocket, I was met with a sharp pain on the end of my index finger. I discovered the cause of this injury was a small pin, and suddenly I realised what Zach had been referring to when he told Alex that he had a pin for him. If only he had also thought to tell me, and warn me that he had stored it in my pocket!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVt_z89121mxZ6q9VfF7hBx3gBq8aCCQj7YATupwwoO4Af0xwvEV2bCAGBiXKmzP3VNEWmJu5XwNzgKEHVJP7AgnWCYU1bw3h1TjV5jXa4bEHWm3RPawfKCgTsrgoJKEMSNIt4SiOjU_L6qg9sgo_mGyXoukj-jKnJjt6xPfG6kmJC0-s2dJBSyKCLxw/s4128/20230512_183710.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4128" data-original-width="3096" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVt_z89121mxZ6q9VfF7hBx3gBq8aCCQj7YATupwwoO4Af0xwvEV2bCAGBiXKmzP3VNEWmJu5XwNzgKEHVJP7AgnWCYU1bw3h1TjV5jXa4bEHWm3RPawfKCgTsrgoJKEMSNIt4SiOjU_L6qg9sgo_mGyXoukj-jKnJjt6xPfG6kmJC0-s2dJBSyKCLxw/w300-h400/20230512_183710.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet 'Hedgy'; an offcut of doormat which Zach found on <br />the beach and we then turned into a hedgehog!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">One of the things I love about Portugal is the fact that the local councils seem to provide so much for the local community throughout the year, often for free. At Christmas, there is always a fantastic Christmas fair, with live music, theatre performances, various rides for the children and even an ice skating rink, and there is never any charge for this. Whilst in Portugal this time, the local council put on an event to celebrate International Children's Day, taking over a large green space in the centre of Silves with multiple bouncy castles and bungee trampolines, activities such as face painting and balloon modelling, and stalls giving out candyfloss and chocolate doughnuts; all for free! Beth and Zach's gymnastics coach Tito was running one of the stalls and I noticed that the activities were all being run by young adults (probably college or university students). I wonder whether that is how the council are able to run such events without charging the general public. Perhaps, by enlisting the help of the local community (maybe even as volunteers) as opposed to hiring external contractors to help out, they are able to keep costs to a minimum. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdVarzt-_OXYyIVmQQhhCh5-UdgIn7R9Mhw4JcnMnlrKspT9rnzc_UzBLzcSdJD5HLEHEIsUBNMOMncSAJosJBvdD2FYHKDnOkf3QT035d1Co6j1KYjnriqv7UAMj7mf9EOxqSvRLCQUPEjw7Bg1i1dsG4hcwJEePlIPKRUZgTOcPsJUi_yMEdq5JQpg/s4128/20230601_130513.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdVarzt-_OXYyIVmQQhhCh5-UdgIn7R9Mhw4JcnMnlrKspT9rnzc_UzBLzcSdJD5HLEHEIsUBNMOMncSAJosJBvdD2FYHKDnOkf3QT035d1Co6j1KYjnriqv7UAMj7mf9EOxqSvRLCQUPEjw7Bg1i1dsG4hcwJEePlIPKRUZgTOcPsJUi_yMEdq5JQpg/w400-h300/20230601_130513.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beth and Zach enjoying one of many free bouncy castles at International <br />Children's Day; just 10 minutes on bouncy castles cost us £4<br />per child at the fair in Paignton for the King's Coronation!</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This is just a theory, of course, but it seems plausible... and perhaps the only feasible explanation, when you consider that my parents' council tax bill is under 100€ per year! I wonder whether life in the UK used to be like this, before capitalism and privatisation took over. Sadly, these days, the government seems like a sort of cash cow, with private companies charging excessive amounts to provide services which would be provided for a fraction of the cost in the private sector (certainly, this is the case in the IT industry). Inevitably, these costs are passed on to the general public either in the form of tax increases or a reduction in public services, depending on which government is in power at the time. I don't know what the solution is, or even whether the problem can be solved, but I very much hope that the local government in Silves continues to operate things in their current way for as long as possible, for the benefit of local residents and visitors alike.</div><div><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk73MsEL8TXcptyPZUn-3UZIlzoJAogBhWeCHcS5M6WekHlXp2G_ZFV_nS1T8-mszcI4Ohlsu8c7ISTgfrpJrmBn5rn8vm0RZvyF_70Lg1EQyF3vbg1tesysBMzrijLNFZ6VNj7PAJCoiN5E_xzj4IT4kYDO8A5N2xK5k4DxRE9rqShPxoi4Hg3WUVw3Qv/s4128/20230601_131633.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk73MsEL8TXcptyPZUn-3UZIlzoJAogBhWeCHcS5M6WekHlXp2G_ZFV_nS1T8-mszcI4Ohlsu8c7ISTgfrpJrmBn5rn8vm0RZvyF_70Lg1EQyF3vbg1tesysBMzrijLNFZ6VNj7PAJCoiN5E_xzj4IT4kYDO8A5N2xK5k4DxRE9rqShPxoi4Hg3WUVw3Qv/w400-h300/20230601_131633.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The calm before the storm... we arrived at lunchtime and had the place to<br />ourselves then, about an hour later, hundreds of local school children arrived!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06821472236408880197noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1229588946568695315.post-90692514658810427512023-05-13T01:23:00.001+01:002023-05-13T10:09:42.502+01:00Darting Around the UK<p style="text-align: justify;">As so often happens with boating, our aim to sail from south to north Devon with my cousin Lorna and her husband didn't quite go to plan. Nevertheless, we spent a lovely few days with them aboard their little sailing yacht on the River Dart, before heading back ashore with a new plan to complete the trip later in the year. Whilst it was disappointing to have to postpone the passage, I do look forward to making it in August/September, when hopefully the weather will be a little warmer in the UK than it has been of late!</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuWg5qaGEUjZFWkSfq_92e_3emBrDI4KXFF6uY_M4nUgV6y-wF0U-F9H9jhvaLpYnLVsv7l8Flw40kXhY5VYEfTUG0ARl-CsQ9Ui8ldQ-JGoaXWsQ8qpOjBbiCWYN9yPDygcDFCZdtm_7rSWMcC0G5DEmEdTtdtoRkwbLJND7zoNwAP0FM9e6uFD3OUQ/s3547/20230426_094414.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3547" data-original-width="3096" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuWg5qaGEUjZFWkSfq_92e_3emBrDI4KXFF6uY_M4nUgV6y-wF0U-F9H9jhvaLpYnLVsv7l8Flw40kXhY5VYEfTUG0ARl-CsQ9Ui8ldQ-JGoaXWsQ8qpOjBbiCWYN9yPDygcDFCZdtm_7rSWMcC0G5DEmEdTtdtoRkwbLJND7zoNwAP0FM9e6uFD3OUQ/w349-h400/20230426_094414.jpg" width="349" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beth, Zach and Scrat keeping warm whilst on the River Dart<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">By a happy coincidence, our trip being cut short meant that we ended up being in Totnes for a few hours at the same time as Alex's sister Lucy and her wife Charlie. They are currently <a href="https://www.instagram.com/travels.with.habibi/">travelling around the UK and Europe in their motorhome</a>, and happened to be exploring the south west of England at the same time as us, so we arranged to meet for a few hours at the Signal Box Cafe at Totnes Railway Station. Having not seen them since Christmas, it was lovely to catch up on each others' news, whilst enjoying some delicious and great value cooked breakfasts and hot drinks in the cafe. The children, being children, were soon more interested in all the leaflets on display by our table in the cafe and took a liking to the one advertising Babbacombe Model Village. Charlie was also <i>very</i> enthusiastic about model villages (although, warned us to avoid signage for Model Farm, which they had apparently followed on a whim, only to discover that it was not at all what they had expected, but actually a country house by the name of Model Farm!) and so we kept the leaflet and promised the children a visit to this attraction before dropping Alex back to BRNC.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQvKqGqBPARod7GaQM7AMd4VXWHpPQTsZOBLt9BDHep4SR4J-jEWDa6CvOkzfGq9ae1wSnDv0tUCNEMiaSaL5IYKBkI3e9HnZPpEwOjOpeF05vuQ5BEauL1yaOibve8oGy5SDbj_kYe_aeA3bKBQBa5odRHNGSuLMSawEOKPgbsRt5GON_GLnK97440A/s1024/totnes_meetup.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="769" data-original-width="1024" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQvKqGqBPARod7GaQM7AMd4VXWHpPQTsZOBLt9BDHep4SR4J-jEWDa6CvOkzfGq9ae1wSnDv0tUCNEMiaSaL5IYKBkI3e9HnZPpEwOjOpeF05vuQ5BEauL1yaOibve8oGy5SDbj_kYe_aeA3bKBQBa5odRHNGSuLMSawEOKPgbsRt5GON_GLnK97440A/w400-h300/totnes_meetup.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An unexpected meetup with Lucy and Charlie at Totnes Railway Station</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;">The following day, we took the train back to London, so that we could visit Alex's parents for the remainder of his Easter holidays. We had a lovely time and the weather was fairly pleasant, on the whole. Alex and his dad took part in Peckham Rye Parkrun on the Saturday, and then the children did the Junior Parkrun on Sunday morning, which was good fun. Zach wanted to run with Alex (who had run with Beth previously) and so I agreed to run with Beth. Having not done any running myself for a good few years now, I was secretly worried that I might struggle to keep up with her but, thankfully, I was able to keep pace. However, she didn't really want me to run with her so I agreed to stay just behind her, in case she needed me there at any point for moral support. This seemed like a sensible idea, but was actually a terrible idea since she spent the first few hundred metres constantly looking back to see where I was, and then trying to speed up in order to leave me behind. Clearly, running in a busy event whilst looking backwards is not the best idea and, when she eventually ran straight into a park bench because of it, I agreed to leave her to run alone, and so sprinted back and forth across the field around which they were running, in order to be able to cheer her and Zach on as they passed.</div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN81i5P1sDm9EbTnrDuOCsLM8eMjyXzc477v_zE-uStWNqECRU3GCHZ3G1xtOtasakuHCMR2A4wqhn0T37Kkac6UKTj5i0H5oGC_cZF7IFQM2WAmcxgDFPeN7_GtFxA6FQpXM_iSEZlf_Tim5leocvMEXPmTad9lsufxzUWQCkdCjBf5Hd4vzPnQRMKg/s4128/20230429_093812.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4128" data-original-width="3096" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN81i5P1sDm9EbTnrDuOCsLM8eMjyXzc477v_zE-uStWNqECRU3GCHZ3G1xtOtasakuHCMR2A4wqhn0T37Kkac6UKTj5i0H5oGC_cZF7IFQM2WAmcxgDFPeN7_GtFxA6FQpXM_iSEZlf_Tim5leocvMEXPmTad9lsufxzUWQCkdCjBf5Hd4vzPnQRMKg/w300-h400/20230429_093812.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Parkrun fun at Peckham Rye Park</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">As promised, we drove Alex back down to Devon on May Day via the model village in Babbacombe. Perhaps I have been to a model village as a child, but I don't really remember it so this felt like the first time I had ever been to such a place. What an amazing sight to behold! It certainly wasn't cheap, but when you consider the amount of time and effort that it must take to maintain over 4 acres of model village displays (including a river, canal, railway network, and even a fire-breathing dragon) and immaculately kept miniature landscaped gardens, it was well worth it. There were lots of fun things to spot along the way (such as characters from "Where's Wally" and a variety of oversized bugs) which kept us all engaged for hours. We also enjoyed a free game of crazy golf there. A really wonderful day out, and a lovely way to end our time with Alex. After stopping off for some fish and chips, we dropped him back to BRNC in Dartmouth, hopeful that we might perhaps get to see him over the Coronation weekend before heading back to Portugal.</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWGhhD-Jgl1vTv8vISYrLsK83g7HnBRmGhxmSGC2siGGAnVokMJU9qS0kU5xyK0BZBIs52OOZzjdkMDbZjmx9UNqRHoODscowVU7RMQPqjo-azpF8dal8MySMYZZynVLJiV1DWkdqOdDK8yBB3W73XtqcvCiuPvvpi5gq-8azSCxBmGrNsbN5ZVVKq0w/s4128/20230501_143427.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWGhhD-Jgl1vTv8vISYrLsK83g7HnBRmGhxmSGC2siGGAnVokMJU9qS0kU5xyK0BZBIs52OOZzjdkMDbZjmx9UNqRHoODscowVU7RMQPqjo-azpF8dal8MySMYZZynVLJiV1DWkdqOdDK8yBB3W73XtqcvCiuPvvpi5gq-8azSCxBmGrNsbN5ZVVKq0w/w400-h300/20230501_143427.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The model village may be small, but Zach still <br />needed a lift up to appreciate its vast expanse</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My cousin Lorna very kindly offered for me and the children to come back to their house in Westward Ho! for the week, and I gladly accepted this offer. This meant that we didn't have too far to travel, and could easily get back to Dartmouth the following weekend to see Alex if he had time off the following weekend. Unfortunately, it is very hard to plan such visits as there is often very little notice of whether or not Alex will actually have leave. Thankfully, Alex confirmed on Wednesday that he would have some time off over the Coronation weekend, so I hastily booked an Airbnb in Dartmouth from the few that were remaining and began to make plans for how best to enjoy the Coronation celebrations available in the area.</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq3Lr4v-KCgJpgi5eSzzl3PeCa_S0sNcD7KH8xnpReo3rx7BhRJvdcJvx98HDE6TxsoRz9AEkStWV2QOsma4RdShnhsddry0D-W4mcjgRKKIDWSJbuS6Ol6ojOS49De2ZN_36ZOF1GOglH_0IngxPC23-BDJJL4FEG8WjUBUSqq0ZpHGJwhkIj02kVRA/s4128/20230502_190401.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq3Lr4v-KCgJpgi5eSzzl3PeCa_S0sNcD7KH8xnpReo3rx7BhRJvdcJvx98HDE6TxsoRz9AEkStWV2QOsma4RdShnhsddry0D-W4mcjgRKKIDWSJbuS6Ol6ojOS49De2ZN_36ZOF1GOglH_0IngxPC23-BDJJL4FEG8WjUBUSqq0ZpHGJwhkIj02kVRA/w400-h300/20230502_190401.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying a pleasant dog walk back from Westward Ho! beach</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">After searching online for all available events in the Torbay/Dartmouth/Kingsbridge area, I came up with the following plan for the weekend:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><ul><li style="text-align: justify;">Saturday - watch the Coronation at home whilst Alex was completing some adventurous training, then collect him late afternoon and head to Paignton for the fun fair and fireworks</li><li style="text-align: justify;">Sunday - head down to Salcombe Primary School with a picnic for their Big Lunch and sports day</li><li style="text-align: justify;">Monday - head across the river to Kingswear for their Coronation street party</li></ul><div style="text-align: justify;">I must admit, I had some reservations about attending the events in Salcombe and Kingswear, as they are fairly small places and I was a little worried that we might stand out as being definitely not locals, but I decided that it wouldn't be a problem, since all events were advertised widely online with phrases such as "all welcome".</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMdUnO8UFTWSeWs-loZCUGq6CLooMJyfPfMEJ2MMRe9XaNWMoTlHN860sId68G1a-2gREcL7HWrvFOlIAztQPE60967wfkxSpfBtTADiLVcrXwOWTW6HQqltyH26zhDXSKsObBDGr6CaZK0AZd8kWU_ooYgjTg16lJszw5SnnRl4qCUD_2GOm98nEnlQ/s4128/20230506_173318.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4128" data-original-width="3096" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMdUnO8UFTWSeWs-loZCUGq6CLooMJyfPfMEJ2MMRe9XaNWMoTlHN860sId68G1a-2gREcL7HWrvFOlIAztQPE60967wfkxSpfBtTADiLVcrXwOWTW6HQqltyH26zhDXSKsObBDGr6CaZK0AZd8kWU_ooYgjTg16lJszw5SnnRl4qCUD_2GOm98nEnlQ/w300-h400/20230506_173318.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The children got to meet some baby dinosaurs at the fair in Paignton</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Saturday went to plan, on the whole. The children and I enjoyed the televised spectacle of the Coronation Ceremony and Parade, and felt very proud of the military precision with which the entire affair was carried out. We were especially impressed with the "Hip Hip, Hooray" from the military personnel in Buckingham Palace Gardens - that surely must have been the loudest and most impressive "Hooray" of all time! We collected Alex late afternoon, headed to Paignton and had great fun at the fair with the children. They explored the Fun House and went on the Dodgems for the first time, then we headed to Wetherspoons for food, to kill some time before the fireworks at 9pm. Unfortunately, the display didn't start until 9.30pm (most likely because it was a clear sky and, therefore, still light at 9pm) but it was an incredible display so definitely worth the wait. However, my lack of local knowledge meant that (having parked in the most central multi-story car park possible, with lots of road closures in place around the fair and fireworks) we got caught up in an almighty traffic jam along with the hundreds of other people who, coincidentally, also decided that they wanted to leave the town centre as soon as the fireworks had come to an end. After almost an hour (and some questionable driving, ignoring some minor signage such as "no entry" for a one way road), we managed to leave Paignton and, thank goodness, made it onto the penultimate ferry back across the river to Dartmouth. Missing the last ferry would have meant that we had to drive another 45 minutes around the long way!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7lX7jn8pqBKnueOM_GkIoEGzo1RnGLNCgJGuygKkZg1s5WiMq58Xf3mXMVntvSXh2nHNmz5JkskP0VtM76eSnHHLJlcLh5bm3-WFCcZMI9IjD0O2hKQaih6DO_GLgSDXJvzqQRgLoUfpKs_bGIAIunXVzO8WZvZo73xrWA4ljwXTSmQ4ptp-qkwxGYA/s4128/20230506_181907.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7lX7jn8pqBKnueOM_GkIoEGzo1RnGLNCgJGuygKkZg1s5WiMq58Xf3mXMVntvSXh2nHNmz5JkskP0VtM76eSnHHLJlcLh5bm3-WFCcZMI9IjD0O2hKQaih6DO_GLgSDXJvzqQRgLoUfpKs_bGIAIunXVzO8WZvZo73xrWA4ljwXTSmQ4ptp-qkwxGYA/w400-h300/20230506_181907.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dodgems Dream Team selfie</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">With Saturday having gone so well, we packed up our picnic of a rice salad followed by scones and cream, then headed down to Salcombe for our greatly anticipated Big Lunch and sports day. We parked in the long stay car park at the top of the hill, then were taken to the primary school by the very friendly Park and Ride bus driver. This was slightly embarrassing, as he literally drove us a few hundred metres before stopping the bus and announcing that we had arrived! What can I say... we had to save everyone's legs ready for the afternoon's events on the playing field! We walked into the school playground where there were lots of tables set up for those who had booked them. I had not done so, since I did not want to decorate a table (as was expected) and I also felt it might be a little awkward to sit at a table alongside the villagers of Salcombe, as outsiders. So, we looked around for where to sit down for our picnic (as the advertisement had said book a table or just turn up with a picnic blanket) and eventually settled ourselves down (sans picnic blanket) on an appealing patch of tarmac, next to a bin. </div><p style="text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXR9b9bcz2TXWnqLBPSxNxD1bdYYsokJWRRspa9_XubxB5HeXaFpoL50ZHof3skMZFgqQ0eSqdjjKyzPFFFikChLBqZDGgk-Z0-PDVu3mApOaptA00D63gfUlLFHblsrfn6Rj64rPNYNeU1yEhPp5FNQnNXe0pct38vzJyFWalvFYKLQ9Ichwq_59bmw/s4128/20230507_160414.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXR9b9bcz2TXWnqLBPSxNxD1bdYYsokJWRRspa9_XubxB5HeXaFpoL50ZHof3skMZFgqQ0eSqdjjKyzPFFFikChLBqZDGgk-Z0-PDVu3mApOaptA00D63gfUlLFHblsrfn6Rj64rPNYNeU1yEhPp5FNQnNXe0pct38vzJyFWalvFYKLQ9Ichwq_59bmw/w400-h300/20230507_160414.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reigning champions, feeling chuffed after their first ever sports day!</td></tr></tbody></table></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The picnic was a little awkward, to say the least, but we made the best of it and then hurriedly stood up and headed to a table area where children could decorate some paper crowns. Then came the announcement that the sports day events were about to begin, so we followed families heading that way towards the playing field, over a grassy knoll.... where we discovered hordes of happy families eating their picnics on blankets, on gloriously soft grass! No wonder people had looked at us strangely, seeing us sat on the floor in the playground! Ignoring this blunder, we ushered Beth and Zach towards the sports day races, and helped them to get involved in the afternoon's proceedings. Once again, this was a little awkward, as clearly everyone organising was either a teacher or a parent, and everyone knew the names of all the children... except ours! Still, Alex and I styled it out pretty well... we just got stuck in and behaved as if it was completely normal for us to be there, then watched as Beth repeatedly placed in the top three, taking valuable winners stickers away from the local children. Zach, bless him, worked so hard but, being one of the youngest there, he only ever got consolation stickers such as "Super Sports Day Star" for coming last or thereabouts. Actually, I tell a lie; he and Beth came second in the three-legged race! Regardless of placement, they both had a really super time and thoroughly enjoyed the classic events such as sack race, egg and spoon race, the 100m sprint and a tug of war. There were also adult events planned, but I forbade Alex from entering into them as I feared that he would win them all and then questions would be asked about our eligibility. However, he excused himself for a toilet break and then, on his return, managed to slip himself nicely into the adult tug of war without me noticing!</div><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf2RKIn_acxmTc0GwabKTtJZrjyabX214FR25V5Tzmfn0pXSahP1GW3xVjPoMlPyq-kWjsjXr6I6kqranfA-IyUODpW4sXbIgO5r72Q1MBcP3g8DYXXljW2FXCZg2Vh6znRt49_OnnJbey_aw-FWOoTOPrz_FaikQPOe5AQNKTAL3GCY-mb7ji9gHzhw/s4128/20230507_153928.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf2RKIn_acxmTc0GwabKTtJZrjyabX214FR25V5Tzmfn0pXSahP1GW3xVjPoMlPyq-kWjsjXr6I6kqranfA-IyUODpW4sXbIgO5r72Q1MBcP3g8DYXXljW2FXCZg2Vh6znRt49_OnnJbey_aw-FWOoTOPrz_FaikQPOe5AQNKTAL3GCY-mb7ji9gHzhw/w400-h300/20230507_153928.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex getting stuck in with the adults tug of war</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: justify;">When Monday came around, I just couldn't face the idea of gatecrashing any more village Coronation celebrations so, with the inclement weather helping to influence our decision in favour of giving the Kingswear Coronation street party a miss, we decided to head down into Dartmouth instead for a boat trip on the River Dart. How funny life can be; six months ago, I had never been to Dartmouth at all, and now I find myself heading up and down its river multiple times less than a fortnight! After the river trip, we walked along the coast from the town centre to Dartmouth Castle, and back again, before finally seeking refuge from the rain and enjoying our last evening at home with Alex. We said goodbye to him, as he prepared to head off for his six weeks initial sea time aboard an aircraft carrier, and we made our way back towards Gatwick airport, ready to escape the rain and head back to Portugal.</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiExa_c1eIux462k7byLgzyeYhecB8C9K03NXa-UXjDS8-BEFwwRm9-bztrJbAI87G4CW4Qo62HA3GUgEtpNoeJl6AA16Vabqr_zgL_VFPdTzWNDlEt6uQLXSgGqQ7juyFJctFImi5RrTy7CHJKBGqfxf4p_gGOs0K9soJ2t-WX5eSr85zMlphYro3N4A/s4128/20230508_151704.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiExa_c1eIux462k7byLgzyeYhecB8C9K03NXa-UXjDS8-BEFwwRm9-bztrJbAI87G4CW4Qo62HA3GUgEtpNoeJl6AA16Vabqr_zgL_VFPdTzWNDlEt6uQLXSgGqQ7juyFJctFImi5RrTy7CHJKBGqfxf4p_gGOs0K9soJ2t-WX5eSr85zMlphYro3N4A/w400-h300/20230508_151704.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An atmospheric view over the River Dart, from Dartmouth Castle</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06821472236408880197noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1229588946568695315.post-60500545157171908042023-04-22T23:32:00.003+01:002023-04-27T22:29:43.035+01:00Spring in Silves<p style="text-align: justify;">A month back in Portugal was just what we needed after our busy spell in the UK. Arriving in mid-March, we were in time to really appreciate spring in the Algarve, which is a wonderful time of year. The wild flowers cover the countryside and the peace is interrupted only by the buzzing of bees, happily visiting as many flowers as they can as they go about their business. My parents live in a valley near Silves; the ancient Moorish capital of the Algarve. The valley has a river which runs during the winter months, once the rainy season has started, and we love to paddle and swim in its clear, fresh water. It brings life to the valley; soon enough, frogs and toads can be heard croaking, harmless viperine snakes can be found clinging to rocks in the running water, and birds such as egrets, herons and storks come to eat their fill of the seasonal aquatic life. Outside of the valley, the Silves region is filled with thousands of well-kept orange groves. Driving around in our little red Peugeot 106 (which we bought at the end of last year), with no A/C and the windows wide open, the incredible scent of orange blossom on the warm air blows through the car, and I find it hard not to smile as I am filled with that wonderful feeling of warmth and contentment.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMP1QxDNXUvaTOVMiszyJBwKYWaSuTmRUNYyrsQCisv8cPiJm1tClCQDlPhm8pkhbFubDk6S405IYGoYlRWHrIeqITE1gwS1XZEQlsqTOVd7-_IS9Ilo0aOgJ4AHXFNjt7kJiSUqYLCz53ZZ4HASS7wloqTIxHdtSLfJohNGYO8Uxan2G4e04WZTrmtw/s4128/20230327_165652.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMP1QxDNXUvaTOVMiszyJBwKYWaSuTmRUNYyrsQCisv8cPiJm1tClCQDlPhm8pkhbFubDk6S405IYGoYlRWHrIeqITE1gwS1XZEQlsqTOVd7-_IS9Ilo0aOgJ4AHXFNjt7kJiSUqYLCz53ZZ4HASS7wloqTIxHdtSLfJohNGYO8Uxan2G4e04WZTrmtw/w400-h300/20230327_165652.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: justify;">Nêspera trees produce a delicious, sweet fruit at this time of year</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;">The children and I visited Hope briefly, mainly to pack our winter clothes away into her lockers and collect some more appropriate summer clothing for ourselves, but then returned to stay with my parents who were keen to spend some time with us. Their house is only a 20 minute drive from our land, so I was able to borrow my dad's brush cutter and spent a good few days clearing the ground between the fruit trees, in order to be ready for fire season. On these days, the children played happily for hours in the stream beside our land catching tadpoles, and around the land itself climbing trees and having all sorts of imaginative play. Unfortunately, I only got half way through the land before the temperamental brush cutter refused to start one afternoon so I had to take it back to my dad's tool shed in order to investigate the issue and, eventually, get it working again.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqiQKcJzOD-hEDdZAHlnuA6pPQIIo2xO97pb02OYSAkdledSGHV-lbRLmbx0_mqalzkhU1LiJ3x5Xzcoqb5StVT5k40OpVftRtJs_IhlZnyoBZhStKlMWWFY_PeNdOUxCKejdWcILybCibuKIKAisjyVow0eZsoZBybflqpb6EjgKyexBJ73hZ7nfMyw/s4128/20230330_113750.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqiQKcJzOD-hEDdZAHlnuA6pPQIIo2xO97pb02OYSAkdledSGHV-lbRLmbx0_mqalzkhU1LiJ3x5Xzcoqb5StVT5k40OpVftRtJs_IhlZnyoBZhStKlMWWFY_PeNdOUxCKejdWcILybCibuKIKAisjyVow0eZsoZBybflqpb6EjgKyexBJ73hZ7nfMyw/w400-h300/20230330_113750.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div>Hours of fun paddling and catching tadpoles in the stream</div></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">During this stay with my parents, Dad and I spent a lot of time in and out of the tool shed fixing things... so much so, in fact, that we spent a full day organising and tidying it to make our lives easier, which felt great! We worked together on the Peugeot 106 (trying to fix a fuel starvation issue), fixing various issues with the brush cutter, gardening and land clearing, and assembling a storage shed for the childrens' new bikes. It was really nice to be working together fixing things, especially the car; Dad made a comment that it was just like the old days, and indeed it was! I loved learning how to fix our old cars with Dad growing up, and then having him help out with mine as I got older - it's just a shame that cars these days are so difficult to fix at home, due to the increased use of electronics (meaning diagnostic tools are required for most things). This is one of the reasons that I absolutely love our little Peugeot 106; at 30 years old, she is very simple to work on and fix, cheap to run and so much fun to drive. I would love Beth and Zach to experience the same joy of working on internal combustion engines as they grow up, but perhaps they will eventually become a thing of the past as electric takes over. I did use the opportunity give them some lessons on engines whilst working on the brush cutter, explaining about the differences between 2 and 4 stroke engines, but I think perhaps it will be a few more years before they really start to take an interest in mechanical engineering. For now, they are content to be given the tasks of doing/undoing fixings such as screw, nuts and bolts, and I'm happy with that!</div><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTU_Cl1OejHf2ihX8gXBoT7dwymY8XccZZceiVSemKhXNBnFT09CL0GePgxvsl0FG64g695fv86usLJcoCNvyiRthp8FIH26tK1-u_eXXvofNIzAQMnVa4INbjLRkv_AHtFokoKjVJkARsrgb8aTiH-EgniNR1GMX-FKj5GCesSmWTJ06H1JRi42dwZQ/s4128/20221110_170859.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTU_Cl1OejHf2ihX8gXBoT7dwymY8XccZZceiVSemKhXNBnFT09CL0GePgxvsl0FG64g695fv86usLJcoCNvyiRthp8FIH26tK1-u_eXXvofNIzAQMnVa4INbjLRkv_AHtFokoKjVJkARsrgb8aTiH-EgniNR1GMX-FKj5GCesSmWTJ06H1JRi42dwZQ/w400-h300/20221110_170859.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our lovely little Peugeot 106, which we have named Scarlet</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">One of the positives I've drawn from Alex being away is my realisation and reconfirmation that I can still do for myself the many tasks that Alex usually takes care of. I think that it is fairly normal in any relationship for each person to assume a certain role and take on certain tasks (usually those that they prefer doing, I would hope), which can perhaps lead to the other person losing confidence in their own ability in this area. A classic example is driving; I see a lot of cases whereby one person does all the driving and, eventually, the other loses confidence in their own driving, which always seems like a shame to me. Anyhow, in the case of myself and Alex, the main thing that Alex always takes care of is anything relating to electrics and electronics. This is mostly due to him being so passionate about it, whereas I am not, so it makes sense for him to assume this role. However, with him away, I stepped up to the plate and found myself using a multi-meter to test a switch on the brush cutter, disassembling and fixing a belt on an old CD player and fixing some wiring on an electric scooter. Whilst I am more than happy to let Alex take over when he is around to do so, it feels good to know that I am still capable of fixing such things myself when he is not available.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRuUAzM71WsFSC34WTtTcftGEcuRrDbmrTBfuDxSUVzgLONHlmkC4Ok9yaWSow0kGdA42ewmX82lSlj3HZvv2ppIk6FEcT9eQ6CeO2sUQPVCMG5Nab-aMFAwlWTz8pRL3SToCdJKR8RVPHBBen-riBDQcPYNR57_bsye7myCJlaU_s_cYtDjLP0ShhgA/s4032/80774719-e31d-4aec-a056-de5c9e9b8868.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRuUAzM71WsFSC34WTtTcftGEcuRrDbmrTBfuDxSUVzgLONHlmkC4Ok9yaWSow0kGdA42ewmX82lSlj3HZvv2ppIk6FEcT9eQ6CeO2sUQPVCMG5Nab-aMFAwlWTz8pRL3SToCdJKR8RVPHBBen-riBDQcPYNR57_bsye7myCJlaU_s_cYtDjLP0ShhgA/w300-h400/80774719-e31d-4aec-a056-de5c9e9b8868.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying a freshly squeezed orange juice after a haircut</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">I briefly mentioned the children having new bikes; this is due, in part, to Zach learning to ride a bicycle within the last few weeks! One morning, Beth raced outside clutching her skateboarding safety gear (knee and elbow pads, wrist guards, etc.) and announced she was teaching Zach how to ride. I didn't think much would come of it, since the bike she was trying to teach him on was way too small for them both and has become very stiff and rusty over the past few years but, blow me down, she was soon calling me outside to see the little guy pedalling along on it! I was amazed, and very proud of Beth for taking the time to teach Zach to ride! I decided that it was time to get them both a bicycle that would allow them to ride properly up and down the valley, and what a great decision it was. Now, instead of nagging the children to keep up when we walk down the valley, I find myself running trying to keep up with them! Zach's riding went from wobbly to wonderful in a matter of days, with him working so hard at it every day, and they have been having so much fun. What with all the riding and lots of swimming, I've never known them go to sleep so quickly at the end of the day!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi119sqn1AKkEpZOUFY9lIdlq8x490EGqvEIFYIOCECOvOp5okmupG_JIsvgMDfRw9TZDnNVLOgJBnPL1o4tqmyP104Bs44sIWUvMWpeMUdxyvLty9V6c7uhTF7V11t77abujHHxtDDYEYSuQAulNer_aoJconMgtrWmYMBJDvP0bmNeuJvFqKwdOsl0g/s4128/20230401_133139.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4128" data-original-width="3096" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi119sqn1AKkEpZOUFY9lIdlq8x490EGqvEIFYIOCECOvOp5okmupG_JIsvgMDfRw9TZDnNVLOgJBnPL1o4tqmyP104Bs44sIWUvMWpeMUdxyvLty9V6c7uhTF7V11t77abujHHxtDDYEYSuQAulNer_aoJconMgtrWmYMBJDvP0bmNeuJvFqKwdOsl0g/w300-h400/20230401_133139.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zach, ready to ride, on his new bicycle</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">The week after Easter, Alex flew out to join us for a week in Portugal; his first proper holiday since starting his training back in January! Unfortunately, due to signalling issues with the UK trains, he had a complete nightmare of a journey from Dartmouth to Bristol Airport. Thank goodness, he did manage to get to the airport on time (with the help of a taxi or two) and the children were overjoyed to meet him at Faro airport, where we held up a large, handmade sign to welcome him in. We spent a night together on Hope and visited the land together a few times over subsequent days, to talk about possible future plans, prune some trees, organise some land clearing and chat/drink coffee with our lovely Italian neighbours. Mainly, though, the week has been spent enjoying the sunshine, eating lots of good food and spending quality time together with family and friends. Alex fitted in some physical training, running up the valley and around the park whilst the children cycled, and he even got to take an afternoon nap one day. This must have felt like an absolute luxury since sleeping during the day is completely forbidden at BRNC! </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyJGAduU7uepkN3U77OfnNL1dj1jwlI4eqSkMCXml27E-tLYEJCc4ldQPEmOtHj4XFsAvGTRmKroE2v5zsQ2JOlTmFWAIrDtoJfn5CmoSEZf9mNuPZGViJapqlvRI-KLCjG7TaYLaiTJwSn-JOcTte7oYkIdcdAjACNNZ96BpFLk8oo9MUZsAOBvF0eg/s4128/20230415_154044.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyJGAduU7uepkN3U77OfnNL1dj1jwlI4eqSkMCXml27E-tLYEJCc4ldQPEmOtHj4XFsAvGTRmKroE2v5zsQ2JOlTmFWAIrDtoJfn5CmoSEZf9mNuPZGViJapqlvRI-KLCjG7TaYLaiTJwSn-JOcTte7oYkIdcdAjACNNZ96BpFLk8oo9MUZsAOBvF0eg/w400-h300/20230415_154044.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy to be reunited with Officer Cadet Mitchell at last!</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Now, having acclimatised to the warmth of Portugal, we have headed back to the UK for the second week of Alex's Easter break, in order to go sailing with my cousin and her husband in their new boat. We are aiming to sail her from south to north Devon, around the south-west tip of the United Kingdom. I am very much looking forward to this trip although, having landed back in the UK this afternoon, I do wonder whether I was a little premature in packing away my winter clothes on Hope last month!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge_hle17GVvMoZWeyQ9u9HB63w4poDtHADaltcwqW2DT_JAEXuqjbEq92BI7gf9bOVBvtBLreja-K_Q5OhN_mBazAPs6-WUsDfFY069utRo8qM0HDGN9bxnKq1j7KWzC4vcy0SwmInZvhcQzOPAJtgXr7SfH5vrW93WI3muD6qNJJr_IzlH2IGt5oEbQ/s1600/d100f249-56c9-44c2-ac26-7be3e7f92a1a.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge_hle17GVvMoZWeyQ9u9HB63w4poDtHADaltcwqW2DT_JAEXuqjbEq92BI7gf9bOVBvtBLreja-K_Q5OhN_mBazAPs6-WUsDfFY069utRo8qM0HDGN9bxnKq1j7KWzC4vcy0SwmInZvhcQzOPAJtgXr7SfH5vrW93WI3muD6qNJJr_IzlH2IGt5oEbQ/w300-h400/d100f249-56c9-44c2-ac26-7be3e7f92a1a.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying a final meal in Silves before heading back to the UK</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06821472236408880197noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1229588946568695315.post-82205381052707407402023-03-30T01:57:00.003+01:002023-04-01T01:11:24.773+01:00On the Road<p style="text-align: justify;">A month since my last blog post. I bet you were starting to wonder whether my motivation had waned and that was the last you would hear from me? Well, not exactly. The truth is that, having been in the UK for the past month or so, travelling around visiting family, friends and Alex when we can, I found there was not much of interest to be writing about. The last thing I want to do is bore people with tales of hours spent in hotels, Airbnbs and hire cars, unless there is some purpose to these tales. So, now that this period has come to an end, it feels like a natural time to reflect back upon it and put pen to paper, as it were.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRz7fv7Mm3EIfb6O12i_flJJlUvCkyAShblLj8gRdSfG3a1HPDbRrdbLk0pVcW2zHOzCaeLZHxtJ6pOhcHxGYfHmGZLAJGojhAr3W2IuhfNkPZmLngD_YFUirw4QKBNqAoWBooH2sWOoloypZHctDwuxTU5xA960BPQxaMyXtlaHUf7Cl9ic1CSdDjuA/s4128/20230226_085321.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRz7fv7Mm3EIfb6O12i_flJJlUvCkyAShblLj8gRdSfG3a1HPDbRrdbLk0pVcW2zHOzCaeLZHxtJ6pOhcHxGYfHmGZLAJGojhAr3W2IuhfNkPZmLngD_YFUirw4QKBNqAoWBooH2sWOoloypZHctDwuxTU5xA960BPQxaMyXtlaHUf7Cl9ic1CSdDjuA/w400-h300/20230226_085321.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The children's first ever Junior Parkrun, in Peckham Rye Park with Grandpop!</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">As mentioned in my last post, I managed to organise some longer visits to stay with both mine and Alex's family, and these periods were invaluable for providing both myself and the children with some rest, relaxation and stability. I was able to get back into a nice routine with homeschooling, and made the most of being in London by taking the children on a "school trip" to the Natural History Museum, with Alex's mum. The children and I were also able to show off some of our new (albeit slightly underwhelming) cookery skills acquired in Turkey, making <a href="http://wildgreensandsardines.com/2020/04/spinach-leek-feta-gozleme-recipe.html">gözleme</a> (Turkish pancakes), <a href="https://www.turkishfoodtravel.com/2020/07/17/turkish-bulgur-salad-kisir/">kısır</a> (a Turkish salad with bulgar wheat) and <a href="https://cookingorgeous.com/blog/turkish-cookies-elmali-kurabiye/">elmali kurabiye</a> (Turkish apple cookies) for anyone willing to try them. To be honest, none of these dishes taste anywhere near as good when cooked by me as they did when Hatice made them in Turkey, but I am improving every time and it is fun to practise them.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8_WCQQ3NxxrUmocUthk3gzwEcxE-CQR7WZgyYbvyNHL-uzzsoX93K0jEsbL2lyh_SIgPrnzcX8K79jJw0K3gDZFc86Q5R9aoEVkDL3dfn-CDbrkitFG4WVwTXbxu7oNdg3xGsiZlwtNo92NMTvu6TKB_2-WU2tUUsxIMm_y-cxFlDP6SxuoX4o_SixA/s4128/20230305_093918.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4128" data-original-width="3096" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8_WCQQ3NxxrUmocUthk3gzwEcxE-CQR7WZgyYbvyNHL-uzzsoX93K0jEsbL2lyh_SIgPrnzcX8K79jJw0K3gDZFc86Q5R9aoEVkDL3dfn-CDbrkitFG4WVwTXbxu7oNdg3xGsiZlwtNo92NMTvu6TKB_2-WU2tUUsxIMm_y-cxFlDP6SxuoX4o_SixA/w300-h400/20230305_093918.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making Turkish apple cookies for Uncles Ben and Ash</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">After a few weeks of said stability, I picked up another hire car from Stansted Airport and began driving around the country again, visiting Alex and seeing friends, staying in cheap hotels in between. Unfortunately, the Navy doesn't always give Alex much notice of weekend leave during this initial training period, which made it rather difficult to plan when we could see him. We were unexpectedly allowed a weekend with him after he had spent a gruelling week on Dartmoor, and we stayed near Brixham in a lovely Airbnb on a golf course. We spent an afternoon doing a detective mystery style <a href="https://www.treasuretrails.co.uk/">Treasure Trail</a> in Brixham. This was the first time we've done one of these trails, and we thoroughly enjoyed it. We downloaded and printed the booklet in the library, followed the clues around the old town and harbour, eliminating suspects to discover who committed the crime (in this case, the murder of a fisherman). It was a really great way of exploring the town and definitely worth the £9.99 that we paid for it.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihfG03d6lbi_oWooK-pvMkM6rOdX5dd32YreauisaIHZSuYP_39Z8rZWlBfT-Y9d0b01AH2E0WlL99on_16OF-A5YQ5hOZiUixow0u296D3pFAqpONVonwYSRSAf2a9mbgYd-HRA4gzv4My68Omv9LTSctKX_EbDj2a1ngQh5gh5FYt76Eorv3f6V0ZQ/s4128/20230312_092707.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihfG03d6lbi_oWooK-pvMkM6rOdX5dd32YreauisaIHZSuYP_39Z8rZWlBfT-Y9d0b01AH2E0WlL99on_16OF-A5YQ5hOZiUixow0u296D3pFAqpONVonwYSRSAf2a9mbgYd-HRA4gzv4My68Omv9LTSctKX_EbDj2a1ngQh5gh5FYt76Eorv3f6V0ZQ/w400-h300/20230312_092707.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another Junior Parkrun; this time in Paignton with Dad!</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">On the Sunday morning, we headed to Paignton where the children did Junior Parkrun, before heading to the local Wetherspoons for a well-deserved full English breakfast. Afterwards, we walked to the seafront and took a stroll along the pier, where I changed £1 each for the children into 2p pieces and they experienced arcade machines for the first time. Unfortunately, I didn't really explain to Zach properly how the machine worked, so he was under the false impression that he was definitely going to get the little dinosaur toy out of his machine, which was teetering at the edge of the pile of 2p pieces. However, despite us putting all his coins in, as well as a few more which did get pushed out, the dinosaur toy stayed put, ready to entice another hopeful punter to feed the machine with some 2p pieces. Poor little Zach cried his heart out, then his disappointment turned to anger and he declared that next time he would not put his money in that machine but would save it and buy a toy in the shop. I was impressed; at just 4 years old, he has learned a very important life lesson about the perils of gambling! Let's hope he remembers that lesson throughout his life.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY7qjRtdBiQMSckbXYiISO34DmtJChuEPQLCVSk18D0ocpbe-Yw0TNrzpDpq0Qsue34gwNv2TvxUURYyWz_ujDqZnd55uQKR0chzyzlb7QEYEEsK1h4TuLwUZoOLOSB9aGhJrCL6Ax6MhxWvDgK1Nu2tMJFPXf1EYn0ci44RKhjE_MKDuKz1fGAjJTbw/s3683/20230314_125419.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2580" data-original-width="3683" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY7qjRtdBiQMSckbXYiISO34DmtJChuEPQLCVSk18D0ocpbe-Yw0TNrzpDpq0Qsue34gwNv2TvxUURYyWz_ujDqZnd55uQKR0chzyzlb7QEYEEsK1h4TuLwUZoOLOSB9aGhJrCL6Ax6MhxWvDgK1Nu2tMJFPXf1EYn0ci44RKhjE_MKDuKz1fGAjJTbw/w400-h280/20230314_125419.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beth and Zach were very impressed with this Lego model<br />of the Titanic, in the SeaCity Museum</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Some bad planning on my part meant that, after this weekend in Devon, we had a long drive back to Surrey to visit Zach's godfather and his family mid-week. I made the most of the journey by also visiting some friends in Southampton en route, as well as taking the children to the SeaCity museum in Southampton, which was not far from our Ibis Budget hotel. We spent hours in the very informative Titanic exhibition there, where we learned a great deal about the ship, her crew and the disaster which befell them all. Whilst with our friends in Surrey, we attended a morning Forest School session, which both the children very much enjoyed. Ordinarily, during periods of extensive travel, it is very hard to make time for schooling, so it was great that during this week we found time for a couple of good schooling sessions, before driving all the way back down to Dartmouth to see Alex for a few short hours over the weekend. We didn't get much time with him, but managed to squeeze in a trip on the Kingswear to Paignton steam railway!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizmdKScxU_I3I4F15KsXDAOoPk8yQC1QscssxZ5qAYQhRPiMFObDLq32YdjCMkqFDR0xsVZfANOdS4grbjNFidTpHxc-Xf2PtI-9bEar5rNPY7jf2NAVDbBHQzzEjWtqf4nyGZvWpZ1EOhSDWTcS5Ey5gGmwBnrryFy6OINl1vpvAemPtetWLL2tXJDg/s4128/20230318_151053.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizmdKScxU_I3I4F15KsXDAOoPk8yQC1QscssxZ5qAYQhRPiMFObDLq32YdjCMkqFDR0xsVZfANOdS4grbjNFidTpHxc-Xf2PtI-9bEar5rNPY7jf2NAVDbBHQzzEjWtqf4nyGZvWpZ1EOhSDWTcS5Ey5gGmwBnrryFy6OINl1vpvAemPtetWLL2tXJDg/w400-h300/20230318_151053.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We enjoyed our ride on this steam train, as well as a picnic of scones and cream!</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">The following week we were due to fly back to Portugal from Bristol airport on the Wednesday morning... quite good planning on my part to reduce our mileage, except plans were scuppered by the fact that Zach's passport took almost a month to be returned by the passport office! It finally arrived on the Friday before our final weekend with Alex, but I decided that I didn't want to risk getting it posted to Bristol with Royal Mail, with so little time before our flight. So, just to make full use of the unlimited mileage allowance on our hire car, we drove all the way back to south-east London on the Monday afternoon, and then back to Bristol again Tuesday afternoon. I was certainly glad to return the hire car at 4am on the Wednesday morning before our early flight to Faro, and be done with driving for a while!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzNsaCbo_g4-PzmE2e8iwT-3MuxaPTtYJxjVtFlJDqmi6CZsrTx3FTfBFfqZJd3BigWxaPATqcFHSPpbFH8LuQzD7HxqE3DuDJqqOFNXNpZ2OIFs7zl5tQMS5NJAnaGOQvTrh1OpI0HpORa2lvueYWDi9BIFBvOHtP30ipu1wWo_clFXKUHjjgVXa7fQ/s4128/20230319_085149.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzNsaCbo_g4-PzmE2e8iwT-3MuxaPTtYJxjVtFlJDqmi6CZsrTx3FTfBFfqZJd3BigWxaPATqcFHSPpbFH8LuQzD7HxqE3DuDJqqOFNXNpZ2OIFs7zl5tQMS5NJAnaGOQvTrh1OpI0HpORa2lvueYWDi9BIFBvOHtP30ipu1wWo_clFXKUHjjgVXa7fQ/w400-h300/20230319_085149.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beth and Zach made me a delicious Mother's Day breakfast!</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Whilst I do generally love a good road trip, I find that extended travelling in the car with the children is not my favourite way to spend time, especially in the UK in the winter. On our road trip of 2021 from the UK to Portugal, we were able to stay in our tent most of the time, and save a lot of money on accommodation costs by doing so. In the UK in March, this is just not practical, and the alternative is either staying with friends and family or forking out a massive amount of money on hotels and Airbnbs. It is almost impossible to find a cheap room for the night these days, and I am usually paying £50-100 per night for a room. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDwVIlz6UlJRyp0XUy6AxofGXNbP7hQQVM9sbn_Db83a3l9Dc6oLiyuoVLLeXD4ryJcYyFYpMl2_ded-8y2eBdedQYH40xHqCMZwODQqEjg7OOMgT2ifXRU0LFmMgUPAK2_h4vvmkvrXPGIZFCBmU_G6cqUJ55yWZHuAuGLG54OYMPO8iLTd_nXkvJDA/s4128/20230224_120752(0).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4128" data-original-width="3096" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDwVIlz6UlJRyp0XUy6AxofGXNbP7hQQVM9sbn_Db83a3l9Dc6oLiyuoVLLeXD4ryJcYyFYpMl2_ded-8y2eBdedQYH40xHqCMZwODQqEjg7OOMgT2ifXRU0LFmMgUPAK2_h4vvmkvrXPGIZFCBmU_G6cqUJ55yWZHuAuGLG54OYMPO8iLTd_nXkvJDA/w300-h400/20230224_120752(0).jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying the very realistic Tyrannosaurus Rex<br />at the Natural History Museum </td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Another challenge of being on the road a lot (as any lorry or van driver will tell you) is eating healthily whilst doing so. When staying with friends, this is not such an issue, but hotels rarely provide many facilities for meal preparation and, whilst an Airbnb often does, it is difficult to plan meals such that you aren't left carting around a load of leftover ingredients. We manage as best we can, snacking on fruit and vegetables in the car and in hotel rooms, and planning simple meals such as jacket potatoes in Airbnbs, but it is far from ideal and I often feel rather unhealthy and lethargic after extended periods of travelling in this manner.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ONMzUDhdJElJYcvSUtYmAmbeaMuFI_umeAURyHbGPY1Zv1U3LKU4SqGx2CZWYPcognSaDuuwk2xDa65b__NLHR4sZavyG2klT2NEflPS7b367iCuHGWdziuiiC5q5Q19v58_20PizesxyWUmwM60qbOc1VJAMasJFcXOZIVwDuGOt79z5Wc06sVDyw/s4128/20230314_171418.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4128" data-original-width="3096" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ONMzUDhdJElJYcvSUtYmAmbeaMuFI_umeAURyHbGPY1Zv1U3LKU4SqGx2CZWYPcognSaDuuwk2xDa65b__NLHR4sZavyG2klT2NEflPS7b367iCuHGWdziuiiC5q5Q19v58_20PizesxyWUmwM60qbOc1VJAMasJFcXOZIVwDuGOt79z5Wc06sVDyw/w300-h400/20230314_171418.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An evening meal in our budget hotel room in Southampton</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Finally, homeschooling is difficult when on the road for any length of time. After one weekend with Alex, we had to checkout of our Airbnb by 10am and could not arrive to our next destination before 4pm, so we had plenty of time to kill in between. I headed for a large Tesco Extra and we got breakfast in their large yet rather empty cafe, which we then stayed in for a good few hours doing homeschooling whilst nursing a coffee and some babyccinos. Thank goodness, when we eventually left, I checked the car park and found there was no time limit to parking there, as there sometimes is these days! So, by making the most of opportunities to study as they arise, as well as planning in some activities such as museum trips along the way, it is possible to homeschool on the road, but it is certainly not easy and takes a good deal of discipline and effort.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ED0aHWdjMXhTTMjMAA27VoJxuVv4RScbn9i6YDBqin4zWxSSMzQzgW0WLGZXVKMt75ZgsYPTsigOm0gi_Z40ItEdJQbMA6T0ekBd26Qe8FfM0mj_dpcIO6LD84Fg9WMxy-mpng9NUFfF1-tULJe4hpGRoO4v2Yw3UhN0W8I0igWQlfudYcj1atYVwg/s2040/mud_kitchen.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2040" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ED0aHWdjMXhTTMjMAA27VoJxuVv4RScbn9i6YDBqin4zWxSSMzQzgW0WLGZXVKMt75ZgsYPTsigOm0gi_Z40ItEdJQbMA6T0ekBd26Qe8FfM0mj_dpcIO6LD84Fg9WMxy-mpng9NUFfF1-tULJe4hpGRoO4v2Yw3UhN0W8I0igWQlfudYcj1atYVwg/w301-h400/mud_kitchen.jpeg" width="301" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Having fun in the mud kitchen at a Forest School session</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">All in all, whilst being on the road for a couple of weeks gave us the flexibility to visit Alex when the opportunity arose, and to visit other friends along the way, I wouldn't want to do a similar road trip again anytime soon. I mean, sure, I enjoyed listening to almost the entire 15 hours of the Chronicles of Narnia on Audible as much as the children did, and Costa Drive Thru has revolutionised my service station stops but, despite these positives, I just don't like living out of a car and being forced to spend money on unhealthy food and overpriced accommodation. Going forward, I need to think a little more carefully about time spent in the UK and how we can minimise our travel there but, for now, back in Portugal, I can just forget about travelling for a while and enjoy topping up my vitamin D levels again.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUlWTxKOyk3jlRBWSKS7q6XdD4-urOy61cRqIDBmuQDSAc551ynMC7A8fbYvVm7uNj_lsR9e4QM3-gQ3zelSqoH4-hAJREf63NEtGBi4r0paZWO2uhNWrTBYavDBxIb3Rewindi-7TCHsxaBeGOwkm6lRomo5DJ4P25Xj6Pc2GTTBw42Rx5XWPB2by7A/s4128/20230322_154208.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUlWTxKOyk3jlRBWSKS7q6XdD4-urOy61cRqIDBmuQDSAc551ynMC7A8fbYvVm7uNj_lsR9e4QM3-gQ3zelSqoH4-hAJREf63NEtGBi4r0paZWO2uhNWrTBYavDBxIb3Rewindi-7TCHsxaBeGOwkm6lRomo5DJ4P25Xj6Pc2GTTBw42Rx5XWPB2by7A/w400-h300/20230322_154208.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bridge building, after a swim in the river in my parents' valley</td></tr></tbody></table>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06821472236408880197noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1229588946568695315.post-6678107721405624402023-02-22T23:21:00.001+00:002023-02-22T23:21:06.697+00:00Good Cop, Bad Cop<p style="text-align: justify;">It's been just over a week since we said goodbye to Alex in Dartmouth and hit the road in our sporty, albeit slightly scruffy, Vauxhall Corsa hire car. I made the most of being in the South West with a set of wheels by arranging to visit friends and family around Devon, Somerset and Bristol, which was a nice distraction for us all. My cousin Lorna, who we visited first, convinced me to go to a boxing fitness class with her one evening. She assured me that I would be fine, and that my fitness levels would not be a problem... oh my goodness, she was so wrong! The class was really amazing; not at a fancy gym or anything, but at a real boxing club with people who certainly looked like they spent a lot of time in the ring, which was exciting. I thoroughly enjoyed swinging punches at huge punch bags; I really gave it my all and worked up a great sweat. Then, with about ten minutes left of the session, we finished up the boxing and I readied myself for a nice cool-down session, maybe some gentle stretching on the floor or something... only to be told that we were finishing up with the most frantic, physically intense circuits session EVER! It was absolutely crazy - I swear we fitted about thirty minutes worth of exercises into those ten minutes, and ever since then I've had trouble sitting up in bed due to my abdominal muscle being completely destroyed.</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBWBgP6Uy7YH98ZQWmLurZ2kry0L3qpv2udzWhzrKBGYScDrVgsxaXqIAlrflAPLvt6RsffVMcsUmhhsTyOxBnHWnYgVxBy4hj_C84LWuqBjtPBRZKBMV5cqsAKMKz4SR_PshijZctAJfTCuK-wpTxhd2R6SU2sMjo8SUIlYYdedW5t71QX_68bXUomw/s2048/marines_on_beach.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBWBgP6Uy7YH98ZQWmLurZ2kry0L3qpv2udzWhzrKBGYScDrVgsxaXqIAlrflAPLvt6RsffVMcsUmhhsTyOxBnHWnYgVxBy4hj_C84LWuqBjtPBRZKBMV5cqsAKMKz4SR_PshijZctAJfTCuK-wpTxhd2R6SU2sMjo8SUIlYYdedW5t71QX_68bXUomw/w400-h300/marines_on_beach.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watching the Royal Marines bringing their rib ashore on Instow Beach, North Devon</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Next up was a visit to the Somerset levels, to stay with some of my closest friends, Jane and Tuff. Over these few days, we quite a bit of driving with the kids in the back of the car and they started to really play up for me, arguing and being loud, and then disregarding my repeated requests for them to behave themselves. I tried my usual techniques (making them sit in silence for five minutes to calm down, threatening to take away X, bribing them with Y) but I just felt that I was fighting a losing battle, somehow. Eventually, I lost my temper and really shouted at them, which did the trick, but I didn't feel good about how things were developing. I got some great advice from Jane, when chatting about things later in the day, but I started to realise how much I missed Alex's authority with the kids. I'm not entirely sure why, as I don't feel that we are that different in our parenting styles, but somehow Alex commands more respect from them that I do. Well, perhaps I do know why... Alex often says I am too soft with them; I can be convinced to give them "one more chance" whereas Alex is very firm and will not budge once he has made a decision, and they know it. With Alex around, it doesn't matter too much as I can rely on him to back me up when I demand their respect, but without him here they seem to sense my lack of authority and I guess it is only natural that they then try to push the boundaries.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzmnsz5wdcDLOEUmjNTF8QoPq80A3qIvXrW8ZxCP6QPuKRAHMfXwPAlQYDJB8Gb9jt-PeeWBfcToIfe39v5_S2Ur0JzyLT_a5qFwluZZ6RMQ_SwHJPnxpJyksHSCfdUxcPq6cly1zzuKpQBpZMEO_iiIRnZmvdYp9dNgUFE91H_t8gVeVvkKfNVz4omQ/s536/skating.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="536" data-original-width="472" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzmnsz5wdcDLOEUmjNTF8QoPq80A3qIvXrW8ZxCP6QPuKRAHMfXwPAlQYDJB8Gb9jt-PeeWBfcToIfe39v5_S2Ur0JzyLT_a5qFwluZZ6RMQ_SwHJPnxpJyksHSCfdUxcPq6cly1zzuKpQBpZMEO_iiIRnZmvdYp9dNgUFE91H_t8gVeVvkKfNVz4omQ/w353-h400/skating.jpeg" width="353" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ice skating at the new rink in Bristol, with a penguin called Alex! <br />Not quite as supportive as the real Alex, but a useful substitute.</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">In Turkey, I realise now that we had a little oasis of calm. We didn't drive anywhere, there were no timetables or schedules to keep to, we weren't staying in anyone else's house and the children had the freedom to play indoors and out to their heart's content, once school was done for the day. I had very little need to tell them off or demand their respect, and the few times that I did, they listened. Now here in the UK, we've had almost the exact opposite. Lots of driving, plenty of plans to be in certain places at certain times and very little freedom to play outside unless I specifically take them somewhere suitable. We are staying either with family and friends or in Airbnbs for a few days at a time, and I am constantly reminding them to behave nicely, be polite, keep quiet, clear up their mess, pack their bags... it's no wonder they start to get fed up and push back. Especially when I consider the fact that their bodies have been adjusting to the three hour time difference, which has meant they've been waking up too early and then getting overly tired. Every parent knows that a tired child is like a little ticking time bomb, just waiting to explode!</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDfGyAOMj_Hf4D4lCGmZMb1cCIQf0FAvymmlKCjkrPT9-4lugBjbPttn-eeQf414LWwYf7yfm_IaXSL8ncG-l-wLhzzDwSceYtrn-Kgt3zKy55ZFPl0DLDiuFOZZnHnhT3wIFtdIloklZYgkeXOCVDwLNnFQrI1W10wpVATBG_N1XK4Pkib2ohx27yUA/s4128/20230213_121154.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4128" data-original-width="3096" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDfGyAOMj_Hf4D4lCGmZMb1cCIQf0FAvymmlKCjkrPT9-4lugBjbPttn-eeQf414LWwYf7yfm_IaXSL8ncG-l-wLhzzDwSceYtrn-Kgt3zKy55ZFPl0DLDiuFOZZnHnhT3wIFtdIloklZYgkeXOCVDwLNnFQrI1W10wpVATBG_N1XK4Pkib2ohx27yUA/w300-h400/20230213_121154.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A rare moment of calm in the back of the hire car!</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">With that in mind, I probably should have factored in some more down-time for us, in retrospect. The weekend, in particular, was very busy since we made three visits over the two days, with plenty of driving involved in between. On the first of these visits, to my cousin Jon's house in Bristol, Beth and Zach both started being really silly towards the end of our stay and I felt really embarrassed by their messing around. I kept my cool whilst in Jon's house, but when we got out to the car I told them off very sternly, telling them how embarrassed I felt and that I was cancelling my plan to take them out to lunch, because I didn't feel I could trust them to behave properly for me. As you might imagine, they both broke down into floods of tears - they were so upset to be missing out on their first ever Somerset Ploughman's pub lunch, and begged me to reconsider, which I would not. Eventually, I calmed down a little and then made a deal with them; if they behaved as expected for our second visit in the afternoon, I would buy the ingredients to make a Ploughman's lunch for their dinner. This bargaining did the trick - they behaved impeccably on our second visit to my sister's dad, Roger (with a little blip at the end due to Zach getting tired, but this I completely understood) and we feasted on a fine Ploughman's lunch at the end of the day.</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDQfa97KAw2A_lrssQsLathEvb_KPgfBVovfuXkbeUm1gVTNuFna9UTQsJeOBfdszarB4qirO4fex3UuAWkHsfFTPsA4yJD6JJGeeu-ARc1DbMV66xHuMR85LCQv7Vz_9JQy0eq63AFkjAAPJPNkQbdF_du1b2F7YO4XXJjmUBq-UQ7vG9UWMsOnobWQ/s3096/20230218_175054.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2431" data-original-width="3096" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDQfa97KAw2A_lrssQsLathEvb_KPgfBVovfuXkbeUm1gVTNuFna9UTQsJeOBfdszarB4qirO4fex3UuAWkHsfFTPsA4yJD6JJGeeu-ARc1DbMV66xHuMR85LCQv7Vz_9JQy0eq63AFkjAAPJPNkQbdF_du1b2F7YO4XXJjmUBq-UQ7vG9UWMsOnobWQ/w400-h314/20230218_175054.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Ploughman's lunch for dinner, in our cosy Airbnb</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I am starting to develop a newfound respect for single parents, or those who must parent alone for long periods of time for various reasons. That is not to say that I previously thought they had an easy time of it, because clearly having two parents around is always going to be easier than just one, but I didn't really consider anything other than the physical aspects of parenting. I now realise that there is an emotional stress involved in being the only parent on hand for long periods of time, because there is no longer the option to rely on the other parent to support you or the children in times of conflict. Sometimes, as a parent, the need to be firm and consistent means upsetting your child, as they have to deal with the disappointment or frustration at not getting their own way. At such times, I now realise, it is invaluable to have the other parent on hand to comfort the child who, in all likelihood, does not want to be comforted by the parent who has upset them. The classic "Good Cop, Bad Cop" routine. Without Alex here to be the good cop and give them a big hug when they are mad at me, I find it very difficult to stick to my resolve as the bad cop and not give in a little in order to try to cheer them up. Nobody wants to see their children upset, but I realise that must strive to find ways to comfort and reason with them, without undermining my authority. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqsLOwZUGXV-YZEBi2k5GC8gy7Ox5MBp36EH3p9-dv-_MlkFRupeq9nwsI45k_j5ndDlFB732yva9LXPcb1rGW4pkyReKb81FzwxMHPcI_oaOjmVM1aIAuojjwxcATJ0kUB2LvSWu1op5Ut7RGQkBw8moGR6DhL8eMDJvll0hoI4WLGjBmP3NBPuAd9Q/s2927/20230220_152913.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1910" data-original-width="2927" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqsLOwZUGXV-YZEBi2k5GC8gy7Ox5MBp36EH3p9-dv-_MlkFRupeq9nwsI45k_j5ndDlFB732yva9LXPcb1rGW4pkyReKb81FzwxMHPcI_oaOjmVM1aIAuojjwxcATJ0kUB2LvSWu1op5Ut7RGQkBw8moGR6DhL8eMDJvll0hoI4WLGjBmP3NBPuAd9Q/w400-h261/20230220_152913.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beth, riding a borrowed bike around Peckham Rye Park<br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Thankfully, we are now with Alex's parents for a week, followed by a couple of weeks with my brother and his husband, so we have the chance to relax a little, catch up on sleep and get back into our usual routine with respect to schooling. As much fun as it is to travel around with the children, it's important for all of us that I don't overdo it when making plans. I need to prioritise periods of stability and calm between our often hectic periods of travelling, to keep us all sane and happy. If I can minimise stress and take measures to reduce the chance of conflict, then I think I can cope with having to be authoritative when necessary, without feeling like a cruel and oppressive dictator!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfL3za4g8FtlNdWHayS-tlVdDoHoj9iY5tbW1ztatoKjnkFfgdSMgKoSVeHBa6PvfGy8ZhRWag19tT43GKVuW2J3HTwRxUBvOcwKzC-m6QYNy6FXFS3U6u-MsN594nKhLW2jRlNugiWO428G1jn3cM7zwO409zvmFUdE_bUmo_UtEZCFaJhbnEgAOoig/s4128/20230213_170225.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfL3za4g8FtlNdWHayS-tlVdDoHoj9iY5tbW1ztatoKjnkFfgdSMgKoSVeHBa6PvfGy8ZhRWag19tT43GKVuW2J3HTwRxUBvOcwKzC-m6QYNy6FXFS3U6u-MsN594nKhLW2jRlNugiWO428G1jn3cM7zwO409zvmFUdE_bUmo_UtEZCFaJhbnEgAOoig/w400-h300/20230213_170225.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A beautiful sunset over Westward Ho! beach</td></tr></tbody></table>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06821472236408880197noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1229588946568695315.post-2169810189155202442023-02-12T23:30:00.000+00:002023-02-12T23:30:55.178+00:00Family Weekend at BRNC<p style="text-align: justify;">We have just come to the end of the most wonderful weekend, spent with Alex down in Dartmouth. The Britannia Royal Naval College (BRNC) hosted a Families' Weekend, with various events going on over the two days, and the officer cadets were also allowed out of the college for the first time in over a month. The children and I picked up a hire car from Gatwick on Friday morning and drove to Dartmouth via Bristol (to collect some formal clothes, which my sister kindly took delivery of for us) and then collected Alex from outside the college after checking into our Airbnb. Actually, we completely failed at collecting Alex, since we didn't quite park in the agreed spot (due to so many other cars being there with similar intentions) so we finally managed to meet him down at a car park in Dartmouth town centre, which was only a few minutes walk away. It was so wonderful to see him again, and he looked so smart in his uniform! </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE5c2__l7PrapO8_LCn4e6z5UWJvV9zzw43RjHdvz7M1KluALGp2nFq3r2PS56oDZmh9fTcVP0KUcXeYbhRbRpV-wc6aDUpkCgPeGoLiDc_gCGvUuyW15Tc4XQ4dNiiZsROQvw4DvuKVXvCJicamHAcEK_neo9fUXZx1VNwU95Mib2qY8WrFCcuV_c-Q/s4128/20230211_153837.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE5c2__l7PrapO8_LCn4e6z5UWJvV9zzw43RjHdvz7M1KluALGp2nFq3r2PS56oDZmh9fTcVP0KUcXeYbhRbRpV-wc6aDUpkCgPeGoLiDc_gCGvUuyW15Tc4XQ4dNiiZsROQvw4DvuKVXvCJicamHAcEK_neo9fUXZx1VNwU95Mib2qY8WrFCcuV_c-Q/w400-h300/20230211_153837.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We were blessed with nice weather whilst visiting Alex in Dartmouth</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">The college are very strict about how the officer cadets must dress when outside of the college in public; they must wear their uniform at all times, and cannot wear anything other than their issued uniform. We went for a walk along the quayside in Dartmouth on the Sunday afternoon and it was rather chilly. The children and I wore gloves and warm coats, but Alex was not able to since he hasn't been issued any suitable gloves that would go with his standard uniform, and he would not be allowed to borrow mine. He was also unsure about whether to wear his foul weather jacket (since it wasn't really foul weather, but had just got a little chilly) so in the end just went out in his standard issue shirt and jumper. Thankfully, we weren't outside long before settling down to eat some fish and chips in a nice pub overlooking the river, so he didn't get too cold.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrtL0vjOKU1Fi8jL4hFL21FOltJpTz2DdDBHb1Cv8V_p76mB8wNqqD2T02NKh-Msk3NOhR97AziQphjrnMBg4CfWUtyZPleJEpTVatLzwvxQ4Gd2-ytJW6Ptn82fURBuJvfBisaaG-JTOoGCBHLMixXeDNS25bGMHmGGGUl8TGajiNHttF__DrND0ehQ/s4128/20230211_181404.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrtL0vjOKU1Fi8jL4hFL21FOltJpTz2DdDBHb1Cv8V_p76mB8wNqqD2T02NKh-Msk3NOhR97AziQphjrnMBg4CfWUtyZPleJEpTVatLzwvxQ4Gd2-ytJW6Ptn82fURBuJvfBisaaG-JTOoGCBHLMixXeDNS25bGMHmGGGUl8TGajiNHttF__DrND0ehQ/w400-h300/20230211_181404.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We cooked Alex gözleme (Turkish pancakes) for dinner on Saturday</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Whilst Alex did get leave to stay overnight with us at our Airbnb on the Friday and Saturday nights, he had to be back very early both mornings, so was up at 06:15 both days and headed straight off without having any breakfast. As it happens, the children are still partially tuned into the Turkish timezone, so they were up and able to see him both days before he headed off, and then we drove to the college ourselves to meet up with him there shortly after 08:00. The college is absolutely stunning and steeped in history; it was a real privilege to be allowed onto the grounds, and we very much enjoyed being shown around by Alex. In between the organised events, he showed us where he eats, sleeps and generally talked us through how and where he spends his time, which was interesting and insightful.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0DReeHzY16iN1oJ6yfynFM6yBfpWZDBJWlFO9Afob31YPb85tyNzSY8qcl7Ssr7t1EezNW9yxevh4ybfwIVPNVhh8A37yje1mCeqxbTj6H7zPY29XqByyWkP3vDuXpmeQ4yuaX_Euklx9i3dO38h9gTPhHklf_pPioIwL97Ldd94dgkJldOga8h_Ldg/s979/kids_top_bunk.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="979" data-original-width="640" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0DReeHzY16iN1oJ6yfynFM6yBfpWZDBJWlFO9Afob31YPb85tyNzSY8qcl7Ssr7t1EezNW9yxevh4ybfwIVPNVhh8A37yje1mCeqxbTj6H7zPY29XqByyWkP3vDuXpmeQ4yuaX_Euklx9i3dO38h9gTPhHklf_pPioIwL97Ldd94dgkJldOga8h_Ldg/w261-h400/kids_top_bunk.jpg" width="261" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taking the cabin inspection very seriously!</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">As we explored the college, we were introduced to a great many of Alex's colleagues and their families, as well as some of his superiors. In chatting to them, I was struck by how highly everyone thought of Alex and how well-liked and respected he appears to be there. Of course, I would expect nothing less; I well remember my early years at IBM when he was my colleague, and how much I enjoyed his company on a purely platonic level, but it is very pleasing to see that this is also the case at BRNC. Being the oldest in the intake could have made it difficult to fit in, but Alex is clearly very happy, has made a lot of friends and is easily one of the fittest there. He is also one of the most knowledgeable when it comes to all things nautical, and it was lovely to hear from others in his division (and their families) about how they look up to him and appreciate his support in this area. I could tell how much everyone valued him and it made me feel incredibly proud.<br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5mGZJhwjyVHU7gle8D3JdEwtuH1w4BsS2KaC94RIQ4bGiSS6gJne7jyPWnvvBZEDuZz9ui1il6ejhzvWw0wh7Tp6AX9Vc1g3AvZTHgPcfcaw9p5h7PRJe2SsdH5D-5X9oH9_WRVr84M-FslxGC0Pso4upbtFJ6XtyDa1cOfksgfyNa4bnMaza_t_r3g/s4128/20230211_090742.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5mGZJhwjyVHU7gle8D3JdEwtuH1w4BsS2KaC94RIQ4bGiSS6gJne7jyPWnvvBZEDuZz9ui1il6ejhzvWw0wh7Tp6AX9Vc1g3AvZTHgPcfcaw9p5h7PRJe2SsdH5D-5X9oH9_WRVr84M-FslxGC0Pso4upbtFJ6XtyDa1cOfksgfyNa4bnMaza_t_r3g/w400-h300/20230211_090742.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The children were fascinated by all the model ships around the college</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Alex got permission to take the children to the playground on the Saturday morning, allowing me to enjoy a couple of presentations in the lecture theatre without worrying about entertaining the children. These I found very informative; it was interesting to see what how important the Royal Navy is in today's modern society. By maintaining a global presence and position of operational readiness, the Royal Navy is able to protect UK interests as well as supporting other countries around the world. It is easy to overlook the importance of having free access to the sea, but the reality is that over 97% of our internet and voice data travels to us via a network of undersea cables, and the Royal Navy is tasked with protecting this infrastructure. Additionally, 95% of Britain's economic activity depends on the oceans, so the strategic positioning of the Royal Navy around global choke points (such as the Strait of Gibraltar, Suez Canal and Strait of Malacca) helps to safeguard these vital areas, promising safe passage and encouraging free trade. Other very interesting topics included international partnerships between the Royal Navy and other countries, the importance of the Royal Navy's role in NATO, information about humanitarian assistance provided worldwide and some news about new technology being used by the Royal Navy and Royal Marines. By the end of the 45 minute presentation I felt very proud of our Royal Navy and was almost tempted to sign up myself.... then I had flashbacks to my very short naval career at HMS Raleigh back in 1998 and came to my senses. Alex is far more suited to the military lifestyle then I ever was!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-HxdTMq1wh7lJZ_zTJnbQKFBubsKSgLUUR81pQn1dEd_a01E0H4UpGpzo2Nqh0NuyPskm2qw4vViIZo5NBMd5uq0G94YmOjjIgS6_NyoWlSxTonCps6C0Gc4U9G1btthknrAuEUU7xIqcYQSdlIgJrY28-R3idiqfrwuNholSICdyeC4jwvhQPKThoQ/s1280/photo_2023-02-12_20-02-35%20(3).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="1280" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-HxdTMq1wh7lJZ_zTJnbQKFBubsKSgLUUR81pQn1dEd_a01E0H4UpGpzo2Nqh0NuyPskm2qw4vViIZo5NBMd5uq0G94YmOjjIgS6_NyoWlSxTonCps6C0Gc4U9G1btthknrAuEUU7xIqcYQSdlIgJrY28-R3idiqfrwuNholSICdyeC4jwvhQPKThoQ/w400-h200/photo_2023-02-12_20-02-35%20(3).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Whilst I enjoy some presentations, the children set to work hotwiring a helicopter</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">We were also shown <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4KnoV0q7wv8" target="_blank">a video</a> covering what the cadets have been up to over the past 5 weeks, which was enjoyable to watch. I thought it was fitting that Alex featured in the video doing some chart work, and I also caught a glimpse of him helming a motor whaler at one point. Unfortunately, there weren't many other clips of his division, since the officer cadet who was tasked with taking a GoPro around during their training in order to get some footage did not often think to bring it along. To be honest, I can hardly say I blame him - I can imagine that with life being as hectic as it is during this initial militarisation phase of training, capturing it on camera is not going to be one of the top priorities in the eyes of most officer cadets!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj82tEpwdQueFlLqxJcTGaV0LKkud37yf-HWvCLWfHzFPyjq4-fVgN4jsB8efsthLOshDmS0MWPdfXXXqy82fTcSluk3Vqy_xJliGZTEQwqniVETGePO6bzOUzRTUBMuerXZBblO8pMCM-XosSVBEvXIADWvvgmtV_9bMg6sw9s0XPMdADxARWXtFMSuA/s4128/20230211_153444.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj82tEpwdQueFlLqxJcTGaV0LKkud37yf-HWvCLWfHzFPyjq4-fVgN4jsB8efsthLOshDmS0MWPdfXXXqy82fTcSluk3Vqy_xJliGZTEQwqniVETGePO6bzOUzRTUBMuerXZBblO8pMCM-XosSVBEvXIADWvvgmtV_9bMg6sw9s0XPMdADxARWXtFMSuA/w400-h300/20230211_153444.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Exploring the college with these crazy kiddywinks</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">In the afternoon, there was a very interesting tour of the college, which sadly I had to leave partway through because the children were getting tired and finding it difficult to stay still for so long. Apparently, you can pay to have a guided tour as a member of the public, so I hope to return and do that in the future. The gentleman giving the tour was very charismatic and captivating, giving an interesting account of the college's inception and formation. I would very much like to hear from him the details of how the original HMS Britannia, which was moored in the River Dart, transformed into the impressive shore-based establishment which so grandly overlooks the river today. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5oEMmB1fS-SB7_hWhAEOn7Nn7HA3xEpuRzAqGccWJVWyWZ2jNBmaL0R7FEueY-L2-xppbcoYQ5SzVMpeBuURhsamU31E8oEM1YGH0rISMrZMHrpiHvSAH5nlmNvzrYbfwHH_xXatmnYJN7TeE6TW9PqmBx-V6Ib9HnkCbEUQ4-62zB86NEH_O6Xr_7A/s4128/20230211_143310.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5oEMmB1fS-SB7_hWhAEOn7Nn7HA3xEpuRzAqGccWJVWyWZ2jNBmaL0R7FEueY-L2-xppbcoYQ5SzVMpeBuURhsamU31E8oEM1YGH0rISMrZMHrpiHvSAH5nlmNvzrYbfwHH_xXatmnYJN7TeE6TW9PqmBx-V6Ib9HnkCbEUQ4-62zB86NEH_O6Xr_7A/w400-h300/20230211_143310.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex, taking part in the IMF demonstration <br />(he is in the fourth row back, fifth column in from the left hand side) </td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Following the tour, we were taken to the parade ground where the officer cadets gave demonstrations of their IMF (initial military fitness) and ceremonial training, before being dismissed for the day. Sunday morning, we were back to the college bright and early for a Sunday Church service in the College Chapel, followed by tea and biscuits on the Quarterdeck. Prior to the service, Alex introduced me to the Royal Navy Chaplain, or "Bish" as they are informally known; a lovely man called Peter. I had already met a "Bish" in training, who is part of Alex's division, and he is also a lovely man called Peter. How funny that our vicar in Oxford, who married me and Alex and christened both the children is also a lovely man called Peter! It seems that Peter is a very popular name for religious leaders, certainly in our circle!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZNkFa9vLhTCyR7Xij_lH5X8uMiewlfMbbFgaNHx5OnBlOnAoahjAcZjnmLmxCUHNJDUCzB-bFkDCCwtb_vJUO6SOb7MjpZgbCnjBfVvKPcanE7h5aqh-NBNHA7kEERk2v6a7vyl_nKCpHqoli0vmL04vZWshLybCpounqqZ2vN9__CP2aXUppftmyAA/s4128/20230212_160627.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZNkFa9vLhTCyR7Xij_lH5X8uMiewlfMbbFgaNHx5OnBlOnAoahjAcZjnmLmxCUHNJDUCzB-bFkDCCwtb_vJUO6SOb7MjpZgbCnjBfVvKPcanE7h5aqh-NBNHA7kEERk2v6a7vyl_nKCpHqoli0vmL04vZWshLybCpounqqZ2vN9__CP2aXUppftmyAA/w400-h300/20230212_160627.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's lucky that Beth can read this book without Alex's help!</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">After being dismissed by the Captain of the college, we spent the rest of the afternoon together with Alex, making the most of his company before he was due back at college at 20:00 on Sunday evening. It was really lovely just to relax together. Although, Alex got a little carried away with his relaxation during a reading session with the children; the poor guy is so shattered he just couldn't keep his eyes open any longer! After a 45 minute power nap, he was up and about again and the children soon had him attending a tea party in a makeshift den in the bedroom. Finally, he took them to bed for the last time this weekend, then headed back to his own bed BRNC, but not before ironing all of his bedding, of course.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqb2upEhfzhbT8pdc1fldhB7v6F0DIW2TAsGHVJk9rPRbTLr_Iw520myY0-LbRcEcx1FLzjo8ymcunpTVjPd5tuEQIO3ERmaKTlLpHMrCYusy8e5dw2wL6U-tcp-m3Dk6vODQDzFLWGVYO9vcfxKF9JIq2YikxqTAYbJ8jCZr8ImOw6tyaQKi6_ku9rg/s1041/family.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="1041" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqb2upEhfzhbT8pdc1fldhB7v6F0DIW2TAsGHVJk9rPRbTLr_Iw520myY0-LbRcEcx1FLzjo8ymcunpTVjPd5tuEQIO3ERmaKTlLpHMrCYusy8e5dw2wL6U-tcp-m3Dk6vODQDzFLWGVYO9vcfxKF9JIq2YikxqTAYbJ8jCZr8ImOw6tyaQKi6_ku9rg/w400-h246/family.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A rare picture of the entire family looking smart!</td></tr></tbody></table>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06821472236408880197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1229588946568695315.post-72778807838443362562023-02-09T23:44:00.000+00:002023-02-09T23:44:03.847+00:00Güle Güle Turkey<p style="text-align: justify;">Our final week in Turkey has been one filled with mixed emotions. On the one hand, we have been feeling sad knowing that we must say goodbye to these wonderful people, who have welcomed us into their home with open arms, treated us like family and made our time here so incredibly special with their hospitality, warmth and generosity. On the other hand, we have been getting increasingly excited about the prospect of seeing Alex again, as we prepare to return to the UK and head down to Dartmouth for a Families' Weekend at the Britannia Royal Naval College. Perhaps this is the best situation to be in, since it is hard to feel sad for long when there is so much excitement about what lies ahead!</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS2ibNFhCvJhtpAOZHokxK8IRimaXCLZ7g2X17Fr2j9ecn2-M8BG5p9-INm3l4vkxi7k4DRK_2m4PEYKvNv1jq0WUdX6NATCf_Wy4d70KEtLm9qhsASI3WLF_2Nde10Tlx9Qs67iBDvXYNiYecuP3hmBozNTNcFGqfJWR3qaLk5chRBalpkHkWnPpCcw/s1600/alex_sailing.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS2ibNFhCvJhtpAOZHokxK8IRimaXCLZ7g2X17Fr2j9ecn2-M8BG5p9-INm3l4vkxi7k4DRK_2m4PEYKvNv1jq0WUdX6NATCf_Wy4d70KEtLm9qhsASI3WLF_2Nde10Tlx9Qs67iBDvXYNiYecuP3hmBozNTNcFGqfJWR3qaLk5chRBalpkHkWnPpCcw/w300-h400/alex_sailing.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We are all looking forward to seeing OC Mitchell this weekend</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">I find myself feeling incredibly inspired by Hatice and Muammer, having spent so much time with them and learned so much from them over the past month. In many ways, it is hard to believe that they have only been living this way for 8 years; prior to this, Muammer was a policeman, working in different cities across Turkey. Apparently, in an effort to prevent corruption, civil servants such as police officers do not stay working in one locality for more than a few years, before being moved on to a new area of the government's choosing. Therefore, Hatice and Muammer spent years moving with their family from one place to the next, before finally settling down back on the family farm in Antalya when Muammer retired from the police force. In the relatively short time that they have been there, they have achieved so much that one could be forgiven for thinking that they have always lived this way! They are completely in tune with their land, their livestock and the seasons, using traditional methods of farming, cooking and preserving in order to sustain themselves year round.</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicHqiaBYsMY9oBtVKBQGyW--xrgHHJeUoll089YbpWoBzqUUmISwIbeSX2e9tiGP4idSZ6ze05ljqdhXVK_ox8S88i4bBysZfgiM-8C-n1o8-yFrlqKAqZO2RRR3CZ9H3sWjOoiaRMvtsvBvDnt__mPEs1Ci-X2wrs7QEk1sr9C07EteQjWWiRG4QPzQ/s4128/20230206_093123.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicHqiaBYsMY9oBtVKBQGyW--xrgHHJeUoll089YbpWoBzqUUmISwIbeSX2e9tiGP4idSZ6ze05ljqdhXVK_ox8S88i4bBysZfgiM-8C-n1o8-yFrlqKAqZO2RRR3CZ9H3sWjOoiaRMvtsvBvDnt__mPEs1Ci-X2wrs7QEk1sr9C07EteQjWWiRG4QPzQ/w400-h300/20230206_093123.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We ordered this breakfast from Hatice on one of our last days; <br />almost everything you see here has been grown and/or produced by her!</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">I was very impressed with how healthily they ate. Almost every meal contained masses of fresh produce, supplemented with olives, lettuce leaves, chutneys, preserves and fermented cabbage. Stuffed peppers, bulgur wheat dishes wrapped in lettuce leaves or cooked in cabbage, foraged greens with extra virgin olive oil and fresh lemon juice - their daily vitamin intake must be through the roof! Meat was not eaten very often; I asked about this and Hatice told me that, whilst they love to eat meat, it is expensive so they eat their own slaughtered livestock and they didn't have much available right now. Presumably they will have some later in the year, since most of their female goats are due to give birth next month. Speaking of which, Hatice and I had an amusing misunderstanding in this respect, whereby I thought she was expecting another grandchild and congratulated her, at which point she burst out laughing and explained that it was the goats giving birth next month, not her daughter! Google Translate is certainly invaluable, but not infallible.</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw4k4BfoNw45rUBZFqMhozZTs2zzYW0CEGW7MInmrbSTucVkU5evzYt5W0up2wZiDZczZU64kVCXdBwGmt62-Rne8tFw4ZSAKjzsbETTzdL2wteZ9tccLw4oQqoz7gKWwzJqZ9vTKnXp1-JEwlrPHelP1omoMYlDjdUJYddCEponJlJwf4vZdwfUXSyA/s4128/20230207_135307.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw4k4BfoNw45rUBZFqMhozZTs2zzYW0CEGW7MInmrbSTucVkU5evzYt5W0up2wZiDZczZU64kVCXdBwGmt62-Rne8tFw4ZSAKjzsbETTzdL2wteZ9tccLw4oQqoz7gKWwzJqZ9vTKnXp1-JEwlrPHelP1omoMYlDjdUJYddCEponJlJwf4vZdwfUXSyA/w400-h300/20230207_135307.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my kids with a couple of goats, who are expecting their own kids!</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Another thing that I really loved about living on the farm is how the wood burning stoves are completely fuelled by wood from the forest; sometimes felled and sometimes fallen, but never impacting the forest itself in a negative way. I found it very satisfying to go for walks into the forest gathering wood for the fire, whether that was collecting pine cones and dead wood for kindling or dragging back larger sections for cutting with the chainsaw. We would see neighbours doing the same and, in fact, it seems that neighbouring families work together in their collection of wood from the forest. One day, when we were dragging down some larger sections of wood from the edge of the forest, Hatice told me to leave the length of the wood I was about to bring, as she said it was for the neighbours. I found it heartening to see that humans can live so well in harmony with a beautiful pine forest, when so often in modern life we see such areas being exploited and even decimated for material gain.</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF_DzzD22eLL5bMqGqTUoI-j_H0EWmNPGFk_ea9xvvBegRgt4WeFc3GZ9Xd2JM_BQ0bp77wiTn_s2iUseTutvBzWA5o_lFxxbTIYrF0wFG27r8ccjTKPdEkLvnp0eHEiLNESnBKrJyLo_uFwtAF8wtSSQSE9VgTRtEIE3A9hdmqrp4DZqf4RKtuzcSEA/s4128/20230115_153142.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF_DzzD22eLL5bMqGqTUoI-j_H0EWmNPGFk_ea9xvvBegRgt4WeFc3GZ9Xd2JM_BQ0bp77wiTn_s2iUseTutvBzWA5o_lFxxbTIYrF0wFG27r8ccjTKPdEkLvnp0eHEiLNESnBKrJyLo_uFwtAF8wtSSQSE9VgTRtEIE3A9hdmqrp4DZqf4RKtuzcSEA/w400-h300/20230115_153142.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The firewood cutting/storage area also made a great playground!</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Still on the subject of fires, I was very interested to learn about how they generate fire lighting materials on the farm. In Europe, use of those white, chemical blocks is commonplace for lighting fires of any kind. Here in Turkey, however, they use a more natural method whereby they burn thin strips of very oily pine to start the fire. This is very effective; the pine fire-lighting strip is highly flammable, and burns hot for a decent amount of time. The oily pine is created by stripping the bark off a section of pine tree (one that is earmarked to be felled in the near future), causing the tree to attempt to repair itself. This results in the wood surrounding the wound getting saturated with pine oil, and this oily timber can then be kept separate and split into long thin fire-lighting strips when the tree is eventually felled. Simple, sustainable and easily obtainable.</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtfyzC_IQXMMYStC-6DgtNz6OY2UgkMGfNzjm1g-RfTwnUSQlVynDRFvGaVOc7tV1DzN2zk7sPUK1MxFXcFWrsYtji6NsRvoYO4RMMSOhuz8RWDMYI4jGUb7-en5sxAfgjv_TIX9mR6Hu4OK3iVx2ocaE7COfRpOV4UVEISwaJQlrqZOPt2qeqhiSkfw/s1373/20230122_132205.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1373" data-original-width="988" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtfyzC_IQXMMYStC-6DgtNz6OY2UgkMGfNzjm1g-RfTwnUSQlVynDRFvGaVOc7tV1DzN2zk7sPUK1MxFXcFWrsYtji6NsRvoYO4RMMSOhuz8RWDMYI4jGUb7-en5sxAfgjv_TIX9mR6Hu4OK3iVx2ocaE7COfRpOV4UVEISwaJQlrqZOPt2qeqhiSkfw/w288-h400/20230122_132205.jpg" width="288" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beth, looking rather serious, next to a pine tree <br />which has been wounded to produce fire-lighting materials</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">As we say "güle güle" (goodbye) to Turkey, I reflect on what we will take away from the trip. If it were down to Zach, we'd be taking away a bag full of empty shotgun cartridges, a selection of old shoes, various plumbing fittings and a host of other "treasure" that he has collected during his time here. Beth would be likely to smuggle a cat and a few chickens in her bag, given half a chance. In actual fact, upon arrival at the airport this afternoon, I did discover Beth had filled her pockets with masses of the purple variety of myrtle berries. These stain everything blue (including the mouth of the consumer) so I convinced her to bin them all before we went through security, promising to replace them with some other berries upon arrival in the UK (which I have now done). Material items aside (especially as I don't want to be reminded of the plastic container of olives which split and leaked all over our hand luggage), I think the main points I will take away from this trip are:</p><p></p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li style="text-align: justify;">The certainty that we can easily and quickly learn a new language when immersed in it</li><li style="text-align: justify;">The knowledge that it is possible to live sustainably and in harmony with nature</li><li style="text-align: justify;">The inspiration that this can be achieved at any point in our lives, no matter how late, and in a relatively short amount of time, for anyone driven to do so and willing to work at it</li></ol><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5jqFa7JOm859JevW2MYOvh2JUUML1Di_L3dI75oCz0wP0ExeunMYkKmmStZ6invQZBxF84C8cQ3ThIUYEZl9Ivced6A50bx4-vDPtVTolFa6NSdrsfbh7OnyG48Qrti6Q6CwKG748htn8xecd_DaVq5fnaWaMLQAliZeANdlXumxUy2adN0n-Zvq4dA/s4128/20230118_110559.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4128" data-original-width="3096" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5jqFa7JOm859JevW2MYOvh2JUUML1Di_L3dI75oCz0wP0ExeunMYkKmmStZ6invQZBxF84C8cQ3ThIUYEZl9Ivced6A50bx4-vDPtVTolFa6NSdrsfbh7OnyG48Qrti6Q6CwKG748htn8xecd_DaVq5fnaWaMLQAliZeANdlXumxUy2adN0n-Zvq4dA/w300-h400/20230118_110559.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We will miss this gorgeous forest, and Super Meowsers!</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p></p>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06821472236408880197noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1229588946568695315.post-44789589265474685382023-02-03T18:04:00.002+00:002023-02-03T18:07:24.270+00:00Foraging and Fowl Play<p style="text-align: justify;">It's incredible how quickly you can learn a language when there is no option to speak English at all. After just three weeks here in Turkey, I am amazed at how much Turkish the children and I have picked up. I still rely on Google Translate a lot, especially when being given instructions (to make sure I fully understand what is being asked of me) or having deep and meaningful conversations over a cup of tea, but I find we need to use it less and less for day-to-day life and interactions. Zach ate a hot chilli pepper at dinner with Hatice this week, which was hotter than he expected (despite both Hatice and myself telling him they were very spicy) and the heat took his breath away. His little eyes started to water, he gulped and gasped for breath, then cried out "su!" meaning water, which really surprised me! Whilst gathering "mersin" (myrtle) berries one day, I could hear Beth talking to Zach around the other side of the bush saying "topla Zach, topla" which means "gather Zach, gather" - I guess she has heard Hatice saying it to us enough times when picking olives!</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiLQMBc06iT_KOD3B8GBPUcT2dowyGvBMhSqAf9xltFbww2m9yQvePU0-tEZEjU7Lc5dcWXKTTAZCVz4l8PK5af6b78UOBELOThHj0ye8Cywb1dvcjd81R6wUKrhknb9zeTnoYgQhtuuPDdFPvHsYfbbvaDz_yFB9UWGbWYs_AxmD2axrC764HQ5zvMg/s4128/20230131_163547.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiLQMBc06iT_KOD3B8GBPUcT2dowyGvBMhSqAf9xltFbww2m9yQvePU0-tEZEjU7Lc5dcWXKTTAZCVz4l8PK5af6b78UOBELOThHj0ye8Cywb1dvcjd81R6wUKrhknb9zeTnoYgQhtuuPDdFPvHsYfbbvaDz_yFB9UWGbWYs_AxmD2axrC764HQ5zvMg/w400-h300/20230131_163547.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Myrtle berries - there is also a purple variety here, but they aren't as sweet</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">The myrtle berries are interesting. I'd heard of myrtle, but had no idea what it looked like or that it produced edible berries. I was intrigued when Hatice first showed us that we could eat these small, oval berries, which are mainly white with a purple-ish hue. We eagerly picked and ate them, but I was a little disappointed in the flavour, which is nice but slightly astringent. Nevertheless, we kept eating them and I took some home as I felt that the flavour might improve once cooked. Initially, I tried cooking them as a sort of stewed fruit dish to put on top of pancakes, but they didn't really soften sufficiently or taste as sweet as I hoped they might, once cooked, so I stirred the leftovers into a savoury vegetable-based dish. This is where they really came into their own! So, we have continued picking them regularly but, surprisingly, I even find that I enjoy them raw now more than I did initially - they seem to grow on you and I often find myself stuffing handfuls in my mouth rather than my bag when collecting them with the children! To be honest, the amount that actually makes it into our savoury dishes is rather measly, since Beth and Zach love eating them raw and are never willing to give me any of their stash for my cooking. We have saved some of the small seeds, and plan on taking them back to Portugal (as well as some pomegranate and grapefruit seeds) in order to try growing them on our land.</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQEJxGBLIpf8ToXWCdBdQprRSNISMbV5R_ElZ21nmRSEx7mMPDb6imAU0RYlTM08lIDTNVz48hAeDLOo2jjJCGxaZ3i_O_-UZFBgxHqTRR3QxvYaAvhPJAQp4r2wGghFKgF9MdwsrIoQjxnfkYW71mSegWud_coU7qnYwp4exuYDFKP71imMzU69-0cg/s3513/20230201_131727.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3513" data-original-width="3096" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQEJxGBLIpf8ToXWCdBdQprRSNISMbV5R_ElZ21nmRSEx7mMPDb6imAU0RYlTM08lIDTNVz48hAeDLOo2jjJCGxaZ3i_O_-UZFBgxHqTRR3QxvYaAvhPJAQp4r2wGghFKgF9MdwsrIoQjxnfkYW71mSegWud_coU7qnYwp4exuYDFKP71imMzU69-0cg/w353-h400/20230201_131727.jpg" width="353" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beth chops our foraged greens (this was about 1/3 of what we'd collected)</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Hatice also took us out foraging for greens this week, which was a wonderful experience. She had already shown us some wild radish leaves whilst we were gathering olives, and showed us how to cook them by boiling and draining, then smothering in lemon juice, olive oil, a little sour pomegranate sauce and some black pepper and chilli flakes. They are absolutely delicious, and no doubt incredibly nutritious. Anyhow, one day this week we went with her to collect more greens and we came back with a huge bag full of all sorts! Most of them just look like the other weeds growing on the ground, until you become familiar with the features and can begin to spot them. Beth got very good at spotting the different plants we were searching for, and would point them out for us to dig up. I recognised the look and smell of wild coriander, and asked the names of the others we collected, but they didn't really translate properly. One translated to something like camel hoof, but I've been unable to identify anything online with this name. It's funny because, prior to us foraging with Hatice, I would see her going out into the field occasionally behind our house and digging up something or another, and now I know what it was! When we got back home with our foraged goods, we washed them thoroughly outside in a huge bowl of water, then took them up to Hatice's kitchen where we chopped them up and Hatice cooked them with onion, tomato, some garlic and spices. This was all that was needed to produce the most tasty meal, which we all enjoyed tucking into with some Turkish flatbreads.</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLoHjaIHe2o7Vcr8-efsrWTK35UpkxRJX6EIkZnsdb_oXMKb8iYY9UUOWoQ8Y30UEFCgjkezbVwwuBGrVATGA16rmqanWxz9XHLF3mq5Ay6t-RHj4Gk2uXZx3s9k8b1_OiJvGjWVw1UWajCf4UmCs5-c-fIHsiM0z2XTGYQbBdHNmlqTmvmTkWRA-EYw/s4128/20230201_134707.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLoHjaIHe2o7Vcr8-efsrWTK35UpkxRJX6EIkZnsdb_oXMKb8iYY9UUOWoQ8Y30UEFCgjkezbVwwuBGrVATGA16rmqanWxz9XHLF3mq5Ay6t-RHj4Gk2uXZx3s9k8b1_OiJvGjWVw1UWajCf4UmCs5-c-fIHsiM0z2XTGYQbBdHNmlqTmvmTkWRA-EYw/w400-h300/20230201_134707.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying a delicious meal, made almost entirely from our foraged greens</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Despite the olive season being pretty much done and dusted, a storm blew through last weekend and managed to cover the floor with masses of olives that had still been hanging in the trees. Hatice and I were unable to resist the temptation, and set out with our buckets in hand to gather the spoils of the storm. It was very satisfying work, as the olives were great quality, easy to spot and plentiful! It's amazing how quickly one can fill a bucket when there are so many within easy reach of where you are currently working. I honestly don't think I'll ever be able to walk past an olive tree again without wanting to gather up any the olives from the floor underneath it. Whilst gathering this fresh crop of olives, I spotted a sizeable spider nearby which almost looked as if it had barnacles all over its back. I was intrigued, and called the children to have a look at it. We didn't get too close, as it looked large enough to give a nasty bite should it want to, but watched it scurrying through the undergrowth (where it was very well camouflaged) and I took a couple of photographs. Upon further investigation later that evening, I discovered that this was a female wolf spider carrying a cluster of spiderlings on her back! </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiP5Xb6V1GJ-K37X9TauWCvZojH-pxdkJ6HvCyBwNliS1_wJpHQ_3Q_7d4yNALnG_wFMAzKqKZda3kpilrQFyjQ3GJgEJmY9O2teHJ4-gVgg4yAE1qIyv5k47CkkcxWqLLHrg_i1peIHYc7NYOcTaAY8DOZdg7sIR4P7C55TPWfgj7q7pGp2CvJaOi0g/s1680/20230128_152041.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1260" data-original-width="1680" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiP5Xb6V1GJ-K37X9TauWCvZojH-pxdkJ6HvCyBwNliS1_wJpHQ_3Q_7d4yNALnG_wFMAzKqKZda3kpilrQFyjQ3GJgEJmY9O2teHJ4-gVgg4yAE1qIyv5k47CkkcxWqLLHrg_i1peIHYc7NYOcTaAY8DOZdg7sIR4P7C55TPWfgj7q7pGp2CvJaOi0g/w400-h300/20230128_152041.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The wolf spider carrying an impressive amount of babies on her back</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">As well as another tortoise, this week we saw a European green toad, which decided to seek refuge under one of the little plastic diggers in front of our house. Little did it know that, around 9am every day, an industrious young fellow comes out to put these diggers to work, thereby rendering the toad's hiding place completely useless! However, luckily for the toad, Zach was delighted to find it under his digger and promptly replaced the digger in the hopes that it would stay there permanently and allow him to befriend it. It did stay there a while, but eventually decided to move on to pastures new (much to Zach's disappointment) and we haven't seen the little chap since.</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsDmSXCBb5PGlJ3izZn62S4Mroi_jO7AtaqfU82uX1dlacdV68lHUse5TAv8QEA9qp8J883BvzZ9qqm8Rvy7Dyikk4whEczfu3zzI8-EEIf-9ZLXFdse6UnKNArJMe6KqcbMlZ4-JkQwjoUGVLCLL-qv9MxImf0TqA87M_yx64IHCxeU1t80qqfei3Yg/s4128/20230127_105914.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4128" data-original-width="3096" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsDmSXCBb5PGlJ3izZn62S4Mroi_jO7AtaqfU82uX1dlacdV68lHUse5TAv8QEA9qp8J883BvzZ9qqm8Rvy7Dyikk4whEczfu3zzI8-EEIf-9ZLXFdse6UnKNArJMe6KqcbMlZ4-JkQwjoUGVLCLL-qv9MxImf0TqA87M_yx64IHCxeU1t80qqfei3Yg/w300-h400/20230127_105914.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The European green toad, found hiding under the blue digger</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Still, we are never far from an animal to pester, I mean pet, around here and the children's attention was soon focused on a skinny young chicken who doesn't seem to hang around much with his older, plumper counterparts. They convinced Hatice to pick him (or perhaps her, I'm not entirely sure) up for them, then spent hours carrying him around the place and feeding him scavenged wheat grains, whilst Hatice and I were working hard tidying piles of wood. At a certain point, I could see neither children not chicken and, suspecting some sort of mischief (as is usually the case when they disappear and go quiet), I went to investigate and found that they had taken the chicken into the house! He had defecated on the bathroom floor, and they had him shut in the shower enclosure with a bowl of water whilst they were cleaning this mess up. I made it quite clear that he was not welcome in the house, so they brought him back outside. A little while later, I see Zach walking around with his little yellow backpack on, and a skinny little chicken head poking out of an opening in the zip! I raced over to set the poor little chap free but, to my surprise, he staunchly resisted his rescue and did not seem very grateful at all to be freed from his carrier. Eventually, I conceded that they could carry him around in the backpack as long as he seemed content to be in there, and on the condition that they wash it thoroughly should he decide to empty his bowels in there. He seemed very happy to hang out with the children for the rest of the afternoon, both in and out of the bag.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkYddFYxED7I4zFSbQNbdgOrHIV2n_gMCRVwSNwJdAL5OFDIl1lBANErPAbhGiDbfNJlbWUCNMNxWZxjJPe4tIx4PduhxPyrYIfimgCPK5r2CJUU_zc007Da6ToK_c2cPrkX6FRsmWpgcKkb0MQhEsAk4mat91bKea4McAIJ-I_TqYinXkxIuCfeM9FQ/s4128/20230202_152650.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4128" data-original-width="3096" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkYddFYxED7I4zFSbQNbdgOrHIV2n_gMCRVwSNwJdAL5OFDIl1lBANErPAbhGiDbfNJlbWUCNMNxWZxjJPe4tIx4PduhxPyrYIfimgCPK5r2CJUU_zc007Da6ToK_c2cPrkX6FRsmWpgcKkb0MQhEsAk4mat91bKea4McAIJ-I_TqYinXkxIuCfeM9FQ/w300-h400/20230202_152650.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zach and the skinny chicken, hanging out together </td></tr></tbody></table><br />Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06821472236408880197noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1229588946568695315.post-78675325846285203992023-01-27T19:11:00.001+00:002023-01-27T19:11:43.703+00:00Cats, Goats and a Tortoise<div style="text-align: justify;">This past week has been very enjoyable here in rural Turkey. We have been looking after Fatih’s cat, Hamur, since he has gone on holiday to Istanbul to see his in-laws for the week, and Hatice and Muammer don’t let the cats sleep inside at night. I was very happy to agree to look after Hamur, as Fatih and his family have been so good to us; it is nice to be able to give something back. Hamur is actually very easy to look after, since he is out most of the day, and then will meow at the window at night when he wants to come in to sleep by the fire. However, he does have the slightly irritating habit of coming to wake us up in the morning with his meowing; usually between 6 and 7am. I now just let him into the bedroom, and he is happy to come and snuggle on the bed, which is very sweet. The first day I did that, he lay down between Beth and Zach, with Zach still being asleep and completely unaware. The room was dark, and when Zach awoke some time later and rolled over, he exclaimed “what’s this hairy thing?!”, which made Beth and I crack up with laughter!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGZj32avIGkLVgPxyU8LH7g4GEPtRqsUoYdrUFlP7RKhGW5NWrnH8lbqlshNqrR_94UgQJtviDnQh_4LVeeb5svg5D5yqdKRlVSkQRaLHY6h0yIZRqQj295CwA5qY7bIdgnN9H7_2SH-iQ1bIEQa06mYx1OLIwnXDNEFBZumHZzLi1Aa3wKVni4Dp8AA/s4128/20230121_220556.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGZj32avIGkLVgPxyU8LH7g4GEPtRqsUoYdrUFlP7RKhGW5NWrnH8lbqlshNqrR_94UgQJtviDnQh_4LVeeb5svg5D5yqdKRlVSkQRaLHY6h0yIZRqQj295CwA5qY7bIdgnN9H7_2SH-iQ1bIEQa06mYx1OLIwnXDNEFBZumHZzLi1Aa3wKVni4Dp8AA/w400-h300/20230121_220556.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My evening companion; not as interesting to talk to as Alex, but gives good cuddles!</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">What is also very sweet is that he and the other cat (which the family simply call “kedi”, meaning cat, and my children call “Super Meowsers” for some unknown reason) join us when we go for walks in the forest. They, and one of the dogs, always follow as soon as we leave the property so there is always an entourage, which is rather nice. We’ve been for a lot of walks in the forest this week, both with and without Hatice. On one of the walks without Hatice, Super Meowsers didn’t come so it was just us, the dog (which we call Granny) and Hamur. Hamur was dragging his feet a bit, so the children and I carried on, assuming he would hang around and wait for us to come back (my cat, Mishka, used to do this on walks). However, a little further on, we could hear a pitiful meow from within the forest, and we realised it was Hamur trying to find us! Poor cat! So, we turned back and called, and gradually the meow got closer to us. Eventually, he popped out of the trees and we made sure we waited for him from then onwards. I can’t imagine Fatih would be very pleased if we lost his beloved cat on a walk in the forest!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH5yi5ivKkhhyb95HGMBrhRxRQ2qV99tl8XmZnRwF49wGF92eL3g6JA5y4UmvBvJ9vjqNFAsHO8KW4rTySP4VDjKb6C_7GLceY6btO-88bpz346Kfj7tp6wF0s6zYPRKWmOSWwrHyfyPBNiiKEm0sY95nTZ45-sn_-qRdK28QaZ2DY6cnqNL-V-eucTA/s1992/20230121_112135.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1306" data-original-width="1992" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH5yi5ivKkhhyb95HGMBrhRxRQ2qV99tl8XmZnRwF49wGF92eL3g6JA5y4UmvBvJ9vjqNFAsHO8KW4rTySP4VDjKb6C_7GLceY6btO-88bpz346Kfj7tp6wF0s6zYPRKWmOSWwrHyfyPBNiiKEm0sY95nTZ45-sn_-qRdK28QaZ2DY6cnqNL-V-eucTA/w400-h263/20230121_112135.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A walk in the forest with Hamur on the left and Super Meowsers on the right </td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Every time we go for a walk, we collect tree bark and pine cones, which are useful for the wood burning stove, as both light easily and burn well. It’s quite nice, actually, to always be going with a purpose, exploring new tracks each time we go. We have seen lots of evidence of wild boar digging around, as well as a lot of empty shotgun cartridges. We hear the shooting quite a lot during the day - in a way, it is a shame, as they shoot the boar to keep the numbers down but do not eat them, due to it being forbidden by Islam! I guess the local lynx and fox population are grateful, at least. We also, completely unexpectedly, saw a tortoise crossing our path in the forest a few days ago! I had no idea that they were native to Turkey or, for that matter, that they could scuttle along so fast! I probably wouldn’t have even noticed it, as it was very well camouflaged against the forest floor, but Hatice spotted it and pointed it out to us.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimuwlJ7v1Cf_eFih0Wu2e_8cpjx58XAe_WjIbzB68NSM5TliYrGqo707hUYNSlP1J2agf8npvCuUAk9ovG-kShhs0yPYAIfh-71AO6wlxetkMUokvvGLu84ZMgJ279eaU3eX4V86dqOiZ7cwgzADp5tk1A-0sgaSaltxxrv9DqFjGQEqvdDr5Kwm8oZA/s4128/20230124_153744.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4128" data-original-width="3096" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimuwlJ7v1Cf_eFih0Wu2e_8cpjx58XAe_WjIbzB68NSM5TliYrGqo707hUYNSlP1J2agf8npvCuUAk9ovG-kShhs0yPYAIfh-71AO6wlxetkMUokvvGLu84ZMgJ279eaU3eX4V86dqOiZ7cwgzADp5tk1A-0sgaSaltxxrv9DqFjGQEqvdDr5Kwm8oZA/w300-h400/20230124_153744.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting a photo with the tortoise was not so easy; he was fast!</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Back on the farm, we have settled into a nice routine of sorts; we tend to do breakfast, washing, cleaning and home school first thing in the morning, then invariably get invited around to Hatice’s for tea (and usually some kind of snack) late morning. We then help out Hatice in the afternoon, with whatever task she happens to be doing. I’ve helped her pruning fruit trees, rose bushes, planting new trees, general clearing and cleaning around the farm, and dragging larger lengths of chopped up firewood down from the forest. The rose bush pruning was one of the scariest experiences of my life. It was carried out in a rather frantic way, whereby Hatice would tell me where to cut, I would reach up (I am quite a few inches taller than her) and cut wherever necessary with secateurs. She would then use her little pruning saw to catch and drag the cut section of entwined rose bush out from wherever it was tangled, often pulling attached branches towards us both, and then drag it towards an area of dead hedge at the end of the garden. Space was tight, neither of us had gloves, and there were spiky branches flying everywhere! I got a fair few scratches during the process, and was mighty glad when we had finished that job and moved on to pruning the pomegranate trees instead.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2vbx-dMw1f9kw0dZ-H--KAMbKcZ_AOI6BsFQi44nnoei46mDh4CjN2rN5XyDs5QA22vIF1F4GdP7Wjcw7T9JoqwP23FaJTeKSxRCn_sFE8IakoXuKHrujVeQxm9MJGX-oTi4D1XyuU0rf8LfLNQ0PRrcKWYDpPDDiKqDRKPXxgg4XMZuN7o5owaLdEA/s4128/20230121_165758.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2vbx-dMw1f9kw0dZ-H--KAMbKcZ_AOI6BsFQi44nnoei46mDh4CjN2rN5XyDs5QA22vIF1F4GdP7Wjcw7T9JoqwP23FaJTeKSxRCn_sFE8IakoXuKHrujVeQxm9MJGX-oTi4D1XyuU0rf8LfLNQ0PRrcKWYDpPDDiKqDRKPXxgg4XMZuN7o5owaLdEA/w400-h300/20230121_165758.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Having fun with a bonfire, after clearing some land</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Hatice and Muammer also took us to their orange grove one day this week, where we helped to clear the ground and collect fruit, whilst Muammer was pruning the trees. Muammer encouraged me to fill two huge bags full of fruit for myself and the children, so we came home absolutely loaded with oranges and grapefruit! I wasn’t overly excited about having quite so many grapefruit (the children went mad and picked masses of them) since they looked like the standard yellow ones we get in the UK, which are quite sour. I tend to prefer pink or red grapefruit. However, upon peeling one (which was much easier than I expected) I saw the flesh was a light pink colour and it was absolutely delicious! After the orange grove, we visited a load of polytunnels where Muammer and his brother grow bell peppers. There, we were pulling out masses of weeds from between the lines of peppers and stuffing them into a bag for the goats back at home to eat. Once we had filled two huge bags, Hatice beckoned me into a polytunnel and gestured for me to pick some peppers and hide them in my top. She didn’t seem to want Muammer to see, and was telling me to be quick, pick about ten and keep them hidden. To be honest, it was all rather stressful for me, as I felt sure Muammer would notice the bulging pile of what could only be peppers hidden in my top, and I didn’t want him to think I was stealing from his farm! However, Hatice was very insistent, so I did as I was told and tried my best to hide them until I could put them in a bag in the car. I get the feeling Muammer knows that Hatice takes a few peppers when they go there (I mean, how could he not, given her top was bulging with them and he must then eat them at home with her) but perhaps doesn’t want to know and turns a blind eye, due to the fact that they belong to both him and his brother.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYEH6RKHGviOMVa9y8vPuyWhYj8M2kJ6fP-RsOHOQbINknN4J49hCtZq60PE0ektlM3V5h9zY1ZtRZvIqHdT1CZJSN3h63ElhYAAWzaEx07mzQox0O06jf3dMmc_pg12yXbTTTI6B78uwFVs3-2LkIxV881mlWax9IoSb_4ihbQ2qzpCyTq44RTrSk2g/s4128/20230125_134606.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4128" data-original-width="3096" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYEH6RKHGviOMVa9y8vPuyWhYj8M2kJ6fP-RsOHOQbINknN4J49hCtZq60PE0ektlM3V5h9zY1ZtRZvIqHdT1CZJSN3h63ElhYAAWzaEx07mzQox0O06jf3dMmc_pg12yXbTTTI6B78uwFVs3-2LkIxV881mlWax9IoSb_4ihbQ2qzpCyTq44RTrSk2g/w300-h400/20230125_134606.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our haul of oranges, grapefruit and peppers!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">At around 5pm every day, the goats get brought back down from the mountain by Muammer (who often spends the afternoons up there with them, so they can graze further afield) and are then given some corn from buckets, before being herded into their shed for the night. This is always an amusing time of day, as the goats rarely go straight to the shed and instead run around the place making a last ditch attempt to find anything they can to eat, before going to bed. The children enjoy helping to herd them into the shed, as do I if I am not busy preparing dinner. We all have learned the "ktche" noise used to spur them on, which is quite appropriate because the word for goat in Turkish is keçi, which is pronounced "kitcheh". If I am not out helping, I often hear the children in fits of laughter as the goats misbehave and make a nuisance of themselves. Perhaps the funniest for them was when I had the front door propped open, and a cheeky goat came into the kitchen! They found that absolutely hilarious, as I'm sure you can imagine! I chased that naughty keçi out of my kitchen with a “ktche” and went back to my cooking with a smile on my face as the goat capered off in completely the opposite direction to the shed.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRPd5z1RW3ncH8vjzx4BMgtEkxwRFWIySExjjWRBlytgu6n-2HEDu9cZmrvaK0AVxmObHstXP5pviY1Cfes1EUQCZv2v4tTunESfpkNpaSRjAYBhuJbhbOLy1l0uZAIrbfverIuw6HnFhGHFzfsPRggaQkT1W1jOWk8_oMmo9CAcxZNia4yWY4pIgIXQ/s4128/20230124_173947.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRPd5z1RW3ncH8vjzx4BMgtEkxwRFWIySExjjWRBlytgu6n-2HEDu9cZmrvaK0AVxmObHstXP5pviY1Cfes1EUQCZv2v4tTunESfpkNpaSRjAYBhuJbhbOLy1l0uZAIrbfverIuw6HnFhGHFzfsPRggaQkT1W1jOWk8_oMmo9CAcxZNia4yWY4pIgIXQ/w400-h300/20230124_173947.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A beautiful sunset, enjoyed with Hatice from the hill just above our house, <br />whilst picking wild oregano for dinner<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06821472236408880197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1229588946568695315.post-80881063065411347272023-01-20T20:21:00.228+00:002023-01-25T18:18:03.214+00:00Turkish Delights<p style="text-align: justify;">So, Alex is has officially been shipped off to his Naval training at the Britannia Royal Naval College (BRNC) in Dartmouth, and the children and I have made it to Turkey. It was rather touch and go actually getting here, since we almost weren't allowed to fly out of Gatwick! My current UK passport is valid from 7th Jan 2013 - 7th Oct 2023, which meant that it was just over ten years old on the date of our flight (12th January). Apparently a change has come in over the past few months, which means that UK passports must be less than ten years old in order to be valid for international travel. I was gobsmacked when the lady at the bag drop said my passport wasn't valid for travel, wondering where on earth I was going to go at 5 o'clock in the morning, if we weren't allowed to fly! I pleaded with her and she checked with her manager, who also said no. So, I pleaded with him too and gave a sob story about my husband being in the Navy, telling him we were going away for a month and had nowhere else to go. This manager consulted his superior, and I think they got the wrong end of the stick thinking we were off to see Alex on duty somewhere, so they finally agreed to let me fly! I didn't bother correcting his mistake, but thanked him profusely and rushed off to the bag drop as quickly as I could! The thing I find ridiculous about this new rule is that easyJet doesn't check the passport start date, given this is now so important, but perhaps there are plans to put these checks in place. I do hope so.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-deUey_GPi_cBDYvsLe2rt9LZSdqMxVwCElTkWHaJkFhxU3F83UrUIiCUPZ2dSY3QTgTrhp-CpH5ieMoNSGcd1mNaMgmvyRsZhPje_LH6msnlIyKHAAh6RdudRn2v2Zmh9RYURcGq0HmTQZcopaMMxn1hsYkACl2NfHCzLN47A5PGDYWCi3qHqrxJgA/s4128/20230119_152023.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4128" data-original-width="3096" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-deUey_GPi_cBDYvsLe2rt9LZSdqMxVwCElTkWHaJkFhxU3F83UrUIiCUPZ2dSY3QTgTrhp-CpH5ieMoNSGcd1mNaMgmvyRsZhPje_LH6msnlIyKHAAh6RdudRn2v2Zmh9RYURcGq0HmTQZcopaMMxn1hsYkACl2NfHCzLN47A5PGDYWCi3qHqrxJgA/w300-h400/20230119_152023.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our home for the month, complete with friendly cats and dogs</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Anyhow, we made it here eventually and are nearing the end of our first full week. We are staying in an Airbnb on an organic smallholding near Antalya, in a small village. We have acres of forest on our doorstep, and are right on the edge of the Taurus Mountains. The location is superb; so remote and peaceful, and the locals are incredibly welcoming and friendly. They keep goats and chickens, and have numerous very friendly dogs and cats wandering around, which the children love. We have settled in so well and I feel it is somewhere I could easily live but, goodness, we don’t need any more plots of land so I will ignore that feeling for now! The Airbnb is managed by a lovely guy called Fatih and the farm belongs his parents, Hatice and Muammer, who live in another house just across the driveway from ours. We have no car and the closest shop is just over a kilometre's walk from here, but it seems to contain mainly snacks such as chocolate and crisps. It did have a few essential items, such as milk, eggs and flour, but it certainly can't provide much in the way of nutritional fare. Hatice and Muammer produce their own honey, olive oil, olives, eggs, goats cheese, bread and much more, so we have bought some supplies from them (at very reasonable prices) and they have been incredibly kind in giving us lots of other delicious foods to try, refusing to accept payment. They have also offered to buy produce for us whenever they go to the shops, so we have plenty of supplies here in the cupboards.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3SHqt0ST1pGmjBD9Wd9yPFWDluYKqaTRkPD228nfIeyTHkmOf-40Sfm8E5ouwaxbjtG7-T2YtHS0CAYBYKy7DtebaYcV3oA8Ycfebei9zPvk-yjDYstbQu8n7SBE9kwOHu3xe1vuBtZK4A6rGE9UI9rFPPiu_HxO296FRU-oB-PCAGf_lXCxZg4DtDw/s4128/20230114_135035.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3SHqt0ST1pGmjBD9Wd9yPFWDluYKqaTRkPD228nfIeyTHkmOf-40Sfm8E5ouwaxbjtG7-T2YtHS0CAYBYKy7DtebaYcV3oA8Ycfebei9zPvk-yjDYstbQu8n7SBE9kwOHu3xe1vuBtZK4A6rGE9UI9rFPPiu_HxO296FRU-oB-PCAGf_lXCxZg4DtDw/w400-h300/20230114_135035.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A walk to the shop, showing the edge of the mountains; this photo doesn't do it justice</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We spent a few days this week helping Hatice to gather olives; the last of the season. I think that most were collected using sheets spread around the base of the trees over the past few months (these will have been the best quality olives) and the ones we are collecting now are the last to fall from the tree, which will be used for oil. It is quite time-consuming work, since we are collecting them by hand from the floor, and they are often hidden in clumps of vegetation or mud. At first, I think I was being too picky about the quality - I have now learned that anything goes, regardless of how muddy, squashed or shrivelled they are! It has been a nice way to while away the hours, with the children helping at times, but mainly playing games around us whilst we gather. Away from the house, without an internet connection, Hatice and I have no way to communicate other than basic Turkish and sign language, but we get along just fine! My Turkish is improving slowly, such that I can now comment on the sun being hot, or the olive supply of a given tree being plentiful!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSwpD9x2sXxO66XkO4duLZwn3UnB2VZoeW0xmirC3F0dWRymGrfus8Nrm11jp1iL3342RlUQ6Lru8x-IxhDfgsedxWOHVBnmPaFQ1KYNVcdgPerWAYJeMTFA9LnsHcKG284pMq9jD6zXiWJvovE5eE_vdLM2jPd8BYMRJpvi_lJsGRCg7kYrlgaryxcg/s4128/20230119_134559.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4128" data-original-width="3096" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSwpD9x2sXxO66XkO4duLZwn3UnB2VZoeW0xmirC3F0dWRymGrfus8Nrm11jp1iL3342RlUQ6Lru8x-IxhDfgsedxWOHVBnmPaFQ1KYNVcdgPerWAYJeMTFA9LnsHcKG284pMq9jD6zXiWJvovE5eE_vdLM2jPd8BYMRJpvi_lJsGRCg7kYrlgaryxcg/w300-h400/20230119_134559.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Off on a walk to gather olives with Hatice Teyze (Auntie Hatice)</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div>After gathering olives, Hatice has been inviting us in for tea and, often, some food as well. In fact, I don’t think a day goes by (whether we have collected olives or not) when I do not get invited over there for a cup of tea, or given something delicious to eat. We are really being spoiled! When she cooks meals for us, Hatice has been getting me to help out, so I have been learning some basics about Turkish cooking. Hatice says that every meal in Turkey starts with onions and tomatoes… and, from what I can see, it must also contain a LOT of olive oil! The meals always contain lots of fresh, home-produced ingredients, such as fresh herbs, lemon juice from the trees, a sour pomegranate sauce made from their own produce, and so much more. One day we made gözleme (Turkish pancakes) which were filled with leeks, spinach and home-produced goats cheese - they tasted so good!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwZuKY--ZT8lUvSUr-o_wEVqWDglcA3MsfjDUgTNWlvAozrUl2mo2qePub2ZsOJrW1hEFkmnynaqFx_AHttLEI93G47RR-g4oGgMA6to4ahjjXQrFGfqvWw9Q44ApJ78pFVA9BCznvXs84t-AqdMqkjzKF-ROIO1fDjtqai5NNh8aUUOJCuolFCHY1ww/s4128/20230123_154800.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4128" data-original-width="3096" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwZuKY--ZT8lUvSUr-o_wEVqWDglcA3MsfjDUgTNWlvAozrUl2mo2qePub2ZsOJrW1hEFkmnynaqFx_AHttLEI93G47RR-g4oGgMA6to4ahjjXQrFGfqvWw9Q44ApJ78pFVA9BCznvXs84t-AqdMqkjzKF-ROIO1fDjtqai5NNh8aUUOJCuolFCHY1ww/w300-h400/20230123_154800.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The children, enjoying freshly cooked gözlem<span style="text-align: justify;">e</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Last Sunday, the whole family came over to help out on the farm here (children and grandchildren), and that was really nice. Fatih invited me over to drink tea and watch them making huge flatbreads, which go very dry and last for up to six months. They are cooked over an open fire on a very large mushroom-shaped piece of metal, then stacked in a large pile on a tray. They look like humongous poppadoms! The loaded tray is now in Hatice’s kitchen, on top of the fridge, and when they want to use one they simply splash it with water and leave it to rehydrate for 5-10 minutes, then cook with it. These are used to make the gözleme, amongst other things. As well as making the breads, the two male goats were sheared by hand, wood was collected and chopped ready for use in the wood burning stoves and there was a bonfire. There were three boys here around the same age as Beth, so they took her and Zach off exploring up the hill, to the edge of the forest. They all spent much of the afternoon with the toy diggers outside, excavating and moving piles of sawdust and charcoal. They made an awful mess with it all, but nobody seemed to mind and, in fact, some rain overnight soon cleared the worst of it away!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaBwKdZ3wesvEMPjhV1E5MGvznKP_OTbyy4nl1A3KrLJk8c1wp_mJisPkOvT0rBKE_PRxwjbstK4kkDeWrxComQK0KxLWPbYf-O4MTt5qpB-iihioaWy6qNTVS_kB3WonWEsbhBSA7s5R_Y0tV3iLyOutTHi6b68yADs0tOa0QjB7lMmtFZXI5iIpO5Q/s4128/20230115_153142.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaBwKdZ3wesvEMPjhV1E5MGvznKP_OTbyy4nl1A3KrLJk8c1wp_mJisPkOvT0rBKE_PRxwjbstK4kkDeWrxComQK0KxLWPbYf-O4MTt5qpB-iihioaWy6qNTVS_kB3WonWEsbhBSA7s5R_Y0tV3iLyOutTHi6b68yADs0tOa0QjB7lMmtFZXI5iIpO5Q/w400-h300/20230115_153142.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Plenty of natural materials around to dig, such as sawdust, mud and charcoal!</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This was also the day that a wood-burning stove was installed for us, and what a huge difference it has made to our lives here! The house has air conditioning units, which can heat as well as cool, but I was concerned about the cost of using them (for Fatih and his parents) so, when they offered the wood-burning stove, I jumped at the opportunity. We don’t need to light it until the evening, since the days are around 16-18°C and the house retains a lot of the heat overnight such that the mornings are not too chilly. I tend to light it around 4.30pm, and within a matter of minutes it is roaring and ready to cook on/in! I especially love the oven, which I have used to cook stuffed peppers and jacket potatoes, so far. Having got so used to avoiding ovens over recent years (mainly due to their energy consumption), it seems unbelievable to be able to cook anything I like in the oven, completely for free! I can see that if you live as they do here, on the edge of a forest with effectively a limitless supply of deadwood to burn, then you can really heat your home and cook your meals without worrying at all about fluctuating energy prices. It is a shame that stoves like this aren’t more commonplace in western Europe. Wood-burning stoves these days will rarely have a place for heating a pan on top, and almost never contain an oven.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikFwx7o8HBJprI7bSO0K5owsHZMuIJvsyBQvuwwRhOa_8gXTcL4MbSlCqyWY7HPbFwT7Y3uwe2mZWvWUcw6-YAxqhLp8JV4bG6fTItqBI1TDBJVm3ck991cpeJq-Im3RdmU_70SI-xyzCtIoWLywwRDDPIwmj9vxk0HAmwBrnWYyqhrcbcQIX9N1-vng/s4128/20230115_182501.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikFwx7o8HBJprI7bSO0K5owsHZMuIJvsyBQvuwwRhOa_8gXTcL4MbSlCqyWY7HPbFwT7Y3uwe2mZWvWUcw6-YAxqhLp8JV4bG6fTItqBI1TDBJVm3ck991cpeJq-Im3RdmU_70SI-xyzCtIoWLywwRDDPIwmj9vxk0HAmwBrnWYyqhrcbcQIX9N1-vng/w400-h300/20230115_182501.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cooking dinner and making tea on the top of the stove, whilst roasting peppers in the oven</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Today, Hatice and Muammer took us to the market in the nearby town of Serik. It was the best fresh produce market I have been to, outside of Thailand. Perhaps it was even better than Thailand, in terms of the amount of produce on offer. As is the case in Thailand, it seems that most local people buy their fresh produce (that which they do not grow themselves) at these incredibly cheap, well-stocked markets which run multiple times per week. Our fridge and cupboards are now bursting at the seams, full with onions, tomatoes, potatoes, apples, bananas, and much more, and it cost me very little indeed. It was all rather hectic, since Muammer was doing most of the talking for me, as well as quality control - I don’t think he thought much of my produce selection! He was being very careful to select the best quality items, whereas I was just rushing to fill my bags whilst making sure the children didn’t disappear out of sight! So, it is hard for me to remember exact prices, but pretty much everything was 5-15 turkish lira (20-60 pence) per kilo, and I was buying 2kg of most things. We splashed out on a kilo of kumquats, which I think cost me 20 lira… and I think the children have eaten about half of that kilo already!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkqKN3zX2GvRbYQ3673uB_DMWnnKsd0WIhNMSg2NsSEBr_g1gN00Irj9l2s3fBp0S7u-rgUZNSFfvZWifMaX4DTdIto8kCbMbfAVoi9VR-8mqhnIb80sAEy6JiEd1vDTDjokjV0ytvZ33W5wn4EM5VmnWcQjyvZYKwKDgPcP1j7e8mmrgKNlxP5aONmA/s4128/20230120_132120.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkqKN3zX2GvRbYQ3673uB_DMWnnKsd0WIhNMSg2NsSEBr_g1gN00Irj9l2s3fBp0S7u-rgUZNSFfvZWifMaX4DTdIto8kCbMbfAVoi9VR-8mqhnIb80sAEy6JiEd1vDTDjokjV0ytvZ33W5wn4EM5VmnWcQjyvZYKwKDgPcP1j7e8mmrgKNlxP5aONmA/w400-h300/20230120_132120.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We managed to squeeze in a playground visit after the market</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06821472236408880197noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1229588946568695315.post-72961464084499100322023-01-08T20:17:00.001+00:002023-01-24T21:12:00.125+00:00Four Years in a Nutshell<p style="text-align: justify;">Procrastination and perfectionism. These two words are the reason for this post. So many times over the past few years I have considered writing a blog post, but it always feels like such a large task, which gets larger as the months pass by. And so procrastination takes hold. Suddenly, chores like year-end accounts and endless unwritten emails take priority, and before you know it the "Write blog post" task is resigned to the bottom of the to-do list, where it lies unseen for months and then years, having disappeared out of sight due to the length of said mountainous to-do list. Another year passes and resolutions for the new one get made. The "Write blog post" task gets elevated momentarily, sitting so close to the top of the list that one can almost hear the cogs working inside my brain as I formulate the outline of the post but, then, perfectionism sets in. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">More than a year has passed since the previous post. So much has happened; so many tales untold, so many posts unwritten. How should I proceed? A sensible approach would be to write a blog post detailing the most recent noteworthy events, especially given that my memory is not the best. But... I cannot bring myself to do this, somehow. I cannot bear the thought of there being vast holes in this journaling timeline, without them being properly accounted for. So, I begin writing a post summing up the past year, which I must complete before writing about the most recent events. It isn't easy, my heart isn't in it, and I'm right back to the start - procrastination. Damn.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Fast forward to today, and I realise that over four whole years have passed me by! Is it my age, or the fact that we now have two young children which has caused this time to rush past at a speed I've never known before? Perhaps a combination of the two. I find myself here again, wondering now whether to write about recent events, or to try to fill in the gaps from then until now. Only now, I have the most mammoth-sized gap to fill, I know that it is an impossible task. Yet perfectionism will simply not allow me to continue without that gap being filled. So, here goes; four years in a nutshell.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><h1 style="text-align: justify;">2019</h1><div><a aria-label="Photo - Landscape - Oct 1, 2018, 9:50:36 PM" class="p137Zd" href="https://photos.google.com/search/%202018/photo/AF1QipM1Lh4bkNjqcwwyBqXmeUz1X4pUBpTAPLHxFoRK" jsaction="click:eQuaEb;focus:AHmuwe; blur:O22p3e;" tabindex="0"><div class="RY3tic" data-latest-bg="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/ZcmclU1567FlzpQttHuLoQJYnbA0N0BXfD8XG0o_lr0U6dj3vBuZKs2qMHFMjlP2dOzncPdeBweFet_Oippbheo63n98fXEnj3ht2s1WqUaiv9Rj79GjMBvH3txslLW2IfPRo34kFkK65c2XsYeRpgBzry1iJ50NSqmbH6nEWV_GdLq9OsYxEmhe72l-zJXEOxtcFhaBc3WE_oMaXoDJ284lybNaTbGMPlWuEzpyC_LglagPKZpOUypxo3C37Jz9W0gWdmfe-LoUvk-ib-_M0Je9xP0Q9wr-lSCzSa2KTOncbuTH8AcRtwuYmnx_i2Mi1t8ZRiLcEDOisgG9a-iByu3UxwLZkKPEvLkhxKH8J0rjrAu2hAed88ie-9FwSUI4PBWPXxeVs6HcGYjvK2mcs2-6iklT0jp__sI4TJPWBljFg0EWPvt1Ne_PKD-lEufrWm8kx9JyDuCMQgK_2B_siQnML4Uv5m2zhZXXGXk4rFLYXVA9-7xnrc8dt8RdRJBqQEnJGXhpupS71Zyo3Sz8fW_gVDPS7VQaDCytLaR4e5r-lbKOrAXF6F_5dQgdWhqDJduI-M5gOkt8zkX1VL65xolCU4en6Z7uK6Mrj_VcaOXGIrlpqGRFs-RmPyXbw-0TzBgCYqmYhttcxELY-hBkgkxp2p5VAsf5LxsiRAB7xg54_YfQ68QHB1AXRtth1NH4Fx5w4BGWvuunuDCjdW_EiMFjnlVZ7_1NKijmpUXXvZuNaH7W5QpzIMhwIo-0i99JZmttFlU1S_j212qCu7RgAYsq3QC5Zj4dpjVXuWEPwQOo5NXovWVRPn5dNUDR6EYcZvuVt7ryG9oUkILK55QKOAlJphI-ZBXRpzaIyZP-izR3K-6MHXi_vK0e2nDZVqXtw18M7D5qe0dn4s9P1SXz66bHw7zFaUQpOBfhTqgOhU_sofzkGNA7WEeEk0WUhBTTy93RsyvpIl6BN-QTdGupECFbDmNqD-MkyHGoEkrI4XaBh_Eyl4QLizHR=w323-h181-no?authuser=0" style="background-image: url("https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/ZcmclU1567FlzpQttHuLoQJYnbA0N0BXfD8XG0o_lr0U6dj3vBuZKs2qMHFMjlP2dOzncPdeBweFet_Oippbheo63n98fXEnj3ht2s1WqUaiv9Rj79GjMBvH3txslLW2IfPRo34kFkK65c2XsYeRpgBzry1iJ50NSqmbH6nEWV_GdLq9OsYxEmhe72l-zJXEOxtcFhaBc3WE_oMaXoDJ284lybNaTbGMPlWuEzpyC_LglagPKZpOUypxo3C37Jz9W0gWdmfe-LoUvk-ib-_M0Je9xP0Q9wr-lSCzSa2KTOncbuTH8AcRtwuYmnx_i2Mi1t8ZRiLcEDOisgG9a-iByu3UxwLZkKPEvLkhxKH8J0rjrAu2hAed88ie-9FwSUI4PBWPXxeVs6HcGYjvK2mcs2-6iklT0jp__sI4TJPWBljFg0EWPvt1Ne_PKD-lEufrWm8kx9JyDuCMQgK_2B_siQnML4Uv5m2zhZXXGXk4rFLYXVA9-7xnrc8dt8RdRJBqQEnJGXhpupS71Zyo3Sz8fW_gVDPS7VQaDCytLaR4e5r-lbKOrAXF6F_5dQgdWhqDJduI-M5gOkt8zkX1VL65xolCU4en6Z7uK6Mrj_VcaOXGIrlpqGRFs-RmPyXbw-0TzBgCYqmYhttcxELY-hBkgkxp2p5VAsf5LxsiRAB7xg54_YfQ68QHB1AXRtth1NH4Fx5w4BGWvuunuDCjdW_EiMFjnlVZ7_1NKijmpUXXvZuNaH7W5QpzIMhwIo-0i99JZmttFlU1S_j212qCu7RgAYsq3QC5Zj4dpjVXuWEPwQOo5NXovWVRPn5dNUDR6EYcZvuVt7ryG9oUkILK55QKOAlJphI-ZBXRpzaIyZP-izR3K-6MHXi_vK0e2nDZVqXtw18M7D5qe0dn4s9P1SXz66bHw7zFaUQpOBfhTqgOhU_sofzkGNA7WEeEk0WUhBTTy93RsyvpIl6BN-QTdGupECFbDmNqD-MkyHGoEkrI4XaBh_Eyl4QLizHR=w323-h181-no?authuser=0"); color: black; opacity: 1;"><div aria-hidden="true" class="eGiHwc"></div><div aria-hidden="true" class="KYCEmd"></div></div></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ekui9lkbum5OCVCCpvWWqExARFrRMLyY-5L0P9Ph0WWgVRtct0oqqvu0qyC9rEyj6T8JoAynMSUi5Z9PIwjP_4LWlPdqjVrHkyUTP91b-cAmHJZvifggF6MzY_FRuDSXrgYVl-hZ8uxuv_9Gaa05-MsFyz_9gUhufLyDYr95MA_jL0rkuzEYIkaFaw/s1599/zach_birthday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="1599" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ekui9lkbum5OCVCCpvWWqExARFrRMLyY-5L0P9Ph0WWgVRtct0oqqvu0qyC9rEyj6T8JoAynMSUi5Z9PIwjP_4LWlPdqjVrHkyUTP91b-cAmHJZvifggF6MzY_FRuDSXrgYVl-hZ8uxuv_9Gaa05-MsFyz_9gUhufLyDYr95MA_jL0rkuzEYIkaFaw/w400-h225/zach_birthday.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zach, just moments after popping out in this converted barn in Somerset</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Our son, Zach, was born in a barn in Somerset in September 2018, whilst Hope was on the hard in Poole. Unwilling to launch her and set sail until the spring, we escaped to Thailand for three months at the start of 2019, where we thoroughly enjoyed living as locals near Krabi on an eco-farm. Zach started weaning in Thailand, and has maintained a love of spicy foods ever since. Whilst away from Hope, we spent as much time as possible in and on the water, and made memories to last a lifetime*. We finished the trip by charting a sailing yacht with friends, which we sailed from Phuket around Phang Nga Bay, and this made us excited about our return to Hope.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">*Mainly possible due to outsourcing my memories to Google Photos.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8cEy4U_S4Xr2ZCdrMEOKx9-zPsPc74hhbJ5qRffhCkjt5UF4cPVtEA38pB3f4KtrglnYRwkiiDXkD3HB43a5ECZYQmbFaKfKw6Obf9_YoiJ8LNkjMteQDLI5y68MfQrPnolsWjYGqidc-EN5ASVV9E2RfuN15SOIZ0Oq4wjU1nzBdSBppMZb7sxizsw/s4128/samlor_market.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2322" data-original-width="4128" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8cEy4U_S4Xr2ZCdrMEOKx9-zPsPc74hhbJ5qRffhCkjt5UF4cPVtEA38pB3f4KtrglnYRwkiiDXkD3HB43a5ECZYQmbFaKfKw6Obf9_YoiJ8LNkjMteQDLI5y68MfQrPnolsWjYGqidc-EN5ASVV9E2RfuN15SOIZ0Oq4wjU1nzBdSBppMZb7sxizsw/w400-h225/samlor_market.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of our favourite activities in Thailand - a trip to the market on the samlor motorbike!</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: justify;">We returned to the UK in April and launched Hope in May, whereby we sailed her at a leisurely pace down to Portugal via the Channel Islands, France and Spain. It was certainly a challenge, with both children being so young, but we had an amazing time and were blessed with far better weather than when we sailed Firebird down the same coast too late in the season of 2013. We discovered many things about Hope that we wanted/needed to change as we went along, and compiled a rather large "To do in Portugal" list containing details of these planned tasks. We arrived in Portugal towards the end of September, whereupon we put her into the boatyard in Portimão on the Algarve.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQK1uQfe0NKlx8aZaoRbdsW36RsnftIY8xVvd3W_Mpv-iCbdTKL2LvSQQLlhUfttXZtFVGTPr7wXsvdWLCgrX0ukNTWO4T9tEzyEGRsA9FJ8-xjvsidiZZZESelqI7okm7pXSnwAyzslWW0sExagf15gfI8r7bPjNgUpG1YawhU5eOacCn_1_gSEb5xA/s4128/anchor_picture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2322" data-original-width="4128" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQK1uQfe0NKlx8aZaoRbdsW36RsnftIY8xVvd3W_Mpv-iCbdTKL2LvSQQLlhUfttXZtFVGTPr7wXsvdWLCgrX0ukNTWO4T9tEzyEGRsA9FJ8-xjvsidiZZZESelqI7okm7pXSnwAyzslWW0sExagf15gfI8r7bPjNgUpG1YawhU5eOacCn_1_gSEb5xA/w400-h225/anchor_picture.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex doing the laundry aboard Hope, whilst anchored up in France</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">We started working through the list of boat tasks, whilst also spending plenty of time with my family (who live in Portugal). At this point, we knew that we would not be ready for any longer passages (such as an Atlantic crossing) in time for the coming winter, so we took our time and planned another trip away for early 2020. Having had such a fantastic time in Thailand, we decided to spend another three months abroad, but this time decided upon a properly cold destination so that the children could experience a decent amount of snow. I found us a three month house-sit in Ohio, and we prepared ourselves for this trip, kitting ourselves out with decent cold weather clothing ready for the coming months.</p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-bMMIp_TBjHsI55fqndF8cagK0W_IR1iF93znO5L23wSAKkBDJ8FTWhRkUnQn6QUMmCJks0UIQikj2eHWlo1FEWSWLKFiBlkTw2vFzua9iac_nqM48pjVWSad_7DRX9xzITiuEeLwsRgLp_FuTPI8drn4gAJ5PYkp3r7r9P8XsmAu73HJ0WXuHzWEVw/s1462/glory.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="822" data-original-width="1462" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-bMMIp_TBjHsI55fqndF8cagK0W_IR1iF93znO5L23wSAKkBDJ8FTWhRkUnQn6QUMmCJks0UIQikj2eHWlo1FEWSWLKFiBlkTw2vFzua9iac_nqM48pjVWSad_7DRX9xzITiuEeLwsRgLp_FuTPI8drn4gAJ5PYkp3r7r9P8XsmAu73HJ0WXuHzWEVw/w400-h225/glory.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rowing ashore in Portugal, in our tender, Glory. Hope can be seen in the background.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><h1 style="text-align: justify;">2020</h1><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDzleFeKb59EvYhE9euNYLvbm7COvEPE54pMVSPiquQEx0F-bqCQRRBSfr-6YOHnbG5tVedJC1Jerln1eiaAZaYMcodPUS26t4YXoiFYcEJqeZWb0Lp1geSgDx87-vrU-Ff8AbF5G-VrBuyd_cSNkyEDaOBA83j6r970x4hTKbNAR4It7VfcbnGSdbFg/s4128/snowmen_ohio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2322" data-original-width="4128" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDzleFeKb59EvYhE9euNYLvbm7COvEPE54pMVSPiquQEx0F-bqCQRRBSfr-6YOHnbG5tVedJC1Jerln1eiaAZaYMcodPUS26t4YXoiFYcEJqeZWb0Lp1geSgDx87-vrU-Ff8AbF5G-VrBuyd_cSNkyEDaOBA83j6r970x4hTKbNAR4It7VfcbnGSdbFg/w400-h225/snowmen_ohio.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We had fun building snowmen in the yard, at our house-sit in Ohio<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: justify;">January 2nd saw us flying from France (where we had seen in the New Year with friends) to Cleveland, Ohio, and we soon settled into a fantastic house-sit there, looking after two lovely Labradors on the shores of Lake Erie. Sadly, it was a mild winter by Ohio standards, but we still had a fantastic time and managed to enjoy some winter sports with the children. Unfortunately, towards the end of this trip, Covid-19 made an appearance on the world's media stage, and we had to return to the UK earlier than planned, for fear of getting stranded in the USA. We found ourselves in the UK amid a lockdown, essentially homeless and unable to travel, but thankfully some forward planning meant that we were able to book an Airbnb in Shropshire for a month (before Airbnb stopped taking bookings) and a hire car to take us there.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK9aV2nX5XXKBErQzA4UcsmS42WqN7DeuFcdiWTq0-6Ja7WcBjSadSZWfjkGiuDAgdttWqywq05bLHwMvE9KpFaB8SY34nR55OO73R8wB54UnB2HAqqbQAQNcKr4ciYl3OQ7zt3d9DZbmPzGmCGG-tEUUsj8_PWYyDpbkBXPvOIz5LON2dpb6dzJnxsg/s4128/shropshire_walk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2322" data-original-width="4128" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK9aV2nX5XXKBErQzA4UcsmS42WqN7DeuFcdiWTq0-6Ja7WcBjSadSZWfjkGiuDAgdttWqywq05bLHwMvE9KpFaB8SY34nR55OO73R8wB54UnB2HAqqbQAQNcKr4ciYl3OQ7zt3d9DZbmPzGmCGG-tEUUsj8_PWYyDpbkBXPvOIz5LON2dpb6dzJnxsg/w400-h225/shropshire_walk.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying the view from the top of Caer Caradoc in Shropshire</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">After much negotiation with the Portuguese Consulate and Embassy, we finally got approval to fly back to Portugal in order to return to Hope, being that she is our home. We did this, completed the two week quarantine and then continued where we had left off at the end of 2019; working our way through the boat jobs. As is always the case, jobs took much longer than we anticipated, but we didn't really mind at all since the whole world was closed for international travel and sailing was pretty much impossible, due to ports around the world being closed. This situation continued to be the case, and so we made the most of the opportunity by steadily working our way through more and more of our maintenance/improvement tasks aboard Hope. </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheRz7r1AS7nmXA0KZeXQ5DO6rhfdTEPlkPthfX3_EwYe41qC4vniDSOirXhVYfC7awnmCtckTYx1Pml3g8iLIFXpk-D4sZTDlnHITjmpaca2yjuan7cx7UHkkYG_I-GnAQ4GWVwyEqT_mfDwe2SI7gfdQ0QSp29A4F7jzERopL0ORxnOE0T-TsRrcKww/s1096/boatyard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="822" data-original-width="1096" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheRz7r1AS7nmXA0KZeXQ5DO6rhfdTEPlkPthfX3_EwYe41qC4vniDSOirXhVYfC7awnmCtckTYx1Pml3g8iLIFXpk-D4sZTDlnHITjmpaca2yjuan7cx7UHkkYG_I-GnAQ4GWVwyEqT_mfDwe2SI7gfdQ0QSp29A4F7jzERopL0ORxnOE0T-TsRrcKww/w400-h300/boatyard.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beth and Zach, getting involved in the boat maintenance tasks in the yard</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">As winter approached, we realised that we did not want to spend it in the boatyard with the children, so we began to look for alternative accommodation. In late October, we moved to an apartment on an organic farm called Quinta da Figueirinha near Silves, about 20 minutes drive from both my parents' house and the boatyard. We moved there just in time, as lockdowns were soon brought back in due to the winter illness period taking hold and Covid-19 case numbers increasing. Being locked down on a 36 hectare farm was certainly a lot easier than being locked down on Hope in the boatyard would have been, and we felt very fortunate to have found ourselves in this situation. We were unable to escape the Portuguese winter, but a log burner kept us toasty, we enjoyed walks to gather fresh oranges and we were part of a community of other, like-minded families during this uncertain period. Work continued on Hope as and when possible, and we were able to host Alex's family for Christmas at the quinta due to them making it out of the UK just hours before travel restrictions were imposed there!</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0MDtHowvOR6Ddtepl06Lthp8xz-wLEXqonvEXOx6kbkWVTPbUaP7egNVIB8EUFpHWr4xvNKNUtgbaR1nEEAiycHbDSYJ1NC5dySrxgHJ0xVlVEStEwqE_Z9VYUtG9j9lPo0fuPn0wQnAtIja0oRHaBaAT5NYdBj4N13JdGq3hxyY4lHCgjafjsRc_ow/s2560/christmas_quinta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="2560" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0MDtHowvOR6Ddtepl06Lthp8xz-wLEXqonvEXOx6kbkWVTPbUaP7egNVIB8EUFpHWr4xvNKNUtgbaR1nEEAiycHbDSYJ1NC5dySrxgHJ0xVlVEStEwqE_Z9VYUtG9j9lPo0fuPn0wQnAtIja0oRHaBaAT5NYdBj4N13JdGq3hxyY4lHCgjafjsRc_ow/w400-h225/christmas_quinta.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A post-Christmas get-together with Mitchells and Shepherds, in our quinta apartment</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><h1 style="text-align: justify;">2021</h1><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPD8S5okPBahiyp2k-e5CZ3jHiU4_0fzoUZRJUxMIozIeSqQ0oStY27WN5CDjlJlitzjp6LjHynNPZMrCYBmjOD-M8iSPqgr6vQsMtdTQu5Ve5QXVNsGE7fXRnm0EKEMeQOzk35HPgnCDgcJd9aElwO7JyCBODa7wQL5yb4DGS575g8NaA7KeREqP-Fw/s1461/quinta_garden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="822" data-original-width="1461" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPD8S5okPBahiyp2k-e5CZ3jHiU4_0fzoUZRJUxMIozIeSqQ0oStY27WN5CDjlJlitzjp6LjHynNPZMrCYBmjOD-M8iSPqgr6vQsMtdTQu5Ve5QXVNsGE7fXRnm0EKEMeQOzk35HPgnCDgcJd9aElwO7JyCBODa7wQL5yb4DGS575g8NaA7KeREqP-Fw/w400-h225/quinta_garden.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying a spot of the good life at the quinta, with the community garden</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: justify;">With money running short and no end to the sailing embargoes in sight, I decided to return to work. I started a remote contract for a fashion company called Lyst, and shared a co-working space at the quinta with another person who was working there remotely at that time. I worked standard office hours Monday to Friday, then would take over the childcare whilst Alex cycled to the boatyard and worked on Hope over the weekend. During this period, he rebuilt our dinghy, so the flimsy foldable Seahopper formerly known as Glory became the sturdy nesting dinghy, now known as Edwina. A lot of Alex's blood sweat and tears went into her construction (along with a few marathon fibreglassing session all-nighters) but, once complete, we took her sailing up the Arade river multiple times and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves doing so. It felt good to be sailing again, even if only in a dinghy! We continued to enjoy life on the quinta, getting involved in a community garden and weekly poker evenings, which was great fun. With some of the extra money I was earning, we decided to pay for the yard to build a wheelhouse extension for Hope and order some new standing rigging, a cockpit cover and some new sails. However, the rigger had some bad news for us; our main mast had some damage and was irreparable, meaning we would have to fork out for a replacement. Not what we wanted to hear, as this would mean delaying our relaunch of Hope whilst waiting for this to be ordered and installed. </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPBG_K617G-JspZPEiILyJT2T_Gvy5JfSNwF-4IYwjT8Ntm1rwyJ5sIdrNeGq4n_-HexSlouF7GHgO-swUYoXYB7p9e1oWvt8uCU2wLq6nLFMxfuhPyzt9RNlp2_0MAJ7QotGMXGA6QG0EfBBaSod7TT313z7SJEOLPHA6l31kxjThu1OKP6mMRsLThA/s960/edwina_dinghy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPBG_K617G-JspZPEiILyJT2T_Gvy5JfSNwF-4IYwjT8Ntm1rwyJ5sIdrNeGq4n_-HexSlouF7GHgO-swUYoXYB7p9e1oWvt8uCU2wLq6nLFMxfuhPyzt9RNlp2_0MAJ7QotGMXGA6QG0EfBBaSod7TT313z7SJEOLPHA6l31kxjThu1OKP6mMRsLThA/w400-h320/edwina_dinghy.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our first outing on the new and improved tender, Edwina</td></tr></tbody></table></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">At the end of June, we flew back to the UK in preparation for Alex's sister Lucy's wedding. This was to be held in August, but we didn't want to risk getting stuck in Portugal due to any travel restrictions, so returned early and made the most of the summer freedom in the UK with various camping trips, a nice house sit in Shropshire and long overdue visits to family and friends. It was on the way back from one of these visits that an important conversation took place between Alex and myself; one which set in motion a plan that had the potential to change our current lifestyle in a fairly drastic way. To cut a long story short (as this is the whole point of "in a nutshell"), Alex shared with me his regret at never joining the air force after university, as he felt he would have preferred military life to a career in IT. On hearing this, I suggested that he should apply to join the forces immediately before it was too late. I feel very lucky to not have any regrets in life (or, rather, I may regret some things I <i>have</i> done, but I don't have anything that I wished I <i>had</i> done and never did) and I didn't like the thought of Alex having this huge regret that he would soon never be able to rectify. Much research, thought and discussion later, he decided to apply to join the Royal Navy as an Officer, and this started the curve ball rolling for us all!</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj50pZWmqQm77489wQe_zCNCXyRZt58KbjVQaOEet3rwFR8pLIfwi6CVy61F8aztR4Y3TrmzvTkweQwX5670B42L9-Hc0R_7gBPJ1PCmRiKjNrOYlQAZWWtsphponi5_xqx6cJBrJWGG_MnBz3OVxNstfMrDAIniPb8P1XPf_5gex1h_no_Or6Hj-sdpA/s1233/lucy_wedding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="822" data-original-width="1233" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj50pZWmqQm77489wQe_zCNCXyRZt58KbjVQaOEet3rwFR8pLIfwi6CVy61F8aztR4Y3TrmzvTkweQwX5670B42L9-Hc0R_7gBPJ1PCmRiKjNrOYlQAZWWtsphponi5_xqx6cJBrJWGG_MnBz3OVxNstfMrDAIniPb8P1XPf_5gex1h_no_Or6Hj-sdpA/w400-h266/lucy_wedding.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We had a wonderful day at Lucy and Charlie's wedding, at the end of August</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">I turned 40 in September and, rather than the huge party which I had always envisaged, we drove up to Scotland for a couple of weeks on a technology-free holiday. It was a very special holiday indeed, and we thoroughly enjoyed navigating the old-fashioned way using a 2018 road atlas that we borrowed from Alex's mum, and the Southern Upland Way guidebook. The first thing we did was get stuck in a traffic jam on the M25 because, of course, the atlas had no traffic information. Still, it was good for the children to experience traffic jams in the way we had to prior to the invention of Google Maps! Following this holiday, we drove back to Portugal via Spain, and had lots of fun on the road trip down, camping with the children and visiting Alex's cousin Edwina (after whom our dinghy was named) and her family in Lisbon. After a sailing trip on a charter yacht along the Algarve with some friends, we once again renewed our efforts to complete the in-flight boat tasks on Hope before having to leave the Schengen area at the end of December, due to our post-Brexit 90 day limit being up. The mast and the sails were on order, but neither showed any sign of arriving any time soon.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><span></span><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdSmV7MinB6Xf2Z8xaLj4aPWSVJc1hI6z6LbZL4BZNm5lg8h1es9VtjAfetw7XqTIJZLCTk5PEPDdVU0M4rApa_9ZRcMYKgAUBnQ8fSt7YMqafZ7wYEPmHRV66RuVXqEPCEnPXyclR1SRty05qTwKZhIegUrBsL37Sfi-UH16raU0riRrfxZRRJ0xf0A/s4128/lake_district_lunch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2322" data-original-width="4128" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdSmV7MinB6Xf2Z8xaLj4aPWSVJc1hI6z6LbZL4BZNm5lg8h1es9VtjAfetw7XqTIJZLCTk5PEPDdVU0M4rApa_9ZRcMYKgAUBnQ8fSt7YMqafZ7wYEPmHRV66RuVXqEPCEnPXyclR1SRty05qTwKZhIegUrBsL37Sfi-UH16raU0riRrfxZRRJ0xf0A/w400-h225/lake_district_lunch.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picnic overlooking Ullswater, on our drive up to Scotland for my 40th</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><h1 style="text-align: justify;">2022</h1><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDFwLqsZcQt7fpPGVztaCzNQI4MM_551GKkpyUCDVFksVkUiAD941fRt-4SL2lfuQ5JtsKXjC9FIo698txZy5gW0Lu7Snss5ITyk-lVl-NW7BAkcw4E9CFe2xe65kQLnWq_HGpW7Ke52UsBvRoU3WgOZVVzYrq4RSYQR0Qwj4Rw1PefezlgNPc-PPg2g/s4128/costa_rica_swim.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2322" data-original-width="4128" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDFwLqsZcQt7fpPGVztaCzNQI4MM_551GKkpyUCDVFksVkUiAD941fRt-4SL2lfuQ5JtsKXjC9FIo698txZy5gW0Lu7Snss5ITyk-lVl-NW7BAkcw4E9CFe2xe65kQLnWq_HGpW7Ke52UsBvRoU3WgOZVVzYrq4RSYQR0Qwj4Rw1PefezlgNPc-PPg2g/w400-h225/costa_rica_swim.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A nice spot for a wild swim and picnic, in the Costa Rican rainforest</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Back in London in January 2022, we were cold and decided to escape the UK winter once again, so the search began for a suitably cheap non-Schengen holiday location. I found great value flights to Costa Rica, and we jetted off to spend two months there, across three different Airbnbs. We had an absolutely super time; the weather was warm, very little English was spoken so we learned a lot of Spanish, the people were friendly and welcoming, and the wildlife was spectacular. We saw toucans, sloths, iguanas, poison dart frogs, huge spiders, macaws, crocodiles, snakes, vultures, monkeys - and all in their natural habitat, which made it all the more special! The rainforest was incredible, and we had fun exploring it, especially in the mountains where we found secluded spots for wild swims in gorgeous clear water. We visited two active volcanoes whilst there, and enjoyed ourselves in the hot springs nearby one of them. We visited a cocoa and coffee plantation, as well as a "trapiche" where we learned about the processing of cane sugar. Our final stay was a month on a dairy farm, where the children awoke at 5am every morning to help milk the cows. It was a truly educational trip, in so many ways, for us all.</p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMQrWBFRnyOPxnnTmik9GXZHRgMancQH4mmlqCZkboe-tpmQcmSgfiCD53CJJMrxvzhoDL5OUV-SOUvZ5_fSfhaOpFxg728c02EUMG-vZhIn_RERacsoZELGycTsicGSr2IlJi6gomrlIo_LVifIsQzi7yoTyoZUDfTwvZfSIBY89FdrAEbVCEc6iANQ/s2560/hot_springs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="2560" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMQrWBFRnyOPxnnTmik9GXZHRgMancQH4mmlqCZkboe-tpmQcmSgfiCD53CJJMrxvzhoDL5OUV-SOUvZ5_fSfhaOpFxg728c02EUMG-vZhIn_RERacsoZELGycTsicGSr2IlJi6gomrlIo_LVifIsQzi7yoTyoZUDfTwvZfSIBY89FdrAEbVCEc6iANQ/w400-h225/hot_springs.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying the hot springs, near Volcan Arenal</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">At the end of March, we flew back to Portugal where we finished up the remaining boat tasks, then finally saw our new mast being stepped, and launched Hope at the end of April. In truth, she was really not quite ready to be launched, but we couldn't bear to be in the boatyard any longer, so we moved her straight to a beautiful anchorage in Ferragudo on the Algarve, and spent another month and a half there doing more maintenance work both aboard Hope and on the beach (in the case of improvements to Edwina). We also, rather randomly, decided to buy a small plot of agricultural land near Silves, about 20 minutes from my parents. My mum had found it online and thought it a good investment, so sent me the details. It is mainly full of fruit trees (orange, lemon, persimmon) but also has a small agricultural pumphouse with a water well alongside, and an old cisterna, which used to be used for water storage. It has both water and electricity connections, and we saw that there could perhaps be the potential to build some sort of tiny home there, for times when we want to be in Portugal but have not travelled there aboard Hope. Very random but, hey, that's us! </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJKk53VgaLQQ6HGSPIkFJX5toBf-fLwiOWJG6o-KBCnFSOduUBklf5lVgvo9YJR8ZalBJWeYCiY6qrorAIdlu6Nt5QAo_xfOkpMS5v3cawNfprYoGryDaBFIOUI1SHLcSYBkNuIP7IB3M3CZ7hGfMTHVx0u7ajLYgueW3bi8Q5_qUW2z4netSGiDtwKw/s960/ferragudo_edwina.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="747" data-original-width="960" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJKk53VgaLQQ6HGSPIkFJX5toBf-fLwiOWJG6o-KBCnFSOduUBklf5lVgvo9YJR8ZalBJWeYCiY6qrorAIdlu6Nt5QAo_xfOkpMS5v3cawNfprYoGryDaBFIOUI1SHLcSYBkNuIP7IB3M3CZ7hGfMTHVx0u7ajLYgueW3bi8Q5_qUW2z4netSGiDtwKw/w400-h311/ferragudo_edwina.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">About to row back to Hope from the beach at Ferragudo</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">The Schengen clock was once again ticking, and we found ourselves having to leave Portugal towards the end of July, without our new sails (due to delays from the manufacturer). This was a real blow, since we changed the rig such that our old sails would no longer fit. We had shorted the mizzen boom so the old mizzen sail did not fit (and, in fact, this sail had gone missing in the boatyard so we didn't have this available anyway) and we got rid of our furling foresail, meaning our old genoa could no longer be hoisted. We had been given some old hanks (essentially clips which allow us to attach and hoist the old sail) so I spent many hours sewing these onto the old genoa. It worked surprisingly well, but meant that we only had sails suitable for either light or very heavy winds - nothing in between. Nevertheless, we managed to sail down the coast of Portugal and Spain, then into Gibraltar by the end of July, using a combination of our cobbled together sails and the engine. </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeM6zX5c_q7EKHx-ttfq3Huwx7tIegs0UHs1Shf-DW_4PeyPV6qY89BCPgnNFnIrY9UMNsIrZO4eCaumjbDwV2CzoQj_0-Eh0qjhcMt6mmkMd_jp-ypXmff3tcljhOiFw2OaEgDNSpIfscZm8tW4wXSTN0YNuXqHiWJ3yGVDnkAsvUajuNLR_IlsrRSg/s822/hope_sailing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="822" data-original-width="616" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeM6zX5c_q7EKHx-ttfq3Huwx7tIegs0UHs1Shf-DW_4PeyPV6qY89BCPgnNFnIrY9UMNsIrZO4eCaumjbDwV2CzoQj_0-Eh0qjhcMt6mmkMd_jp-ypXmff3tcljhOiFw2OaEgDNSpIfscZm8tW4wXSTN0YNuXqHiWJ3yGVDnkAsvUajuNLR_IlsrRSg/w300-h400/hope_sailing.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sailing downwind, using our old genoa with hanks sewn on along the luff</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">We could only book a berth in Gibraltar for a month, since they are now very busy with a multitude of British sailors wishing to stay there in order to avoid overstaying in the Schengen area. There are only a few marinas on the rock, and there are no options for anchoring. Other than Gibraltar, Brits could go to Morocco (as we did afterwards) or Croatia, but the latter has disappeared as an option since the start of 2023, when Croatia also joined the Schengen zone. We ended up being allowed to stay in our berth in Gibraltar for about six weeks, and we had the most wonderful time there. We found Gibraltar to be small, safe and friendly, with great fish and chips and wonderful weather. Alex's mum came to stay for a week, during which time we enjoyed some touristy activities, such as getting the cable car up to the National Park and exploring some of the sights and exhibitions up there.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghuUBPdMgQ6bCCf23nbaNLsGh7eqE7G6vjUeJEMtEokrwFgNIw1YwU350GWvdTR74uckvNCyb-TDPJ6hnvAzRxab9nrXIdTpk0Su7ncDtHJOTpTHk5UugJPFkNvxV6XnWaRAvKsG9SyyvoVy6vPCRjnjaZylai0NMmNEn_xLJcULUUKkT7eOn-zAAAQw/s4128/gibraltar%20bay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghuUBPdMgQ6bCCf23nbaNLsGh7eqE7G6vjUeJEMtEokrwFgNIw1YwU350GWvdTR74uckvNCyb-TDPJ6hnvAzRxab9nrXIdTpk0Su7ncDtHJOTpTHk5UugJPFkNvxV6XnWaRAvKsG9SyyvoVy6vPCRjnjaZylai0NMmNEn_xLJcULUUKkT7eOn-zAAAQw/w400-h300/gibraltar%20bay.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We found it very enjoyable to watch all the shipping in the bay of Gibraltar</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Following Gibraltar, we sailed to Morocco and spent a further six weeks berthed in Tangier, which was very pleasant. We celebrated Alex's birthday with a trip on the bullet train via Casablanca to Marrakech. We explored the Atlas mountains, had a camel ride and visited a traditional Berber settlement where we enjoyed the most delicious home-cooked meal and learned about the Berber culture. We then hosted Alex's dad, who came to stay for a week, and had great fun exploring more of the local area in Tangier on foot and on the tourist open-top bus. One of our favourite things about Tangier was the local food market, where we could buy fruit and vegetables very cheaply and we never felt we were being ripped off or given a different price due to being tourists. We also enjoyed hearing the daily calls to prayer ring out across the city, and we spent some time learning about Islam as part of our homeschooling with the children. </p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAcuiAkd54_0leGjdVUqRoU7LSDT4GOXVZqxW-XuLESYf4WNb1Z2RRv3MvYOyw_pbHJnEbCySPT4yKU5lIQQGvFYpWATl4IB1Ct40EH0IJj6hc10z8WKO7lLNhZDbVGbNXxzyrKST38WtqsKaH4LC-Gb4--A5L-cBA4KNg_KCtGISuI9bck5GeINPaXQ/s4128/morocco.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4128" data-original-width="3096" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAcuiAkd54_0leGjdVUqRoU7LSDT4GOXVZqxW-XuLESYf4WNb1Z2RRv3MvYOyw_pbHJnEbCySPT4yKU5lIQQGvFYpWATl4IB1Ct40EH0IJj6hc10z8WKO7lLNhZDbVGbNXxzyrKST38WtqsKaH4LC-Gb4--A5L-cBA4KNg_KCtGISuI9bck5GeINPaXQ/w300-h400/morocco.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wearing traditional Berber dress, ready for our camel ride</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Whilst in Tangier, Alex found out that he had been accepted to train as a Warfare Officer with the Royal Navy, starting in January 2023, and so we realised that we quickly needed to prepare for this by getting Hope back to Portugal and into a semi-permanent berth there in Lagos. When we initially talked about plans for whilst Alex was in the Navy, I had envisaged continuing to sail Hope with just myself and the children, but the summer of sailing made me realise that this was not a good idea. Whilst we had a super time, it was very hard work, and that was with both myself and Alex being there to look after the yacht and the children! I realised that an attempt to do so on my own, especially whilst the children are still relatively young, would be rather stressful and I didn't think it would be fair on any of us. So, with this in mind, I decided to berth her in a nice marina on the Algarve, where the kids and I can come and go (within the Schengen limits, of course) as we please.</p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgagkXeikFbM61OC0BWTk8lLOYCU2fc_z2gaxw6zZ-YwOdeIq0WB81yYn_1pZ1aY2fu6QKzyWS_MXuNnvdSwQE5BJazr8QnQwcz2bGtWJg_wgHmI_9UcuNVGp93sUkHm5_xAWzQrM0eGZjaRGM8He8J_tYV_PrtF-8OTA1Dc2w4eU-dx85CkFj8P1fSdg/s4128/sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4128" data-original-width="3096" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgagkXeikFbM61OC0BWTk8lLOYCU2fc_z2gaxw6zZ-YwOdeIq0WB81yYn_1pZ1aY2fu6QKzyWS_MXuNnvdSwQE5BJazr8QnQwcz2bGtWJg_wgHmI_9UcuNVGp93sUkHm5_xAWzQrM0eGZjaRGM8He8J_tYV_PrtF-8OTA1Dc2w4eU-dx85CkFj8P1fSdg/w300-h400/sunset.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watching the sunset before our night watch, on passage from Morocco to Portugal<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">We sailed back to Portugal, enjoying a lovely night passage with a glorious sunset and full moon. The children took their first night watch with me, staying up until 11pm (at which point I sent them to bed whilst I continued until 1am). Once Hope was settled in her berth, we set to work making plans for the plot of land. We hoped that, if we could convert the pumphouse into a tiny home prior to leaving the Schengen again at the end of December, then that would be another accommodation option for me and the children in 2023. We spent a month or so camping on the land, until it got too cold to be comfortable, but did not manage to achieve this goal. We spent a huge amount of time clearing the land which was thick with brambles and weeds, and there is still more of that work to be done. We did, however, find time to build a shower and composting toilet room, and put a storage shed on the land, in which to store our tent and cooking/camping supplies. So, whilst there is a lot still to do, the children and I can go back there next summer and have fun progressing the work there.</p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMA6MzpLR-uWYe63p_9SZ1a_KXi8h7A51Eq5i_hakIRlKVCX_t_RAmYHFrsI7rQr9TQOD3XFtpJQkk3XhUFmO454qz0A63Obmh1yiNS92PL-1dpjVXdDjEY6TUO0BYW5kqjYtWW5FX372xDyR-ZrTQvwGr90qIHFaiPgt-uQ-IdoT8HlCvtEZ1TrbO9w/s3096/clearing_land.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2821" data-original-width="3096" height="365" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMA6MzpLR-uWYe63p_9SZ1a_KXi8h7A51Eq5i_hakIRlKVCX_t_RAmYHFrsI7rQr9TQOD3XFtpJQkk3XhUFmO454qz0A63Obmh1yiNS92PL-1dpjVXdDjEY6TUO0BYW5kqjYtWW5FX372xDyR-ZrTQvwGr90qIHFaiPgt-uQ-IdoT8HlCvtEZ1TrbO9w/w400-h365/clearing_land.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Plenty of work to be done, clearing the land</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><h1 style="text-align: justify;">Plans for 2023</h1><p style="text-align: justify;">Phew, well, this has turned into rather a large nutshell... a coconut shell perhaps?! Luckily, this last section will be short as, quite frankly, we don't have a clue what we will be doing in 2023! Alex will be training down in Dartmouth and, for at least the first six months, we won't be able to see him at all other than the odd weekend when he is allowed out of the college. Initially, the children and I are going to Turkey for a month but then we will return to the UK to see Alex, and must remain in the UK whilst Zach and I apply for new passports. Beyond that, we will just see what happens... we plan on spending time in Portugal, both on Hope and on the land, and will have to see where we end up in between those periods, when our 90 day Schengen limit runs out. I plan on blogging a little during this new adventure, as a good way of sharing my experiences with family and friends, so let's see how it goes and where we will be by the end of 2023! Exciting times ahead, with lots of opportunities and plenty of unknowns. Pretty much life as normal, then, in this Great Adventure!</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06821472236408880197noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1229588946568695315.post-73623764125777278302018-10-06T21:26:00.000+01:002018-10-06T21:26:10.650+01:00A New Hope<div style="text-align: justify;">
It has been a while since we have written about our sailing adventures. The reason for that is that we haven't been properly sailing for a couple of years, as we haven't had a working boat. Here's a short recap:</div>
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Firebird May 2012 - May 2014</h4>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A nice lump of iron hanging down, waiting to hit something or fall off</td></tr>
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We sailed good old Firebird, our first boat, from London to the Canary Islands, where we sold her. She was a great boat and we had so much fun (and our fair share of fear!) in her, but we decided that she wasn't safe enough for offshore sailing. Although well built, she was of modern design, with a fin keel, saildrive and spade rudder, which we just weren't comfortable with. We would rather sacrifice cruising speed and low-speed manoeuvrability in favour of safety and comfort when things get lively.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Firebird moored next to Seahorse while we negotiated the purchase of Seahorse</td></tr>
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Seahorse May 2014 - October 2016</h4>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Along with wearing that hat, buying Seahorse turned out to be a mistake</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">We bought Seahorse on Fuerteventura (in the Canary Islands). She was of steel construction, had a full keel, ketch rigged and had steel bulkheads creating three watertight sections, just like the Titanic had. Unsinkable! We bought her knowing that we had a lot of work to do before she would be ready to go cruising. Like, a </span><i style="text-align: justify;">lot </i><span style="text-align: justify;">of work!</span></div>
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We only ever made two voyages aboard Seahorse (a <a href="http://mitchyboyandgirl.blogspot.com/2015/11/maiden-voyage.html">short one</a> and a <a href="http://mitchyboyandgirl.blogspot.com/2016/02/a-grueling-journey.html">long one</a>), but we got more than enough excitement out of those two trips!</div>
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We were well into the refit when our baby girl was born. This changed our perspective and we wanted to be together as a family, out sailing, rather than being split between baby-duties and boatyard-duties (the two were incompatible as the boatyard was not a particularly healthy environment for anyone, least of all a fresh little baby).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the boatyard in Lagos, having removed the old engine. Well, the replacement engine was a waste of money, but we had fun working on the old girl in the sun!</td></tr>
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Sunbow July 2016 - May 2017</h4>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She's covered in tarpaulins because she leaked like a sieve when it rained! She never really saw the light of day</td></tr>
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And so it was that we sold Seahorse and bought Sunbow, a lovely ferro-cement ketch who was "good to go", in need of just a lick of paint. This, however, turned out to be very far from the truth. The previous owner was a true gentleman who wouldn't dream of deceiving a soul. He sold her in the condition that she was in his memory from eight years previously. She hadn't been used in all that time and we discovered that many systems on a boat can fall into disrepair over such a long period. We were naive enough to buy her without commissioning a survey, which we had ample opportunity to do. Once we moved aboard and started getting her ready to go, we kept unearthing problem after problem, some of which were substantial. The whole point of buying Sunbow was that we didn't want to be spending a year or more stuck in a boatyard now that we had a family. We had traded fixing up a boat in warm Portugal for fixing one in freezing cold, wet England. We cut our losses, which were substantial by this point and sold her so that we could find a more suitable home. We never once got to sail Sunbow.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh look, we're in a boatyard. Again. Freezing our nadgers off this time, trying to make use of the pitifully short November daylight</td></tr>
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August 2017, a New Hope</h4>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our latest humble abode</td></tr>
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That brings us almost up to date with our boating history. After heading back to work in London to pay for our previous mistake with Sunbow and arranging plenty of boat viewings, we found what we hope will take us on the next leg of The Great Adventure. We are now the proud owners of Matchmaker II, a Neptunian 33. She's a well-built fibreglass ketch with a full keel and keel-hung rudder.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For once, we're leaving a boatyard...don't worry, it didn't last long</td></tr>
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After the Sunbow fiasco, we decided that we would never again buy a boat without first going out on a test sail and having a survey taken. She passed both with flying colours...and then she spent the next year in Shotley boatyard on the East Coast, out of action due to, amongst other things, total engine failure. The anti-syphon loop had been installed too low so after our first, very short trip from where we had bought her to a marina across the river, the engine flooded with seawater. So much for dotting the I's and crossing the T's. Anyway, she is pretty much operational now and we have sailed her further than we ever did with Sunbow (not hard!) and made more trips than we did with Seahorse (again, not a toughie!). Most importantly, we're very happy with her and she's now just about ready to take us anywhere we wish to go.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Epr715WWIv0/W7kGLvlgAjI/AAAAAAAAPB4/uflG0w-LLn0zvqI_brnObOfPeybTGmy9QCEwYBhgL/s1600/80867.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Epr715WWIv0/W7kGLvlgAjI/AAAAAAAAPB4/uflG0w-LLn0zvqI_brnObOfPeybTGmy9QCEwYBhgL/s640/80867.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"The Admiral", as the onlookers at the lock into the marina were calling her, overseeing all operations from the bridge.<br />This was after our first short journey after buying Matchmaker, right before she was out of action for the next year.</td></tr>
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Matchmaker was something of a surprise find. We were in the area viewing another yacht which we really liked but ultimately decided against. The broker suggested that we should view Matchmaker. From the sales literature, we didn't really think she was going to be any good for us so when we went to view her on her mooring buoy on the Stour, Kate stayed ashore with Beth while I went alone with the owner to kick the tyres. As soon as I started looking around, however, I got a really good feeling. Luckily, the previous owner was another nice chap and he didn't mind returning ashore in his dinghy to fetch Kate after I told her that she really should take a look at this one.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first view of Matchmaker as we approached in the previous owner's dinghy</td></tr>
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The rest, as they say, is history. The only problem is that we didn't like the name Matchmaker. It had no relevance to us and on its own, seemed a pretty bad name for a yacht. As with many of the other sailors out there, we're pretty superstitious when it comes to matters concerning the sea, so we didn't want to risk bad luck by renaming her. When we received the paperwork, however, we were delighted to see that she had already been renamed, so we figured that whoever did the first rename would have taken the fall for the bad luck and that we weren't making matters worse by renaming her again. The new name? Hope.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iqPvxAMsr3c/W7kFTj8NVAI/AAAAAAAAPBk/wTbqPcMlDl4ZTbFerYuLa7gXVbyJzpCdQCEwYBhgL/s1600/P1150792.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iqPvxAMsr3c/W7kFTj8NVAI/AAAAAAAAPBk/wTbqPcMlDl4ZTbFerYuLa7gXVbyJzpCdQCEwYBhgL/s400/P1150792.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Performing the renaming ceremony. We hope that Neptune likes alcohol free beer</td></tr>
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We're hoping that we will be able to set off again in the spring. Hope was ready too late in the season for us to have a pleasant journey south and, in any case, the latest crew member would have probably been born mid-Bay of Biscay had we have set off, so we figured it was better to lay Hope up for the winter.<br />
<br />
So there you have it, we now live in Hope.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Putting the new name on</td></tr>
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Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10685263692271779240noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1229588946568695315.post-57691102451481999762018-05-09T21:34:00.000+01:002018-05-09T21:34:03.623+01:00London Marathon 2018<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">While driving up the M3 the other week, I thought I would clock 26 miles on the hire car's odometer, just to see how far I would soon be running. I thought it would flash past, but it didn't. I kept saying to Kate "It's still going. I can't believe it's still going"! Well, if it seemed like a long way from the comfort of a climate-controlled car seat, having run the hottest ever London Marathon, I am now in a position to state, with a great deal of confidence, that 26.2 miles is indeed a long way. In case you hadn't guessed, this was the first marathon that I had run, although I have done a few half marathons over the years. I was running to <a href="https://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/AlexMitchellMarathon">raise money for the RNLI</a> (lifeboats).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-q2ZPO5o1pfY/WvILczg14yI/AAAAAAAAFok/dF68g_6X_WML45euvHREVdXrzUqxi3bSQCLcBGAs/s1600/kate_beth_flag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="1599" height="356" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-q2ZPO5o1pfY/WvILczg14yI/AAAAAAAAFok/dF68g_6X_WML45euvHREVdXrzUqxi3bSQCLcBGAs/s640/kate_beth_flag.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Kate & Beth practising their role ahead of the big day</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I seem to have gotten ahead of myself and jumped to the end already. There was a fair amount of running that came before that point, so I better back it up a bit. Did I mention that 26 miles is a long way?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I got to the red start area with about 50 minutes to spare. It's this time of a race that I don't really like, because I start agonising over every little detail that I wouldn't otherwise think twice about. Let's take, for example, shoelaces. I have been successfully tying my shoelaces for decades. Before every training run, I simply slip my trainers on, lace them up, and off I go. Never once has a lace come undone. Never once has a trainer felt too tight. Never once has a trainer felt too loose.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On race day, however...boy oh boy, on race day...I'll do my laces up, take one step and it feels as though Zeus himself has descended from Mount Olympus to tie my laces. They're cripplingly tight. I'm definitely going to damage my feet if I leave them done up this tight, so I stop again, untie my meticulous bow and let a fraction of a millimetre of lace out. I don't want to overdo it, because I know what's going to happen next. I stand up, take another step and <i>damnit</i>, just as I knew, I've overdone it and now my trainers feel like they're so loose that they'll be blown off my feet from the faintest puff of air caused by a pigeon flying overhead. This just won't do, I'll have to tighten them again, so I get back down on my knees and pull a micrometre of lace through. This time is the one. They feel great. This lace tightness is going to win the race for me, so it's time to double knot these bad boys. The last thing I want is for a lace to come undone while I'm running, so I loop the laces back round and pull as hard as I can. Then I give them another solid tug, just to make sure that the previous tightening was definitely the tightest I could manage. Right, I'm all done with my laces. Again. Except, when I start walking, the left one feels slightly tighter than the right one, which is really annoying and is definitely going to make it hard to keep up with Mo, so I have to stop to make them even. The problem now is that the flipping double knot that I've tied takes ages to undo because I've pulled it so tight that it resembles a small raisin.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">You get the idea. Then there's eating and drinking to think about, when to join my start pen, how much warming up and stretching I should do, and, of course, going to the toilet.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m6A7YSKVQPk/WvIUHt4py0I/AAAAAAAAFpQ/JUzkHzDtz8M_A3fdVTV5ydl-6KVDvnkJwCLcBGAs/s1600/rnli_marathon_photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1041" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m6A7YSKVQPk/WvIUHt4py0I/AAAAAAAAFpQ/JUzkHzDtz8M_A3fdVTV5ydl-6KVDvnkJwCLcBGAs/s640/rnli_marathon_photo.jpg" width="416" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The smiles were all for show. I didn't feel like that on the inside!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Thankfully, the organisers had put a couple of urinal zones into the start area so I could skip the <i>huge </i>queues for the portaloos. I mean, wow, that was definitely not a good time to drop anchor. The urinals weren't exactly plain sailing, though. In order to get as many units in as possible, they had put them in back to back. I'm all for having as many urinals as they could fit in, and it meant that there was no queuing whatsoever when visiting the urination station, but what it did mean was that you were almost nose to nose with the chap relieving himself opposite you. With people crammed in on both sides as well, there was nowhere neutral to look, apart from straight up into space, but that would have looked weird. In an attempt to appear nonchalant at the unusual circumstances, it was tempting to whistle a tune, but then I would have just been whistling at the guy opposite, which would have been even weirder, so instead I just marvelled at how much urine was simultaneously gushing into the tank in front of me (it could clearly be heard flooding in. There was no flush - this torrent was 100% man-made).</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">With the pre-start over and done with, I joined my start pen. Actually, I didn't. I had been assigned to pen 1, which is to say, the pen where the fastest runners would go. This is almost certainly because I put an optimistic finish time down when I filled in my entry form. I can't remember exactly what I had been hoping for but, unfortunately, I was forced to miss a fair number of sessions </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">throughout my training</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> due to injury.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Anyway, given that I wasn't going to finish in anywhere near 3 hours or under, I didn't want to join pen 1 and get in the way of faster runners, so I dropped back to pen 3. You're allowed to move back to a slower pen, but not to move up to a faster one than you have been allocated. I chose pen 3 because, according to their website, the Runner's World Pace Team for a 3:30 finish was supposed to be joining that pen. I nervously waited around, looking out for them. In a pen or two further back, I could see the flags of the 3:45 pacers above the heads of the crowds lined up and ready to go, but there was still no sign of the 3:30 guys. Then, with about 10 minutes to go before the start, the two 3:30 pacers turned up and joined pen 2! They really screwed me over with that move because, by now, the pens were pretty full. I had to fight my way back out of pen 3 and join the large queue of last-minute people joining pen 2 (probably the same people who had been waiting to drop the kids off at the pool while I had been contemplating the miracle of the torrent flowing into the urinals).</span></span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SqnHfh42Gds/WvIVk0ohvdI/AAAAAAAAFpk/4N-SKYMcMGM1iV4toUwFxCzmRFkDi7c3ACLcBGAs/s1600/mo_map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="577" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SqnHfh42Gds/WvIVk0ohvdI/AAAAAAAAFpk/4N-SKYMcMGM1iV4toUwFxCzmRFkDi7c3ACLcBGAs/s400/mo_map.jpg" width="225" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I was only about 10.5 miles behind Mo!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">When all was said and done, I was, finally, in the right place and ready to go. A video of Mo Farah training in Kenya was playing on the big screen and I was feeling excited. Nervous and excited. I decided to check my heart rate (on my GPS watch) because I had sat through a presentation where the marathon mentor recommended staying calm before the start, or else you'll just be burning up energy needlessly. As I watched my heart rate, it was slowly climbing as the start of the race drew nearer. It rose from a steady 60 bpm up to an absurd 90 bpm. My heart was running at 150% of normal and all I was doing was standing still!</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Queen pressed her big red button and off we all went. It was, obviously, very crowded. I kind of expected the situation to calm down somewhat as people's different paces caused the throng to separate, but that never happened. It was busy, with slower people to be avoided and skirted around, and faster people doing the same to me, for the next 26.2 miles. What did ease off was the strong smell of Deep Heat that permeated the air for the first mile (other heat therapy pain relief brands are available). I guess that, like me, a lot of other people were carrying niggles and injuries into the race.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I had been agonising the night before as to whether to follow the 3:30 or the 3:45 pacers. I felt that I could possibly manage 3:30 even though it would be a real challenge. I figured that, barring any catastrophes, a 3:45 finish should be reasonably assured, but I didn't know how the heat was going to affect me. We had received at least a couple of emails from the race organisers saying that we should revise our target finish times in the hot weather. In the end, I had settled on going for 3:30 because I would rather challenge myself and take the harder option, even if that ultimately meant crashing and burning and ending up with a worse time, than taking the easier option, managing it OK and forevermore wishing that I had gone for 3:30.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The 3:30 pace felt fast but manageable at the beginning. It was <i>hot</i>, though and I was immediately struck by how much more water I was drinking that I had ever done in training. I was worried that my bottle wouldn't even last me until the first water station at 2.5 miles.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qq3VQ-YrWz4/WvIWY_wRpHI/AAAAAAAAFps/QV-L4KiqViMyVkozKKNkds6HxZbl98R-gCLcBGAs/s1600/watching_marathon_lanzarote.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qq3VQ-YrWz4/WvIWY_wRpHI/AAAAAAAAFps/QV-L4KiqViMyVkozKKNkds6HxZbl98R-gCLcBGAs/s640/watching_marathon_lanzarote.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">This is how to 'do' the London Marathon. We were following my sister run the 2014 London Marathon from the</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">comfort of a cafe on Lanzarote</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">After around 5 miles, the pacer that I was following nipped off for a wee at the portaloos by the side of the course. He couldn't actually fit inside the toilet, because the flag on his back was too high, so he had to go by the side! I wasn't sure whether this wee stop was a tactical part of the 3:30 pace strategy and we were all expected to join him, but I thought better of it, which was just as well because he had to work hard to catch up, which he eventually did.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">At around mile 7, I saw the first person go down. She was not far in front of me and one second she was running, the next she was headed for the floor as though someone had turned her off. I guess that spectators could tell what a state she was in from in front and could tell what was about to happen because I'm fairly sure she was caught before she actually hit the deck. Luckily for her, she was running at the edge of the road. She was one of a fair number of people who I saw scattered throughout the course, being treated or waiting for treatment. In fact, it was quite shocking to see so many people in that state. I didn't bother to stop for any of them because there were always others on hand and I figured that another non-medically trained person crowding round was not what was required. In any case, the "motto" of this year's race, so to speak, was #SpiritOfLondon and if there's one thing I know about the spirit of London, having grown up here and spent many years commuting in the city, it's that you've gotta be pretty lucky to have someone stop to help you if you fall over.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">After the shock of seeing that lady collapse, and considering that I was already struggling to keep up with the 3:30 pacers, I decided to ease off a bit. I was worried that if I had have carried on at that speed, I would have been joining those poor people lying on the floor getting a visit from St John Ambulance.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D000kKiRik0/WvIUa87mGdI/AAAAAAAAFpY/FWJkF6myzNAYYJRckoFzIPbYIQbxq9T0ACLcBGAs/s1600/pain_face.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="908" data-original-width="602" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D000kKiRik0/WvIUa87mGdI/AAAAAAAAFpY/FWJkF6myzNAYYJRckoFzIPbYIQbxq9T0ACLcBGAs/s400/pain_face.png" width="265" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">My true race face! I think I looked like this for about 20 miles!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">My plan was to slow down from 7.5mph to 7.0mph, which should have seen me finish somewhere between 3:30 and 3:45. As the miles wore on though, I found that I couldn't even maintain that pace, so I slowed down further and I told myself that if I got overtaken by the 3:45 pacers, I would make sure that I kept up with them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Along the way, I saw several people in fancy dress. Of the ones that stood out, one guy was dressed as the Gingerbread Man. On his back, it said </span>"Run, run, run as fast as you can. You’ll never catch me, I’m the gingerbread man.". Thankfully, I did catch him. Relatively easily. I think his back should have read "Run, run, run as fast as you can. You'll catch me because it's 24.1°C and I decided to run the hottest London Marathon in a fluffy all-in-one suit". Maybe he couldn't quite fit that message in! As I passed the Gingerbread Man, another runner was pouring their water bottle over his head!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Then there was the tree. This joker was making an official attempt at the world record (presumably for the fastest tree to run a marathon). I reckoned that tree man would also be an easy target, but he was surprisingly nimble. He even stopped to interact with some of his supporters, before sprinting off again. I'm ashamed to say that I didn't beat the tree, but I did see him receiving a certificate after I had crossed the finish line, so I guess he got his record and at least I can say that I was beaten by the fastest tree on the planet.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Talking of supporters, I had a merry band of supporters of my own. My mum, dad, sister, sister's girlfriend, Kate and Beth were all there and popped up at several pre-planned points along the route, and a couple of unexpected ones as well, which made for a great surprise. The crowd, in general, was amazing, but there's something extra motivational about having loved ones to cheer you on. We even managed a few high-fives as I passed. On top of that, I was spotted by an old uni friend who happened to be spectating and I also saw friends who we met and very much enjoyed spending time with on Lanzarote. I think they may also be The Great Adventure's biggest fans! It seemed like most of London was out! I also had the nice surprise of seeing my brother-in-law at the finish. He had tried to cheer me over the line, but spectators aren't actually allowed anywhere near the finish line so he had to meet me as I left the controlled-access area.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> </span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-50SyHNe1I6w/WvITllhP3PI/AAAAAAAAFpI/RBTR5690FfEXrcKHsMTB1X5RECHul42vwCLcBGAs/s1600/finished_medal.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="904" data-original-width="604" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-50SyHNe1I6w/WvITllhP3PI/AAAAAAAAFpI/RBTR5690FfEXrcKHsMTB1X5RECHul42vwCLcBGAs/s320/finished_medal.png" width="213" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was finally over!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I enjoyed looking at some of the wacky signs and props that people had in the crowd. I squeezed an old hooter ("Free honks", the sign said), hit a few signs that said "Hit for a power-up", and almost laughed out loud when I was feeling ridiculously tired and saw a sign that said "Remember: You paid to do this". Amongst the unhelpful signs was: "Only 5.5 Park Runs to go". Feeling as exhausted as I did at that point, the thought of running 5.5 back-to-back Park Runs (at 5km each) was exactly the opposite of what I needed! Also, the buffoon standing at about mile 9 who had a sign saying "The last mile is all in your head" was not at all helpful. It wasn't the last mile that I was worried about, it was the 16 that I had to do before then that were weighing heavy!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">By the time I reached the finish, I was totally destroyed. The last kilometre seemed to really drag. There were countdown signs every 200m from that point and each one lingered in the distance, refusing to get nearer as I ran towards it. I passed two more fallen comrades right on the final corner with the finish line clearly in sight. I couldn't believe that they had gone down so close to the end, but I felt like I could easily be joining them, so just focused on keeping going.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I wasn't completely sure where the finish line was, but I was immensely relieved when I figured that I had finally crossed it! The problem was that there was a big sign saying "CONGRATULATIONS", which I presumed would be it, but I couldn't see the word "finish" anywhere and there was another gantry after the first, so I kept running until someone tried to put a medal round my neck.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> </span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Vb1GvscH-v8/WvIS8zoHepI/AAAAAAAAFo8/U6jSKcFI7EIBN3G3L7GFIVGiGr0Y5ZIJwCLcBGAs/s1600/meeting_point.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Vb1GvscH-v8/WvIS8zoHepI/AAAAAAAAFo8/U6jSKcFI7EIBN3G3L7GFIVGiGr0Y5ZIJwCLcBGAs/s400/meeting_point.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">My merry band of supporters</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">After that point, I was completely euphoric. The last time I have been that glad to finish doing something was after our 16-day epic sail from Lanzarote to Portugal. The funny thing was that it kind of seemed like the zombie apocalypse had happened while I had been running the marathon because I suddenly found myself amongst a load of dazed-looking people all walking slowly around with weird limps. It could easily have been a scene out of a zombie movie!</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I slowly made my way to the designated "M" meeting point and sat on the floor while I waited for my supporters to turn up because I didn't have the energy for any more standing. Once everyone had assembled, we (slowly) made our way to Five Guys for a celebratory meal. I chose Five Guys because that's what Radio 1 DJ Adele Roberts said that she had done last year when I heard her talking about running her first marathon, and it had stuck in my mind as a good idea!</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">So, how did I do? Well, the 3:45 pacers never did overtake me, so I thought that I had made a sub 3:45 time, but it turned out that both of the 3:45 pacers had dropped out behind me, as had the 3:30 pacers in front of me. My only guess is that the heat hit them hard and they weren't able to maintain their designated pace. My time was 3:48:41 in the end, which I was happy with, given the conditions. I'm also happy that I punished myself to try and get 3:30 because I felt that I owed it to all my sponsors to give it my all. If you did sponsor me, thank you so much. I was really bowled over by how generous you all were (if you now feel inspired to do so, you can here:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><a href="https://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/AlexMitchellMarathon">https://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/AlexMitchellMarathon</a>).</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eiGNMhUMCEc/WvIRigbsyyI/AAAAAAAAFo0/moQtaQSudO4u0U7uHctX4v0C20z0HOJuACLcBGAs/s1600/finished_on_floor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eiGNMhUMCEc/WvIRigbsyyI/AAAAAAAAFo0/moQtaQSudO4u0U7uHctX4v0C20z0HOJuACLcBGAs/s400/finished_on_floor.jpg" width="300" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I was a broken man at this point, but so, so glad to be done!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">While I was sitting on the floor at the finish, my sister asked if I would do another marathon. I told her that she must be joking, but since then, I have entered the ballot for next year! Considering that I have been trying to get a ballot place for 9 years (as opposed to a charity place which seems easier to obtain, but for which you have to raise a lot of sponsorship money), I'm not holding my breath on getting a place. I'll leave it in fate's hands, but I do feel that I have a score to settle with London. I'm coming for that 3:30!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Addendum:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I beat the tree! I drafted this post up a week or so ago and since then, I receive an email from the marathon organisers with a link to all the <a href="https://www.virginmoneylondonmarathon.com/en-gb/news-media/latest-news/item/thirty-four-guinness-world-records-fall-at-2018-london-marathon/">records that were set</a>. Tree Man (Tim Perkins) did it in 3:52:35. In my exhausted state, I must not have noticed overtaking him.</span></div>
Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10685263692271779240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1229588946568695315.post-5711713248626199422017-01-29T17:56:00.000+00:002017-01-29T17:56:17.510+00:00New Year, New Plan<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">
Alex decided recently that we shouldn't use the word 'plan' to describe what we hope to do next, as it always changes. Instead, we should use the term 'idea' in order to convey the fact that it may not happen. I think he may be onto something there, as already our idea for how 2017 might pan out has changed dramatically. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t81SF0yL6yo/WI4fxP-UOoI/AAAAAAAAFUw/cQt3DR4_TwAOtOt7V-L6rBrC6Wpd_4QaACLcB/s400/20161225_162755--1306892441%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beth''s first Christmas was spent in Normandy with the Mitchells, <br />
in an Airbnb as opposed to on our boat.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">
2016 came to an end with us not completing the rudder in time to cross the Channel, so we left the partially constructed frame in Somerset and hopped on a ferry to Dieppe. We enjoyed a much needed Christmas break, staying in various Airbnbs around Normandy with Alex's family and friends, before returning to Bursledon in the New Year. After a couple of days back home on the cold, damp boat, we were feeling pretty deflated, to say the least. It was such a depressing feeling, because we have always loved living on boats, and every previous boat has really felt like home and been perfectly habitable, even during winter. Neither of us liked the fact that we now dreaded coming back home, as the living conditions were so dismal. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wtkNwwWp0C4/WI4f1jbFkpI/AAAAAAAAFU4/9qo0qyaJfxUaCP5xkkRD4wgCdu1CxefIQCEw/s1600/20161230_092833-515181014%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wtkNwwWp0C4/WI4f1jbFkpI/AAAAAAAAFU4/9qo0qyaJfxUaCP5xkkRD4wgCdu1CxefIQCEw/s400/20161230_092833-515181014%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We spent three nights in this little caravan insulated with straw bales, <br />
which was perfect for us. A nice small space with no leaks!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">
We planned to go back to Somerset mid-January to complete the rudder, and in the meantime tried to gather the motivation to get some work done on the boat. It took me all of two days to formulate a new idea, which was very well received by Alex, and we set about putting this new idea in motion. The idea was based upon the fact that our aim in life is to enjoy ourselves, and we were definitely not doing so in our current situation. I put it to Alex that we might as well cover the boat up and leave her for a few months, heading to London to work and earn some much-needed cash. This way, we would be able to avoid spending the rest of winter aboard our unfinished vessel and, instead, could return to her later in the year, when the days would be longer, the weather warmer and our bank accounts replenished. The new idea was a big hit, and so we got to work making the boat weathertight, before packing up and getting out of there as fast as possible!</div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l8Ol_kkGcHo/WI4f1FBnVmI/AAAAAAAAFU0/fT_BCzZLs_0Hm5HfHeb-LmxwUMkhPeDjQCEw/s1600/20161231_211328-412600760%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l8Ol_kkGcHo/WI4f1FBnVmI/AAAAAAAAFU0/fT_BCzZLs_0Hm5HfHeb-LmxwUMkhPeDjQCEw/s400/20161231_211328-412600760%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Year's was spent with a load of Alex's friends, in a big old farmhouse with an open fire. <br />
We ate like kings and had a wonderful time, which made returning to the boat even harder.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">
We stuck to our plan to head to Somerset, as Alex was looking forward to continuing work on the rudder and we were also looking forward to seeing my parents. Sadly, my Nan passed away unexpectedly just a few days before we arrived, peacefully at the good old age of 93, but it was still a reminder that you never know when your time is up, which is why it's important to make the most of life. We were glad to be with my parents at this difficult time, supporting them as much as possible and, of course, having Beth around was a welcome distraction. We also celebrated "Fake Christmas" whilst in Somerset, having not seen my parents over the real Christmas period. Having committed to a plant-based diet as our New Year's resolution, Alex and I made a delicious nut roast for Fake Christmas lunch, which everyone enjoyed.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QLTcMnbJGAE/WI4f1gHwuzI/AAAAAAAAFVQ/FtNWD6BC6bsIoqrkhVrNMHm_UgyY0wEcwCEw/s1600/20170115_143652--1116780141%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QLTcMnbJGAE/WI4f1gHwuzI/AAAAAAAAFVQ/FtNWD6BC6bsIoqrkhVrNMHm_UgyY0wEcwCEw/s400/20170115_143652--1116780141%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Fake Christmas" lunch with the Shepherds and my Aunt Susan. <br />
I hope Beth doesn't start to think that Christmas is a monthly occurrence...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">
Following the festivities, Alex got cracking with the rudder and did a sterling job of finishing the stainless steel frame. Sadly, we weren't able to progress to the next stage of gluing and fibreglassing the rudder, due to the weather. With temperatures hovering around zero, and a minimum working temperature of 5°C for the epoxy resin, we weren't keen to repeat our experiences from the aft cabin work. Working with cold epoxy seems to be much more difficult due to its decreased viscosity, which results in larger quantities being used and lots of stress when trying to get a good finish. We decided that, given we wouldn't be fitting the rudder again until at least May, we might as well wait another couple of months and finish the construction when the weather is warmer. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Cz00DzrvT8M/WI4f4dj4M7I/AAAAAAAAFVQ/-908t_TXiQwzvlLA9z3yF4IXTSIPJQlCgCEw/s1600/20170124_121948-778439259%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Cz00DzrvT8M/WI4f4dj4M7I/AAAAAAAAFVQ/-908t_TXiQwzvlLA9z3yF4IXTSIPJQlCgCEw/s400/20170124_121948-778439259%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex with the finished rudder frame. Now we just need to cover the <br />
metal 'tangs' in marine ply, fibreglass and paint it. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">
The day after my Nan's funeral, we drove to London via the boat, to collect our living essentials ready for the few months we'd be away. I find it quite frustrating that we can easily get by with so few belongings that we can fit in a Fiat 500 hire car, yet for some reason we own enough to fill a 45 foot boat. I wonder if it's due to our consumerist society that we feel the need to fill the space we live in, or whether it's just human nature. Did our ancestors fill their caves with a plethora of rocks, bones, sticks and stones or anything else they found that might be visually appealing or potentiality useful, or did they enjoy a clutter-free existence, knowing that they would have to lug a load of replaceable crap to the next cave if they needed to move on?</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hwuaaHY3jZU/WI4fwSW0a-I/AAAAAAAAFVI/KzHAcLlBEYkKi5duZJ4BVESTZp2fUa7qACEw/s1600/20161207_174552%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hwuaaHY3jZU/WI4fwSW0a-I/AAAAAAAAFVI/KzHAcLlBEYkKi5duZJ4BVESTZp2fUa7qACEw/s400/20161207_174552%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My nan and Beth. She would not be pleased to see this photo that Alex <br />
secretly took of her in December, as she had a phobia of being photographed.<br />
Still, I think she looks pretty great for 93 and I'm so glad to have this picture.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">
Now, back in London, we have started preparing for the job hunt. LinkedIn profiles and CVs updated, we have decided that whoever gets the best contract can work and the other will stay at home and look after Beth. To be perfectly honest, I'd be happy doing either. I love writing code and would relish the chance to get back at it in a full time role, but I'm equally happy spending time with this fascinating little person we've created, who is changing so much day by day. Thankfully, Alex feels exactly the same and so it's really nice to know that, for the next few months, we will both be enjoying ourselves whichever way it goes. The plan has changed, as usual, but the aim is the same: enjoy life and be happy.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lXZZhQ0EIEM/WI4f4rYk45I/AAAAAAAAFVQ/T8Q_-E6Xc9UPTPKO2g_hbN5wnDgLejvBwCEw/s1600/20170124_223757--158079129%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lXZZhQ0EIEM/WI4f4rYk45I/AAAAAAAAFVQ/T8Q_-E6Xc9UPTPKO2g_hbN5wnDgLejvBwCEw/s400/20170124_223757--158079129%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back in London with the Mitchells...<br />
Uh oh, watch out Bertie - there's a new beast in town!</td></tr>
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Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06821472236408880197noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1229588946568695315.post-56452962074817025552017-01-15T21:28:00.000+00:002018-10-06T21:32:27.533+01:00Up The Hamble Without A Rudder <div dir="ltr">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Last time we wrote anything about our boat, we were out in Portugal with Seahorse, starting work on the refit before going back to London for the birth of our first child. The bulk of the work we did was in the engine bay, in preparation for installing our brand new engine. It was filthy work, grinding the rusted steel back to bare metal, welding up any holes and then painting on primer. We were very happy with the quality of the work we had done, but realised that we had months (if not years) of work ahead of us, given our perfectionist tendencies and work rate. Having not even completed the engine bay or installed the new engine, we drove Reg (our Rover 75) back to London.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1aMegAqHZKQ/WGP1EQkHTeI/AAAAAAAAEjo/vixJrXnAGDwitqbW-Nt4JwJiIENjlCbtgCLcB/s1600/seahorse_engine_bay_work.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1aMegAqHZKQ/WGP1EQkHTeI/AAAAAAAAEjo/vixJrXnAGDwitqbW-Nt4JwJiIENjlCbtgCLcB/s640/seahorse_engine_bay_work.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Work on Seahorse's engine bay was slow and filthy, and was only the tip of the iceberg.</td></tr>
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A couple of weeks into life with our daughter Beth around, we came to the realisation that most people around us had probably already known for months; it was going to be completely impractical to attempt the major refit on Seahorse in a boatyard with a baby. Sure, it would be possible, if we took it in turns to work on our own down the yard whilst the other person looked after Beth elsewhere, but that didn't appeal to us at all. Neither of us wanted to miss out on any of this precious time with our new daughter, and we certainly didn't want to be without a proper home for all that time. We wanted Beth to grow up on a boat right from the word go, and a functional one at that. I began my search for a replacement for Seahorse, and we resigned ourselves to losing money in this exchange, as it would be difficult to find a buyer willing to undertake such a large project, let alone one willing to pay good money for the challenge.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We were determined that Beth should grow up on a boat,<br />
hence us renting the yacht Anna-Maria whilst back in London for her birth.</td></tr>
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With Beth one month old, and my new boat research in full swing, we went down to the south coast for the weekend to visit a few groups of good friends down there. One couple happened to be with their boat in a yard in Bursledon on the River Hamble, doing a refit themselves, so we were pleased to get the chance to pop in on them for a few hours. Whilst Alex was arranging this visit, he mentioned the fact that we were now looking for a new boat and our friend Warren excitedly mentioned that he thought that the perfect boat for us was moored astern of them at the yard. It was, apparently, a 40ft ferro-cement ketch ready for sea with just a bit of sprucing up to do beforehand. Now, 40ft was much larger than we were planning on getting - my searches were for up to 37ft, and we were also looking for steel. We had found plenty available in the Netherlands, but hadn't organised any viewings at that stage. So, with nothing to lose, we agreed to view this yacht out of interest, whilst we were in the area.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U4c2nd0i9Qc/WGP08PpXvoI/AAAAAAAAEjs/9En6CZF-xDgAeAtTFbHrtUV89x1e-KWcACEw/s1600/DSC_0068%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U4c2nd0i9Qc/WGP08PpXvoI/AAAAAAAAEjs/9En6CZF-xDgAeAtTFbHrtUV89x1e-KWcACEw/s400/DSC_0068%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We were pleased to have found such a sturdy yacht that we could move<br />
straight onto and was "ready to go" sailing - it felt like fate!</td></tr>
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Over the next couple of days prior to our visit, this yacht grew from 40ft to 42ft in email communications, then upon arrival we discovered she was actually 45ft. Warren had not wanted to disclose this fact beforehand, as he knew that we would not be willing to view a boat so big. We laughed at how well he knew us, as this was definitely the case - we would never have considered such a large vessel. Anyhow, now we were there, she looked very nice from the pontoon and so Warren arranged for the owner to come and show us around below decks. She was very well equipped, incredibly spacious and Alex was immediately taken with her stowage capacity, especially her 1000 litre water tank and 300 gallon diesel tank. We liked her, and although we were unsure of owning a ferro-cement hull, she had been built by an employee of Camper and Nicholsons (a well-respected boat builders) to a very high standard. We negotiated what we thought was a fair price with the owner, on the one condition that he got the engine working prior to sale. He had tried to start it for us, boasting that it started first time, every time, which of course it then didn't. We didn't really mind, as Alex suspected the solenoid contacts had corroded (the boat hadn't moved since at least last year) and would just need a clean. We could tell that the owner was a real gentleman and would be true to his word and, of course, we had Warren's recommendation that the boat was sound. The deal was done, and we left Bursledon rather excited about our spur-of-the-moment purchase.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HSdriYu9YYA/WGP562bZMoI/AAAAAAAAEj4/sqDW5RRs_yEN24tY1HHwaP4awrld8sEDQCLcB/s1600/IMG-20160821-WA0012%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HSdriYu9YYA/WGP562bZMoI/AAAAAAAAEj4/sqDW5RRs_yEN24tY1HHwaP4awrld8sEDQCLcB/s400/IMG-20160821-WA0012%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex's birthday meal on the new boat, with his family. At this point,<br />
we were blissfully unaware of the work that lay ahead of us!</td></tr>
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We had plans over the following few weeks to visit friends and family with Beth, so it was almost a month before we returned to our new home. We loaded a hire car with our worldly belongings (well, the small amount that existed with us in the UK, that is) and headed excitedly down to Bursledon, via the owner's house near Andover, where we had a spot of lunch, transferred the remaining funds for the boat and collected bits and bobs that had been in his garage (such as varnished grab rails, sails, cushions, etc). Now in mid-August, the weather was warm and we were keen to remove the tarpaulins that had been covering the cabin tops, to open the hatches and let in the summer sunshine. Everything was peachy. Until the next night, when it rained. It soon became apparent that this boat was not at all watertight, and so I used every available rag, teatowel and bowl to catch drips and soak up puddles. I covered our duvet with a bin bag and a towel, to prevent the leaking hatch above our bunk from completely soaking our bedding. As you can imagine, this put a bit of a damper on our high spirits.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-r3Fk4qLu9nQ/WGPu7EOFJtI/AAAAAAAAEjE/MU0XuYiDkMwjcG2gYfpZP3f-GPNX7LPcACEw/s1600/sunbow_aft%2Bcabin_rot.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-r3Fk4qLu9nQ/WGPu7EOFJtI/AAAAAAAAEjE/MU0XuYiDkMwjcG2gYfpZP3f-GPNX7LPcACEw/s640/sunbow_aft%2Bcabin_rot.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As much as I like mushrooms, I didn't fancy cultivating them in our aft cabin.<br />
The sides were so rotten in some places that Alex was easily able to poke a screwdriver through 30mm of marine ply!</td></tr>
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The next morning we wrung out towels, emptied bowls and properly inspected the cabin tops and hatches. We weren't so concerned with leaks from around hatches and portholes - this can be expected over time, and is usually fairly easily rectified by removing, resealing and reseating the leaking object. When we first moved onto Firebird, she had plenty of leaks from poorly sealed portholes and deck fittings, but once fixed we had a dry boat for the remaining years that we owned her. What concerned us more was the realisation that we had large sections of rot in parts of the cabin tops. Whilst the hull and decks were made of ferro-cement, the cabin tops were made from marine ply and these, on closer inspection, were in a bad way. This was a big blow for us, as we began to realise that we did not, in fact, have a boat that was ready to put to sea, but rather one that needed a fairly hefty amount of work in order to even be habitable.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rvfkz5ffE1w/WGP09on95-I/AAAAAAAAEjs/b3E0XnLbyMMPWspBOP6xzJ3Nfj_OD6GAACEw/s1600/IMG-20160915-WA0001%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rvfkz5ffE1w/WGP09on95-I/AAAAAAAAEjs/b3E0XnLbyMMPWspBOP6xzJ3Nfj_OD6GAACEw/s400/IMG-20160915-WA0001%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All our possessions, boxed up and removed from Seahorse, ready for shipping<br />
back to the UK. Sadly, this is all now in storage, costing us £65 a month!</td></tr>
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By now, we had already booked flights to Portugal to pack up our belongings from Seahorse to ship back to the UK and attempt to sell the old girl, so there was little more we could do than put the tarpaulins back up and hope that they held the worst of the weather out for the month we were to be away. Packing up Seahorse was not an easy task, especially in the stifling Algarvian heat, but I enjoyed that month immensely. I think this was partly due to knowing that difficult times lay ahead on our return to our new boat, which made every worry-free second away from it even sweeter. We successfully loaded all our possessions onto a single pallet, and then tidied Seahorse as best we could in order to sell. We advertised her at the price of her brand new Beta engine, and hoped that someone would be happy to pay for an engine and get a boat for free. We had lots of interest and viewings from Portuguese buyers whilst we were there in Lagos, but eventually it was a lovely English chap who took her off our hands shortly after our return to London. It was a relief to have found a new owner for Seahorse, especially one who was planning to restore her and make her his home. Although, I have since found myself wondering on many an occasion whether we should have just kept her, saved ourselves the best part of 20 grand and at least had the pleasure of a refit in the warm Portuguese climate.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beth and I were always on hand, to provide cups of tea, crisps, and ensure materials arrived on time.<br />
Mike and Alex did the bulk of the hard work, starting early and finishing late in a race against the weather.</td></tr>
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Early October, we found ourselves heading back down to Bursledon, ready to start work on the new boat. We asked our friend Mike if he fancied expanding his business and opening a marine division to help us with the aft cabin top. Thank goodness he agreed, as without his help I think we'd still be trying to remove the old cabin top. Mike came down for a week and worked with Alex on removing the entire aft cabin top, replacing it with sheets of brand new marine plywood. Beth and I took on the project management, ordering materials just in time for the boys to use them, and ensured they were well watered and fed. To be honest, I think Beth could have pulled her weight a bit more in all this... I often felt like I was carrying her, but luckily she is super cute so can get away with being pretty much useless at helping out. One week turned into four, as we were hit with delays due to bad weather (not so much rain but cold weather preventing materials from curing and drying properly) and we were eternally grateful to Mike and his family that he was able to spend the time away from home, helping us out.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yXsJNcaWCss/WGPp9AmrYGI/AAAAAAAAEis/yUFuxvL4zt0fajDC3wvFTk8O6PpbOQXhgCLcB/s1600/sunbow_aft%2Bcabin_complete.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="185" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yXsJNcaWCss/WGPp9AmrYGI/AAAAAAAAEis/yUFuxvL4zt0fajDC3wvFTk8O6PpbOQXhgCLcB/s640/sunbow_aft%2Bcabin_complete.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I managed to take a break from project management to help install the new portholes.<br />
The finished aft cabin top looks brilliant and, most importantly, doesn't leak.</td></tr>
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During that period, we had to take the boat out of the water to clean and repaint the hull ready for our trip to France. Oh, sorry, did I forget to mention that we had invited Alex's family to spend Christmas on the boat with us in France? Ah, how blissfully unaware we were of our situation back in the summer... Now in mid-November, we still felt like we had a fighting chance of getting over there in time - we just needed to antifoul, finish the aft cabin, restep the mizzen mast (which was removed to facilitate the aft cabin refit) and get the rigging and sails ready. Simples. Until, that is, we found more issues with the boat. The first was the gearbox. It turned out that, whilst the previous owner had been true to his word and got the engine running prior to our purchase, nobody had thought to see if it would go in and out of gear, and it wouldn't. Never mind, we thought - hopefully a simple problem to fix when we get chance... Perhaps a seal or something. We paid the yard to tow us to the cradle, and came out of the water to discover another problem. The existing paint system had completely failed and was now trapping water against the hull. Rather than just a new coat of antifouling, we now needed to strip all the paint back to the concrete, which meant an extra week out of the water and a large bill for expensive marine paint. After a few gruelling days cleaning the hull, Alex stumbles upon the next big issue - the rudder is broken and useless. The metal stock had corroded right through, and turning the wheel no longer equated to moving the rudder. The Channel crossing was starting to slip away from us. A quote from the boatyard of £4000 to fix the rudder and a probable lead time of two months left us no option but to attempt to build one for ourselves. We removed the old one prior to putting the boat back in the water, and took it to my parents' garage in Somerset, which they kindly agreed to let us use as a workshop in which to build our replacement rudder.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NMVcVmlp7T4/WGPp8NI-zuI/AAAAAAAAEiw/E4XPgu7qeoka-kYUaQzM6XsmexxjVKhoACEw/s1600/sunbow_out_of_water.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="185" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NMVcVmlp7T4/WGPp8NI-zuI/AAAAAAAAEiw/E4XPgu7qeoka-kYUaQzM6XsmexxjVKhoACEw/s640/sunbow_out_of_water.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mike and Alex continued working hard on the boat whilst she was out of the water.<br />
Alex had to cut the old rudder off before she went back into the water, to use as a template for making a new one.</td></tr>
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And so, as it stands, we are stuck on a leaky (we have yet to fix the leaks in the forward cabin), oversized boat on the most expensive stretch of water in the UK, unable to move to a cheaper mooring due to the fact that, amongst other things, we have no rudder. Note to self: never buy a boat without taking it out for a sail, prior to parting with any hard-earned cash.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IikKCHxOq74/WF6wPjGxU_I/AAAAAAAAEcU/1WxcLRzIbPk0ViErQiTkfiOWP0HEbUVsQCLcB/s1600/IMG-20161209-WA0005%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IikKCHxOq74/WF6wPjGxU_I/AAAAAAAAEcU/1WxcLRzIbPk0ViErQiTkfiOWP0HEbUVsQCLcB/s400/IMG-20161209-WA0005%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex enjoys the luxury of a makeshift workshop in my parents' garage,<br />
whilst welding the stainless frame for our new rudder</td></tr>
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Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06821472236408880197noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1229588946568695315.post-87159993669432839802016-12-22T22:06:00.000+00:002016-12-22T22:06:59.467+00:00The Danger of Priority Lanes<div style="text-align: justify;">
This post is intended to fill the gaping hole in the travel advice issued by the UK government to those citizens visiting Portugal:<br />
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<b>People of Britain, avoid the priority lane in Portuguese supermarkets.</b></div>
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<b>At all costs.</b></div>
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A recent change in law makes it compulsory for Portuguese supermarkets to designate one of their checkout lanes as priority. Elderly, disabled, pregnant or people with young children can cruise straight to the front of this queue, ahead of any other shoppers, to be on their way with the minimum amount of inconvenience.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jmvDYQ2kMrU/WFxKIc0MVsI/AAAAAAAAEes/rHgb6-g6-Gw22ScNFs03SadQmifVn0ruACLcB/s1600/20161222_143527.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jmvDYQ2kMrU/WFxKIc0MVsI/AAAAAAAAEes/rHgb6-g6-Gw22ScNFs03SadQmifVn0ruACLcB/s400/20161222_143527.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I didn't take a photo in Portugal, but it turns out they have these lanes in France as well</td></tr>
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"Great", I hear you say. "Well done Portugal for pushing forwards to help those less able". Well just hold your horses there, sir or madam, because until you've tried it, you don't realise what a truly horrible system this is for those poor Brits who find themselves entangled within its sticky web.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GYe4dEcidVI/WFxKH3sVpCI/AAAAAAAAEeg/0DLLOFsULAM33vKrRQuXDHHz-WxnotXYwCEw/s1600/20160928_190528.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GYe4dEcidVI/WFxKH3sVpCI/AAAAAAAAEeg/0DLLOFsULAM33vKrRQuXDHHz-WxnotXYwCEw/s320/20160928_190528.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In-arms, on a walk</td></tr>
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Our involvement with this system comes from having baby Beth, who we take everywhere with us in our arms or, more usually, worn in a baby carrier. We won't touch on the pros and cons of this approach, but it does mean that we don't have a buggy to get in the way and are just as mobile as ever when wearing her.<br />
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We didn't realise that the priority system existed to begin with, but inadvertently joined the priority queue, which can be used by anyone. It's not like a 'basket only' queue, it's just that if a 'priority' person turns up, they get to join right at the front.<br />
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When we joined the priority queue, not knowing anything about the system, we joined the back of the queue as usual. I was carrying Beth in my arms and she was squirming about a bit as she was getting tired and hungry. Anyway, it was business as usual for us until a Portuguese gentleman came to join the queue with his two kids. He told us that we could move to the front of the queue, except that we didn't initially understand what he was saying. After a bit of gesticulating at the priority sign hanging from the ceiling and pointing at Beth, we understood what he meant. He kept telling us that we must go to the front. We were somewhat taken aback and, not being accustomed to queue jumping, told him that we were OK to wait and that he could go ahead, which is what he did with his youngsters in tow.<br />
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That experience was all a <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qEtdAY4Eszo/WFxKHfy5c3I/AAAAAAAAEeU/84G85h4T9vkXL4vnu1zcSJBZoIHI92egQCEw/s1600/20160911_202602.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qEtdAY4Eszo/WFxKHfy5c3I/AAAAAAAAEeU/84G85h4T9vkXL4vnu1zcSJBZoIHI92egQCEw/s320/20160911_202602.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Writing a blog post while Beth sleeps</td></tr>
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bit awkward, so the next time we visited the supermarket, we made sure to join one of the normal, non-priority queues. We didn't mind queuing, especially as Beth was in a carrier on my front this time, fast asleep, so with 4 free hands between us we considered ourselves less of a priority than even able bodied shoppers doing the weekly shop on their own. Moreover, as upstanding British citizens abroad, we were acting as ambassadors to the Empire. As such, we felt obliged to queue to the best of our ability at every opportunity offered, in an attempt to educate, by example, our European brothers and sisters on the finer points of queuing etiquette. Despite what I'm sure are their best intentions, they just don't quite manage to always get it right.<br />
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The priority system wouldn't let us slip through the checkout process this easily, however. The sharp-eyed, diligent cashier saw us join the back of his queue so he stopped serving the current customer and stood up so that he could call to us to leave his queue and go and use the priority lane.<br />
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This took us totally by surprise. We thought we had got it all figured out this time so with only a short walk to the priority checkout in which to think, I panicked and, dumping my share of the shopping in Kate's arms, told her that I would just walk round the front with Beth and she could join the queue as a non-priority customer.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RmKz91za3Bs/WFxKHWz_W5I/AAAAAAAAEec/TDsWtgRowtA_WMdMqO3Q8Lb7Rl1nBFxgACEw/s1600/20160919_170355.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RmKz91za3Bs/WFxKHWz_W5I/AAAAAAAAEec/TDsWtgRowtA_WMdMqO3Q8Lb7Rl1nBFxgACEw/s400/20160919_170355.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Playing crazy golf together. She loved this</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tJqdibnZAac/WFxKHdtPnhI/AAAAAAAAEeY/zTxPNH8zy0UBba67n912GEWaBUNMQaaVgCEw/s1600/20160914_103422.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tJqdibnZAac/WFxKHdtPnhI/AAAAAAAAEeY/zTxPNH8zy0UBba67n912GEWaBUNMQaaVgCEw/s400/20160914_103422.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Having a cosy sleep on Mummy</td></tr>
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For our next trip to the supermarket, we knew that we didn't have any choice but to embrace the priority system, if for no other reason than as a cultural experience. When in Rome and all that.<br />
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This time, we were able to mentally prepare for the queue jump ahead of us and to look up what to say when we pushed in at the front like heathen barbarians, I mean, as the law stipulated that we should.<br />
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I've got to say that what happened next was one of the most cringe-worthy experiences of our lives. We were loaded up with a ton of shopping this time. Beth was again sleeping soundly in a carrier, not causing us any bother whatsoever, the supermarket was heaving with the after-work crowd with everyone busy and grumpy, just trying to get home after a hard day at work. All checkout lanes had long queues.<br />
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Undeterred, as I had rehearsed in my head, we shoved our way confidently to the front, which wasn't easy as the lane was quite narrow, I uttered my memorised "Can we go in front because we have a baby" line in my best Portuguese and then we started to put items from our bulging basket onto the conveyor.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6v9Ytd4lsBU/WFxKITmMN0I/AAAAAAAAEew/A9FCi_6KAn0R01-dTZ9yDhgsBJYXnH2dACEw/s1600/SAM_0650.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6v9Ytd4lsBU/WFxKITmMN0I/AAAAAAAAEew/A9FCi_6KAn0R01-dTZ9yDhgsBJYXnH2dACEw/s320/SAM_0650.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Going sailing, but missing it while sleeping</td></tr>
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This is where we found the first logistical issue with the system. Of course, by the time you get to the front of the checkout, the conveyor belt is already full of everyone else's shopping. As we deposited our shopping down, the people who already had stuff on the belt had to start shuffling theirs backwards to make room as we shoved more and more on at the front. Once we had emptied our over-sized basket (one of the deep ones with wheels and a long plastic handle, which can hold as much as a small trolley), I was then faced with the second logistical issue with the priority queue: I had to get my basket back to the stacking location at the start of the conveyor belt. I imagine that had I have been a doddery senior citizen in true need of prioritisation, people might have offered to pass the basket back for me, but being the annoying-guy-that-just-delayed-everyone-from-going-home-after-work, who clearly didn't need any help shopping, everyone averted their gaze and I had to push back through the narrow queue to put it back myself.<br />
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Had this have been happening somewhere in the UK, I think this would have been the point when resigned annoyance would have given way to outright fury and the bravest amongst the crowd would have been forced to quietly tut in order to let me know how discontented everyone had become. However, it seems that even this part of queueing etiquette hasn't made it all the way down to the south-west corner of Europe yet and so the waiting customers held their tongues and just looked on with steely gazes. I felt that I should at least teach them the tut, seeing as I had given them ample reason to use it, but I didn't feel that I could tut myself as that might have delivered a confused message. In my line of work, clarity is king, so I decided to forgo the self-tut and focus instead on pushing my way past the queue for the third time, to rejoin Kate at the front.<br />
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Once there, we just had to wait for the customer that was halfway through being served when we started this ordeal to pay and pack and then we could be on our way.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9mucJGsUVd8/WFxKINutEEI/AAAAAAAAEe4/CPgkYCBcX_8mlyRXcXQntm9dkgGw_3UFgCEw/s1600/20161001_143153.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9mucJGsUVd8/WFxKINutEEI/AAAAAAAAEe4/CPgkYCBcX_8mlyRXcXQntm9dkgGw_3UFgCEw/s640/20161001_143153.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Facing forwards on a walk in London</td></tr>
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Our queue jumping complete, I could start to relax a bit. Looking around, I noticed that the man directly behind us was returning my friendly smile with a much more annoyed expression that the rest of the mildly annoyed people in the line. A glance down at the conveyor belt helped me understand why. He only had a couple of measly items that he needed to pay for and was now held up behind our mountain of food. Had I not been such a novice at using the priority system, I would have noticed this when we turned up and pushed in <i>behind</i> him, but I feel that this is only partly my fault. You can't just go ahead and legalise queue jumping, without supplying leaflets explaining how to do so courteously, without expecting people to get it wrong, so I think that the angry man should have directed his inner rage towards the Portuguese government instead of me.<br />
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This cautionary tale will hopefully help others out there to avoid, at all costs, the priority checkout lane in Portuguese supermarkets. Use them at your peril.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wu9Srfkd26E/WFxKIWhDXBI/AAAAAAAAEe0/DuXU8Rn_NO81fgzGYAJU76TtkU1IU5mHQCEw/s1600/DSC_0026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wu9Srfkd26E/WFxKIWhDXBI/AAAAAAAAEe0/DuXU8Rn_NO81fgzGYAJU76TtkU1IU5mHQCEw/s640/DSC_0026.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just because it's nearly Christmas, here is a Christmas baby</td></tr>
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Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10685263692271779240noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1229588946568695315.post-91804281300217112552016-09-25T23:55:00.001+01:002016-09-26T00:30:40.906+01:00How not to recover a dropped spanner<div style="text-align: justify;">
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About a year ago, I dropped a spanner down a little gap in the engine bay that I couldn't fit my hands into. Kate and I spent some time trying to find a solution to retrieve it, but in the end decided that the only way it could be done would be with a very small hand and a thin arm. Around the same time, we had been thinking that life would be better if we had to do fewer night watches. We looked at each other and a lightbulb came on between us. What we needed was a very small crew member.</div>
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When we want something, it can usually be found by trawling eBay, Gumtree or Amazon. No small crew members were to be found there, however, so we turned to researching on Google. This is where we found our true answer: we needed a baby.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2JR6g6LloYI/V-hFpw-woTI/AAAAAAAAEWM/k0nNUPFBE6wS5PZ3_SGl475PACUsmbB9ACLcB/s1600/DSC_0146--1711375768.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="568" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2JR6g6LloYI/V-hFpw-woTI/AAAAAAAAEWM/k0nNUPFBE6wS5PZ3_SGl475PACUsmbB9ACLcB/s640/DSC_0146--1711375768.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kate and my 6 month photos. Kate was clearly going to win this race</td></tr>
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After ordering, I checked the estimated delivery date for the baby and discovered that it was atrociously far in the future (like, 9 months wtf?). If it had have been coming from Amazon, I would have signed up for Prime membership to speed things up, but Kate explained that you can't do that with babies so I stuck it out because they don't make spanners like that anymore and I really wanted to get mine back.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PxOeCqPv5SI/V-hGuis2Y-I/AAAAAAAAEWQ/hbKbL7RYitwjWt1brU97lMIC2-VWeQBsQCLcB/s1600/DSC_0162--2141716454.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PxOeCqPv5SI/V-hGuis2Y-I/AAAAAAAAEWQ/hbKbL7RYitwjWt1brU97lMIC2-VWeQBsQCLcB/s320/DSC_0162--2141716454.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alien visitors slowed our work on Seahorse for the day </td></tr>
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After sailing from Lanzarote to the boatyard in Portugal, we were working on getting Seahorse ready to be our family home. While we did that, Kate was also working on making the family. Just before the point beyond which airlines won’t let pregnant women fly, we returned to the UK and moved onto a nice ketch in South Dock marina that Kate found for us to rent on Gumtree. At this point, our pregnant friends at work were just about to take their maternity leave. I had other plans for Kate, though, so she started her “maternity work”. My old manager had need for Kate’s skills for a month and seeing as we were back in London anyway, it seemed silly not to take the opportunity. During this time I didn’t rest on my laurels, I trained hard for my role as stay at home dad by, well, staying at home.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uhx3_yx5yAA/V-hHKlohgVI/AAAAAAAAEWY/SLgFwcQRDFw-7nMeCkyzeO4UpzeeHf6OQCLcB/s1600/20160327_172221--1055535859.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uhx3_yx5yAA/V-hHKlohgVI/AAAAAAAAEWY/SLgFwcQRDFw-7nMeCkyzeO4UpzeeHf6OQCLcB/s400/20160327_172221--1055535859.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"You can't do that in your condition"<br />
Kate ripping out the old galley on Seahorse.<br />
She was active throughout pregnancy</td></tr>
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Fast forward to now and we've had the baby, Beth, for three months and she's completely useless. I showed her the spanner that she needs to retrieve and all she did was dribble down the hole, so it will probably go rusty now. On top of this, she didn't come with an instruction manual. I mean, not even a PDF one written in dodgy English. I solved that problem through observation. It turns out that Beth is just like me: if she gets hungry or tired, she gets grumpy. Once I realised that, things weren’t so hard. Considering how adorable she is, I don't mind that she's actually the worst crew member that I've ever seen. Even though she’s more interested in sucking stuff than tying bowlines right now, I'm sure that one day I will have trained her enough to take a night watch.</div>
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The purpose of this blog post is twofold, the first being to introduce Beth to the Great Adventure. Job done. The second was to say how well the birth went. That will probably sound arrogant, but it’s not intended to be. Our plan was to have as natural a birth as possible and we had already started reading around this subject when we were lucky enough to meet one of the best midwives ever! She’s called Nicole and you’ll know if you meet her from her accent which is hard to place. English people think she sounds Australian and Australian people think she sounds English. She was completely on our wavelength and helped guide us down the path to the birth that we wanted.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j7SajGCRlIA/V-hImP7ujeI/AAAAAAAAEWc/H7HRbuYDst0HEcz_ST82LqRuwuv0F6QMQCLcB/s1600/20160611_122636--214475807.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j7SajGCRlIA/V-hImP7ujeI/AAAAAAAAEWc/H7HRbuYDst0HEcz_ST82LqRuwuv0F6QMQCLcB/s400/20160611_122636--214475807.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kate listening to her hypnobirthing CD. I had been exercising next to her</td></tr>
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Amongst other things, Nicole recommended a film called Orgasmic Birth: The Best-Kept Secret. One of the people in this film urged us to share our positive birth story. This is to try and counter the negativity surrounding birth and to let people know that it doesn’t need to be as bad as you probably think it will be. All you seem to hear when you’re pregnant (or are with your partner who is) are people’s horror stories of how terrible giving birth is. Every birth I see on screen involves a woman screaming out in pain as though she’s having her leg amputated without anaesthesia. This doesn’t reflect the whole truth and nothing like that happened while Kate was in labour. I wonder if people are less inclined to share their positive stories for fear of belittling others’ experiences, or because it does kind of feel like boasting, but it isn’t, it’s just recognising that a different outcome is indeed possible and which, with the right preparation, can be yours too.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In for a checkup<br />
There's a joke to be made here about stool samples</td></tr>
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Kate started having tiny contractions around 13:00, which we kept between us - there didn’t seem any point getting people excited in case it was a false start. We were out and about and on our way to my parents’ for lunch, where we ended up spending most of the afternoon. We returned to the boat via the fish and chip shop and ate while watching something on the laptop. After dinner, we went for a leisurely walk along the Thames. By now the contractions had grown considerably in intensity and it was easier for Kate to manage them while standing. We went back to the boat to get our labour bags which we had packed from lists from the NHS and elsewhere. Whoever compiled those lists was something of a joker. We ended up with three bags - one for me, one for Kate and one for the baby. We could have easily made do with just one bag which would have made our lives after the birth much easier. Actually, it would have made just my life easier because I was the muggins who had to carry all three bags like a packhorse. Maybe this was my comeuppance for sending Kate off on her maternity work. Who, for example, thought that I would need to take a book? Does that person even know what labour is? I diligently packed my Kindle with thoughts of lounging around in a comfy chair while we leisurely waited for the baby to come out. Let’s just say that it didn’t happen like that and amongst other things, you do not need to take a book in your labour bag!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Time to turn that bump inside out<br />
This was taken on our way out to get the taxi</td></tr>
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We requested an Uber (taxi) just after midnight and had been assessed and put in the midwifery led suite by 01:00. Just after 06:00, we got to meet our little girl. Kate had done the whole thing using just her mind and her body. She didn’t take any form of medication whatsoever. She was exhausted and it was definitely not an easy thing to do, but neither was it that terrible. Kate knew that she could do it and had trained herself to truly believe this. Her body took care of the rest, including her pain management. Because she was relaxed, confident, in the right environment and most importantly, not scared, all the right hormones could control the process as they are meant to do.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g7eMFLCrSVE/V-hMG2jTEAI/AAAAAAAAEXA/KJ2yRZId3WwL3FmF_jr3LVNrmNVsPOrLQCLcB/s1600/20160615_075248-1580619918.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g7eMFLCrSVE/V-hMG2jTEAI/AAAAAAAAEXA/KJ2yRZId3WwL3FmF_jr3LVNrmNVsPOrLQCLcB/s640/20160615_075248-1580619918.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fresh out of the oven. Beth was actually born on the floor (on a mat) but we soon moved onto this comfy bed</td></tr>
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I don’t deny that the fact that a man writing about how “easy” giving birth can be is ludicrous, but I do promise you that Kate has read, edited and given this post her full endorsement. I was there with her throughout the experience and we have talked about it from each others’ points of views afterwards so although I didn’t actually push a watermelon through the eye of a needle myself, I’m not making things up.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KzqTQQmdbGo/V-hOadilljI/AAAAAAAAEXU/VNSigR7QrhA_l2OxlGYt9EGCkOYi9HSywCLcB/s1600/20160615_104209-1181606041.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KzqTQQmdbGo/V-hOadilljI/AAAAAAAAEXU/VNSigR7QrhA_l2OxlGYt9EGCkOYi9HSywCLcB/s320/20160615_104209-1181606041.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is where the magic happened. The bed was folded up<br />
until after the birth</td></tr>
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We got delayed leaving hospital because there was a change of shift at 08:00 and our paperwork took ages to come through. The papers we did get were muddled up but we didn’t realise this until we went to register Beth a few weeks later. Luckily the registrar noticed that we were about to register someone else’s baby! We didn’t mind staying in hospital while we waited, though, because we had our amazing new baby and we spent the time lounging on a nice big bed together enjoying being a family.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">A very proud father</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">This tranquility didn't last and that towel</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">has never been the same since</span></td></tr>
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<br /></div>
<div class="p3">
I felt honoured during this time when Beth chose me as the canvas for her first work of art. She covered me and an NHS towel in meconium (a baby’s first type of poo). Man, that stuff is sticky! It felt like I had been involved in an industrial accident at a treacle factory. Trying to get it off both me and Beth was something of a struggle. More unnecessary items came out of the labour bag in the form of olive oil and cotton wool, which is supposedly good for removing meconium. It wasn’t. After attempting a cleanup using those items, neither Beth nor I were any closer to being clean but now she was oiled up and as slippery as a wet bar of soap, which hindered further cleaning operations. The only thing for it was to run her under the tap and make an even bigger mess of the NHS towel to rub it all off. Luckily I didn't have to get either of our two towels dirty, which remained untouched in our bags thanks to that blasted packing list.</div>
<div class="p4">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--1GrJ9XFur4/V-hQOAhN0hI/AAAAAAAAEXk/JTJ3vSSU_k4u_s6MITeNAvZ9l3eLIWYHgCLcB/s1600/20160612_220048-1462844254.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--1GrJ9XFur4/V-hQOAhN0hI/AAAAAAAAEXk/JTJ3vSSU_k4u_s6MITeNAvZ9l3eLIWYHgCLcB/s200/20160612_220048-1462844254.jpg" width="112" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pineapples don't<br />
induce labour but fish<br />
and chips does</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="p3">
By the time that was done and we had eaten a spot of hard-won breakfast, our paperwork was back and we were allowed to leave. The problem with the breakfast was that when I enquired if we were going to get any food, it turned out that we had been forgotten from the breakfast round. Unbelievably, the midwifery-led suite doesn’t get much use as most ladies elect to go on the ward to give birth, so the caterers weren’t used to checking in on that room. The midwife cheerily told me to go to the kitchen myself and tell them what we would like. So off I trotted, which involved leaving the midwifery-led suite, walking to the other side of the floor and going into the labour ward. I strolled in and casually asked where the kitchen was. It was at this point that I was subjected to an interrogation that the KGB would probably have felt was harsh. The staff on the ward had mistaken me for a baby snatcher. It took me a while to explain that stealing a baby would be a really bad idea for me because I already had my hands full with our own one and I didn’t want to have to deal with any more meconium than was necessary.</div>
<div class="p3">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6O_FrJGzlr8/V-hPI0G86DI/AAAAAAAAEXY/k2qHwxk03bcjenoaHlqHLNIKwhwAVpDJQCLcB/s1600/20160615_104224-2119426228.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6O_FrJGzlr8/V-hPI0G86DI/AAAAAAAAEXY/k2qHwxk03bcjenoaHlqHLNIKwhwAVpDJQCLcB/s400/20160615_104224-2119426228.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wrapped up and ready to go<br />
This was the departing shot as we left<br />
the hospital</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="p3">
It was 10:45 by the time we could leave and we headed out to catch the train home. For some reason, Kate had chosen that day to practise her John Wayne walk. Although a bit slower than usual, she managed just fine. She was clearly in discomfort, but she’s not one to make a fuss. I didn’t mind the slower pace because I was struggling to carry the labour bags. I took less stuff with me when I went to live in Canada for a year! Once off the train, a short bus ride got us back to the marina where we could begin the rest of our lives.</div>
<div class="p4">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ztEpAm9KPwk/V-hJkGEPKII/AAAAAAAAEWg/uApH-JuFT7kR6V63c90DCqmCV24O5suzwCLcB/s1600/20160615_182756-1379626000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ztEpAm9KPwk/V-hJkGEPKII/AAAAAAAAEWg/uApH-JuFT7kR6V63c90DCqmCV24O5suzwCLcB/s640/20160615_182756-1379626000.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My lovely ladies back home and resting up after their big night</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="p4">
<br /></div>
<div class="p3">
I won’t go into details of how you can prepare for a swift, natural birth with a fast recovery because I imagine that everyone’s journey will be different, but I will list some of the resources that got us there at the end of this post. I fully understand that in some situations, medical intervention is absolutely necessary and a life saver. However, I firmly believe that in the current scheme of things, the vast majority of women are able to give birth without it. Not only that, but the way labour is currently managed in hospitals actually makes the experience slower, more painful and stressful and is usually the reason that intervention is required in the first place. Clearly, medical staff are doing the best they think they can and are giving their utmost to help women through childbirth. The problem is in the way they have been trained to do so in Western society. If we could change to a more natural method of birthing, which is in keeping with what our species has evolved to do over the last 65 million years or so, I think the NHS could save a stack of money and more importantly, women could look forward to experiencing the miracle that is birth rather than fearing it.</div>
<div class="p3">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S2_brJAk6Ns/V-hRQT7-igI/AAAAAAAAEXo/q2ZbsVvqu0YkETCO-mQAoaCiG339sP_YQCLcB/s1600/20160711_193627.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S2_brJAk6Ns/V-hRQT7-igI/AAAAAAAAEXo/q2ZbsVvqu0YkETCO-mQAoaCiG339sP_YQCLcB/s640/20160711_193627.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our temporary home, Anna-Maria, in South Dock Marina<br />
Those semaphone flags we're flying in the picture on the right read "Baby onboard"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="p3">
You can take my opinion or leave it. These are some of the resources, along with our own experience, that shaped it into what it is:</div>
<div class="p1">
</div>
<ul>
<li>Bump: How To Make, Grow and Birth A Baby - <i>Kate Evans</i></li>
<li>Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth - <i>Ina May Gaskin</i></li>
<li>Childbirth and the Evolution of Homo Sapiens - <i>Michel Odent</i></li>
<li>Orgasmic Birth (<a href="http://www.orgasmicbirth.com/"><span class="s2">http://www.orgasmicbirth.com</span></a><span class="s2">) </span>We paid to rent this film from a link on that site - not sure if it's on Netfilx or anything</li>
<li>Natal Hypnotherapy CDs, by Maggie Howell (<a href="http://www.natalhypnotherapy.co.uk/"><span class="s3">http://www.natalhypnotherapy.co.uk/</span></a>)</li>
</ul>
<br /></div>
</div>
Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10685263692271779240noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1229588946568695315.post-40365265826077809672016-03-11T22:16:00.002+00:002016-03-11T22:16:59.257+00:00Road Trip<div style="text-align: justify;">
With Seahorse settled in her new home on the Algarve, Alex and I started thinking about next steps in our plan to refit her. The top priority was our new engine which, since last November, had been sat in Beta Marine's factory in Gloucestershire, waiting for us to give them a delivery address. They must have been wondering why we were delaying them so much, changing our minds from Gran Canaria to Tenerife, and never giving them any concrete shipping instructions. I think our contact, Clive, was quite relieved to get a call from Alex in January telling him that we were now in Portugal and would be ready to take delivery of the engine imminently.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LTwXLdTrkR0/VuMykaTxxUI/AAAAAAAAAno/Q8yzm9RCVW8bJqzWfLMY-MBuxPZMvrH0Q/s1600/20160224_134751%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LTwXLdTrkR0/VuMykaTxxUI/AAAAAAAAAno/Q8yzm9RCVW8bJqzWfLMY-MBuxPZMvrH0Q/s400/20160224_134751%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seahorse, finally out of the water and ready to work on in Sopromar boatyard, Lagos</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
However, as you may have figured out by now, nothing is ever simple when it comes to our plans. As we considered the hundreds of pounds we would be spending out for shipping to Portugal, we began to question why we would pay someone else to do this for us, passing up the opportunity of a perfectly good road trip? I guess our lack of a suitable vehicle may have been one fairly valid reason but, unfazed, we set about the task of looking for a cheap estate car that would be up to the job. We figured it would be useful to have a vehicle in Portugal for a few months as a runabout and for collecting/transporting any supplies we might need, and then we could drive it back to the UK later in the year to resell. Assuming it would make it that far.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fa7S_wDowOk/VuM_eLFKlXI/AAAAAAAAAoc/pnCH-MEKeKYOIonMWWzXkUSL1jfZ3hqiA/s1600/20160201_135346%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fa7S_wDowOk/VuM_eLFKlXI/AAAAAAAAAoc/pnCH-MEKeKYOIonMWWzXkUSL1jfZ3hqiA/s400/20160201_135346%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting excited during the last 30 seconds of an eBay auction!<br />
We were outbid with only 5 seconds to go.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The search began in a number of places; the car auctions, eBay and Gumtree. In the past, I've had great success with the car auctions, having picked up countless bangers from the BCA (British Car Auctions) auction house in Bridgwater. As well as giving you access to lots of cars, it makes for a great day out and is one of the most exciting ways to buy a car - bidding on them really gets your adrenaline going!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TxtttTGIrio/VuMycqJ8_vI/AAAAAAAAAoM/hCjHZwcsLpAwZdNmFSaZmH1h34tPVBJuQ/s1600/20160202_105634%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TxtttTGIrio/VuMycqJ8_vI/AAAAAAAAAoM/hCjHZwcsLpAwZdNmFSaZmH1h34tPVBJuQ/s400/20160202_105634%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BCA Enfield's auction rooms were fun, but not the place to pick up a bargain</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So, off we headed to BCA Enfield, in search of a bargain. Sadly, this was not to be found. I was surprised by the large auction fees, which had definitely increased since I last visited the auctions. For example, buying a car of £50-99 would attract a standard buyer's fee of £61 (well over 50%) plus an additional fee of £26 regardless of the hammer price, just for updating the ownership on the V5C. This would mean that a winning bid of £50 would actually end up costing £137 for a private bidder. What a rip off!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NHqus2CbO94/VuMyowvOdzI/AAAAAAAAAoU/HBnnrr5jnPEPDNoBx8iCSoocTOoqO5qxA/s1600/DSC_0088%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NHqus2CbO94/VuMyowvOdzI/AAAAAAAAAoU/HBnnrr5jnPEPDNoBx8iCSoocTOoqO5qxA/s400/DSC_0088%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reginald - our new Rover 75 Tourer, cleaned and polished post-purchase</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
We had been keeping our eye on numerous vehicles on eBay and Gumtree, and knew that we could get much more for our money than we had been able to at the auction. So, upon leaving the centre in Enflield, we called a chap who had advertised his Rover 75 Tourer on Gumtree, and arranged to view it less than two hours later. We were aware of problems that Rovers can have with their cooling systems, so were very careful to check for signs of head gasket failure and ask pertinent questions about the cooling system. The seller told us that he had experienced problems with the heater blowing hot and cold, but he was obviously not mechanically minded and just needed to get rid of the car. We decided to take the risk, figuring it would be a lot easier working on a stationary car engine than a marine engine at sea, and in paying £275 for a 2002 car with only 66,000 miles on the clock and MOT until the end of May, we were getting quite a bargain.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-s_4_ZlB9wNQ/VuMymG83teI/AAAAAAAAAoU/1pb33TgTfgg62Iou1HTISXHnNTtEd8uGQ/s1600/DSC_0082%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-s_4_ZlB9wNQ/VuMymG83teI/AAAAAAAAAoU/1pb33TgTfgg62Iou1HTISXHnNTtEd8uGQ/s400/DSC_0082%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Working on the cooling system in February would have been <br />
far more enjoyable in a warm garage!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
We christened our new car Reginald, and after experiencing the same hot/cold issues with the heaters, we spent some time flushing and bleeding the cooling system in the hopes of removing any possible airlocks, which seemed to fix the problem. Result! However, a new problem emerged, in that the engine was running too cold, at around 50°C rather than the expected 88°C. This is better than having an engine overheating, but would mean that the engine would be burning through way too much petrol and could result in damage to the engine over a long period of time. So, once again we got our overalls on and the tools out, in order to fit a new thermostat. We were horrified to find that the old thermostat has been rendered useless, through someone cutting out the wax mechanism which regulates water flow based on the temperature. After reassembling and refilling the cooling system, we were quite nervous that perhaps someone had done this to disguise an overheating issue (by never letting the engine get hot enough to overheat) but, thankfully, this was not the case and Reg is now running sweet as a nut.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bw7D2f9Doaw/VuMyeI2521I/AAAAAAAAAoM/370eLXfW2q0SjzFvzrsIxdVYywCwtAzNg/s1600/20160210_120544%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bw7D2f9Doaw/VuMyeI2521I/AAAAAAAAAoM/370eLXfW2q0SjzFvzrsIxdVYywCwtAzNg/s400/20160210_120544%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even to the untrained eye, this thermostat housing looks a right mess... on the right,<br />
if you look carefully, you can see the thermostat is missing its crucial wax mechanism</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
With Reg freshly serviced and ready for the trip ahead, we drove up to Beta's factory in Quedgeley and parked up, ready to slide our engine in the boot. A couple of engineers opened the roller doors ready for access, and gave Reg a very suspicious look... both Alex and I read it as "there's no way the engine is going to fit in the back of that", and we began to doubt our previous certainty that there would be plenty of room for our cargo. Of course, they were absolutely right. Luckily for us, these Beta engineers put their heads together with ours, and less than an hour after our arrival it was in the back of the car. Making it fit had required knocking the feet off the pallet, lifting the engine and cutting grooves in the pallet for it to sit lower down in, disassembling parts of the engine and removing items such as the filler cap and dipstick and, finally, cutting some wood out of the back of the pallet in order for the boot to shut. I think the Beta guys were as glad to see us driving away as we were to be leaving!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PSCUCBGj18E/VuMydA55-II/AAAAAAAAAoM/zRa8uKD0TUYXDSFlnbM3XtLgDwHVGEoEA/s1600/20160208_161555%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PSCUCBGj18E/VuMydA55-II/AAAAAAAAAoM/zRa8uKD0TUYXDSFlnbM3XtLgDwHVGEoEA/s400/20160208_161555%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our new engine, in the entrance to the Beta factory. We wish we'd had time for a tour! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The next stage in our journey was a Brittany overnight ferry, from Portsmouth to Bilbao. In preparation, we headed down to the south coast and caught up with some good friends down there beforehand. I had been keeping my eye on the weather, as a low pressure system was heading towards the UK and some fairly rough weather was forecast, which we were thinking might be quite exciting on the ferry. Sadly, Brittany's conclusion was that it wouldn't make for a comfortable Biscay crossing and, twenty-four hours before our planned departure, the ferry was cancelled. I called immediately to rebook, but the earliest they could fit us in was almost one week later, on a ferry to Santander. Thank goodness we weren't just going on holiday by ferry for a week or two! The delay was a slight inconvenience, as we had to return to my parents' house in Somerset and wait around until the following weekend, but we were glad of the opportunity to catch up with my family. Additionally, our new crossing was aboard a "cruise" ferry, which was a free upgrade from the "economie" ferry that we had originally booked, so we were rather excited about that.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EIeFwncPKiM/VuMydJfL1gI/AAAAAAAAAoM/eEx8oZ3V5G08gsw263dxrlfJWI-cBI8dg/s1600/20160208_165916%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EIeFwncPKiM/VuMydJfL1gI/AAAAAAAAAoM/eEx8oZ3V5G08gsw263dxrlfJWI-cBI8dg/s400/20160208_165916%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After lots of hard work, the engine finally fitted into Reg's boot, thank goodness</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
A week later, we were sailing out of Portsmouth aboard the Cap Finestère, in some blustery winds and choppy seas. Most other passengers were huddled inside, keeping away from the harsh conditions, but Alex and I were out on deck until Portsmouth had disappeared from view. It is hard to explain, but we both find it exhilarating to be on a large vessel in conditions that would seem horrendous on a sailing yacht - it's great to have the opportunity to appreciate the strength and ferocity of the wind and waves, without being fearful or worried about the safety of yourself or the vessel. We had a great night's sleep in our outside cabin; again, the novelty of both sleeping a whole night at sea without having to keep watch is one that I'm not sure will ever wear off. We arrived in Santander at around 18:30 the following day, just as the sun was setting, and headed off to find our hotel and get our heads down for the night.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BjL1cck66Po/VuMyg6yrJgI/AAAAAAAAAoM/qaOgcHwmLOk31hmMFvXH3-AwIihTfFlXg/s1600/20160219_200409%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BjL1cck66Po/VuMyg6yrJgI/AAAAAAAAAoM/qaOgcHwmLOk31hmMFvXH3-AwIihTfFlXg/s400/20160219_200409%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wrapped up warm to watch the sights of Portsmouth disappear from out on deck</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The next day, we filled up with cheap petrol, and explored a local cave, before heading south on the Spanish motorways. "La Cueva de Altamira", which was recommended by the manager of the hotel we stayed in, actually turned out to be a replica cave and museum, opened in 2002 in order to protect the original cave from damage being caused by the carbon dioxide generated from its many visitors. Whilst it was interesting to see such a large replica, and gaze up at some spectacular reproduction cave paintings, we found the experience to be lacking in comparison to how it would have felt to be in the real cave. There was no damp smell or cool atmosphere that you would usually expect in a cave, and it just didn't feel the same to be looking at a copy of the paintings, rather than the awe one might feel at being so close to a drawing that had been created by another human being around 20,000 years ago. Nevertheless, it was worth a visit, especially with entry being free on a Sunday.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UovlBiCP05s/VuMyhGXAIFI/AAAAAAAAAoM/gxMubbWCb3sVxMvASt7IiHpplafY6MrcQ/s1600/20160221_121630%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UovlBiCP05s/VuMyhGXAIFI/AAAAAAAAAoM/gxMubbWCb3sVxMvASt7IiHpplafY6MrcQ/s400/20160221_121630%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex never tires of driving Reg - it's his first car! <br />
Beautiful Spanish scenery in the background</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We gave ourselves two days to drive from the north of Spain down to the Algarve, allowing for a stopover in a place called Plasencia around the halfway point. The Spanish roads and scenery were both superb - we enjoyed free, easy driving with views of snow-capped mountains and vast areas of open countryside, interspersed with medieval towns. Upon crossing the border into Portugal, we exited the motorway network in order to avoid the tolls, and found ourselves driving through picturesque towns and villages, similar to those that we'd been admiring from afar throughout Spain. This second part of the journey was undoubtedly slower and we were plagued by huge amounts of roadworks, but it was still enjoyable in its own way and we managed to arrive in Lagos just before dark. We headed straight to one of our favourite restaurants, Frango Dourado (Golden Chicken), and stuffed ourselves with a Portuguese steak each for dinner, to make up for having skipped lunch during the day.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Portuguese steak was a welcome dinner, after a long drive. Under all those potatoes,<br />
there is actually a huge juicy steak sat in bubbling gravy, topped with an egg.</td></tr>
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It was a great feeling to have made it all the way to Lagos in Reg, having completed our mission of bringing Seahorse her new engine. Having said that, we didn't feel like the task was actually complete until we had removed the engine from the car; a job that we didn't relish the thought of, given how difficult it was to get it in there. The following day, we drove to the boatyard and explained to the manager, Ricardo, that we had an engine in the boot of the car that would need extracting. With his usual efficiency, he arranged for someone to come along with a forklift to help us unload it and, in a matter of minutes, the pallet was out of the boot and stored safely in the boatyard. Now we could breathe a sigh of relief and get started on the real work... installing the new engine!</div>
Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06821472236408880197noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1229588946568695315.post-63303103175205019512016-02-27T23:05:00.001+00:002016-02-27T23:05:49.901+00:00A Grueling Journey<div style="text-align: justify;">
In our last blog entry, Kate mentioned that we were planning on taking Seahorse to a boatyard on Tenerife. Well, we have since made the trip to a boatyard...but Seahorse is nowhere near Tenerife!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waving goodbye as we leave Marina Lanzarote</td></tr>
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Back in December, we were talking over our plan to go to Tenerife while sat at a café in Marina Lanzarote, enjoying a couple of decaf coffees. The next thing you knew, the new plan was to ditch Tenerife and sail North to Portugal instead. We had initially discarded this idea when looking at where to refit Seahorse, due to the length of the voyage. The more we considered it, the more we thought it was worth giving a go. Having never sailed the old girl, and not knowing how well she has been maintained over the last decade, the thought of setting off on a 550 mile sail was daunting to say the least. However, being in Portugal for the refit would, for several reasons, be <i>much</i> better for us. After a thorough inspection, we concluded that she was up to the job.</div>
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Having not fully made up our minds, we decided to let fate decide our destination. We were due to fly to the UK for a couple of weeks over Christmas. I simply said that when we returned, if the winds were from the North, we would take the easier sail to Tenerife, if they were from the South, Portugal it would be.</div>
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When it came to it we had the best forecast we would ever be likely to get for heading North, in an area where sailing North is notoriously difficult. Our last few days on Lanzarote were a whirl of final preparations, such as filling our jerry cans with diesel. Although Marina Lanzarote proudly boasts the largest travel lift in Europe, some of the basic conveniences for the average yachtie are sadly still missing, such as a diesel pump. We had to walk over a mile to the nearest road vehicle petrol station, which although not far, feels like a very long way when you're carrying 70 litres of diesel. By the end of it, our forearms burnt like we had been involved in an industrial spillage accident at the Deep Heat factory.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Jugueton", one of the friends we made on Lanzarote</td></tr>
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We were busy right up until the last moment. After calling Lanzarote our home, on and off, for about two years, slipping the lines was an emotional moment. I was sad to be saying goodbye to the people and places we have got to know on the island, but was very excited to be moving on, heading to a boatyard where we can finally give Seahorse the attention she deserves and open the next chapter of the Great Adventure.</div>
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We have had some fairly uncomfortable experiences in our relatively short cruising lives. The one that sticks in most people's minds is the trip from Portugal to the Canary Islands, where we got knocked down in an unforecast storm. This trip was much, much worse!<br />
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Unfortunately for our readers, there was no spectacular moment of horror for me to recount. What made this trip so awful was that it was physically exhausting and mentally distressing for such a long time. The passage took us 16 days. We always knew it was going to be a slow trip, because the wind is generally North-Easterly and on top of that Seahorse's hull was badly fouled, which has a disastrous effect on a yacht's speed. We could make a top speed of 3 knots if we had favourable winds. Ordinarily, we would have been able to more than double this. Our average speed for the voyage worked out at 1.7 mph. While I was sat in the cockpit on watch one evening, it occurred to me that a toddler could toddle between Arrecife and Lagos faster than we were sailing. After that, I kept imagining giggling children tottering unsteadily past us.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kate's favourite pass time - feeling sick</td></tr>
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Poor Kate was struck down with really bad seasickness for most of the journey. It's quite usual for us to get sick for the first few days of sailing, but we have always been able to handle it between us. Kate's sickness was on a whole different level to this, though, which was an unexpected side effect of the fact that she's halfway through cooking our first baby. In the early stages of her pregnancy she suffered with morning sickness, but was never actually sick. She had been fine for quite some weeks before we set sail, so we thought that was the end of it. Not so! The pregnancy, combined with the motion of the boat, meant that she was doing a non-stop impression of 'that' scene from The Exorcist. This left her feeling drained from being so ill and me exhausted from doing as much as I could so that she could rest.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sun setting while Kate steers. It's going to be another long night at the helm for us!</td></tr>
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When on watch, and often when off watch, we very rarely had a chance to relax. We had a wind vane self-steerer onboard, but it turned out to have been badly installed and so it was more or less useless. We also had an electric autohelm, but the alternator didn't work and the solar panel didn't produce much juice, so we had to save our battery power for more crucial things like the radio, nav lights and engine starting. This meant that unless we could balance the boat so she would sail herself, we had to hand steer. We did manage this about half the time, but this still left us steering for the rest. This was especially tiring without a proper ship's compass to steer by. Just how the previous owners didn't think this was a necessary feature, I'm not sure. Instead, we had to use our hand bearing compass - not an easy thing to do.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our glow in the dark hand bearing compass.<br />Guaranteed to put you to sleep</td></tr>
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Staying awake while steering on night watch was about as likely as Kate keeping her dinner down. The problem was that you had to rest the compass on the bench in front of you. As soon as I tilted my head down to check our course, my body would think "oh great, the head's going down, it must be time to rest our eyes" and I would instantly fall asleep. I can't understand how I could fall unconscious in the blink of an eye, sat upright in the fresh night air, trying my hardest to stay awake, considering that when I was off watch, snuggled down in the comfort of my bunk, wanting to fall asleep, I would find it impossible to do so, worrying about all the things that might be about to break on the boat and how I could stop them from doing so.<br />
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When I wasn't steering or trying to sleep, I was fixing things. Because Seahorse hadn't been put properly through her paces for so many years, one thing after the next needed my attention. The following is an example day, taken from the log book:<br />
<ul>
<li>Discovered water in the engine bay, so spent time pumping to clear the water</li>
<li>Investigated where the water was coming from, which meant tearing up most of the aft cabin</li>
<li>Found that the exhaust pipe had rusted through and it was the cooling water that was leaking in through that hole</li>
<li>Fixed the leak using some 'boat saver' putty</li>
<li>Fixed the leak again because the putty wasn't actually that good at saving a boat (luckily I had some epoxy putty as an alternative)</li>
<li>Fixed the leak yet again because the boat saver putty failed in another location (luckily I had rags and gaffa tape, which, it turns out, along with a big hammer is all you need to fix almost anything)</li>
<li>Filled the diesel tank from a jerry can</li>
<li>Fixed the bow light which had broken such that it couldn't be turned off</li>
<li>Lowered the Spanish and Canarian courtesy flags</li>
<li>Tried, unsuccessfully, to get the alternator working</li>
<li>Checked the engine and fuel pump oil levels</li>
<li>Tried to get the wind vane self steerer working, which proved impossible without reinstalling it</li>
<li>Spent time trying to get the sails set up to chafe less</li>
<li>Boiled eggs, ready for snacks when the weather makes cooking tricky</li>
<li>Ate spaghetti from a tin</li>
</ul>
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All that took about 6 hours, having only had an interrupted 3 hour's sleep the previous night. This was a particularly busy day, but wasn't far off typical.<br />
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With no contact with the outside world, we were left trying to predict the weather by reading the clouds and swell that came our way. Several times, a large container ship would pass close enough for us to be able to identify and I would call them on the VHF, to see if they could give us the forecast for the area. One day when completely becalmed, I called a passing ship and was kindly told that "there are blue skies and it's quite a nice day". Once I had managed to politely explain that I was more interested in a shipping forecast, rather than the information I could glean by stepping out into the cockpit, we received an accurate and pleasing forecast, but the first version did make us chuckle. Maybe he heard a British accent and thought that I must simply be interested in discussing the weather as small talk!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Like ships passing in the...day. A rare but welcome sight: a commercial ship close enough to identify and call for weather</td></tr>
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Kate and I both felt that this trip was the worst experience of our lives so far (mourning aside). So many things kept breaking that we couldn't help but worry about what would break next, hoping that it wouldn't be something that would stop us reaching Portugal. Of course, running on so little sleep made every problem much worse. When we were sailing into the wind, things were at their worst. We had lots of leaks from on deck, under the teak where the steel has rusted. When heeled and pounding into the seas, water would flood through these holes, soaking our possessions below decks and forcing me to mop up the bilges before going on watch and again upon getting off watch, so that Kate wouldn't have to do it as that kind of work would be tremendously worse for her with her seasickness. It's hard to explain how awful it feels to be so intensely worried and exhausted, without break, for such a long long.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New potatoes and pesto. Try it!</td></tr>
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Luckily, we had each other to help get us through. Bad experiences usually bring us closer together and this trip was no exception. "We're going to make it" became our mantra and we would say it over and over whenever one of us felt particularly low. Then we would talk about "That Glorious Day", which was what we called the day when we would arrive. We went over every detail of it time and again, imagining how amazing it was going to feel.<br />
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We continued to have problems right to the end. We were crossing the large shipping lanes about 30 miles off the coast of Portugal when the wind began to die. It wasn't long until we were in a dead calm. Shipping lanes are no place for a small craft. The scale of it probably isn't far off a matchbox car trying to cross a motorway. For this reason, we immediately started the engine so that we could continue making progress. I was nervous about how much diesel we had left because we needed to get out of the shipping lane, but still have enough remaining to get into the marina when we arrived, which is up a fairly long channel that is too narrow for sailing.<br />
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There's no fuel gauge on Seahorse, so I had been using a piece of wood as a dipstick to take the level of our tank. I did this and recorded in the log that we could run the engine for about a further three hours before running dry. Thirty minutes later, the engine stopped! We initially thought it had broken down, as it had overheated and seized earlier in the trip. It was hard to estimate how much fuel was in the tank, because it's a cylinder on it's side, rather than being square, which means the level doesn't drop at a constant rate. In our estimates, though, we always erred on the side of caution, but we obviously didn't do so enough. We think that the feed pipe must be quite high in the tank and maybe the rolling of the boat gave a false reading on the dip stick. Either way, we were now well and truly stuck right in the middle of the shipping lane. This was bad. Really bad!<br />
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I tried making a radio call to any boats in the area that might be able to sell us fuel. We thought it would be an easy way for a local fisherman to make some extra cash, but either no one heard us, they weren't interested, or they couldn't understand my bad Portuguese.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Celebrating 100 miles to go with a packet of 'emergency' biscuits</td></tr>
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What did happen, though, is that after a brief spell, we got a radio call from MRCC Lisbon (Marine Rescue Coordination Centre - you can think of them as the coastguard). They had heard my message and wanted to check that we were OK. They took really good care of us, putting out a navigational warning that would be picked up by any shipping in the area, and individually calling any ship that was heading in our direction, to make sure that they had heard the warning and could see us. They did this all through the night while we waited for the wind to pick up, which they had told us it was forecast to do.<br />
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It didn't. As dawn broke, we decided that we couldn't wait any longer and MRCC Lisbon arranged for a marine breakdown service to bring us more diesel so that we could get out of danger. It took quite a while to arrange, because we couldn't talk directly to "Diesel Man", as we referred to him. Instead, we had to talk to MRCC Lisbon on the VHF, and they talked to Diesel Man on the phone. Guess what happened shortly after we had finally got everything arranged and relayed our current position to Diesel Man? Of course, the wind picked up!<br />
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We weren't sure that we would be able to get a new location to Diesel Man if we moved, seeing as he had already set off, so we had to sit there for a couple of hours, wasting the wind.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Diesel Man to the rescue!</td></tr>
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It was a great sight to see Diesel Man, who actually turned out to be two men, come crashing through the swell, which had picked up considerably by this point. They hung around nearby, eating sandwiches, to make sure that we could get going again while we filled the tank and bled the engine, which was nice of them.<br />
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With the engine back up and running, we decided to motor-sail out of the shipping lanes. We had more than enough wind to sail, but we figured we may as well go as fast as possible, and didn't want to stop the engine again anyway, in case it didn't start again, seeing as it had given us so much trouble on this journey already.<br />
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Several hours later, when we had to turn into the wind to head for Lagos, we took the sails down and continued under motor alone...only to find that the clutch was broken and we didn't go anywhere. I couldn't believe it! We had been sailing so well, faster than any other time on the journey, that I hadn't noticed that the engine was in effect just running in neutral, wasting our precious diesel.<br />
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Just 10 miles from salvation and now we weren't even sure we could make it. If I couldn't get the clutch fixed (about which I knew nothing), we would have had to turn round and sail to an anchorage, which would have been massively depressing, not to mention stressful as we have never anchored Seahorse. To be forced do so for the first time, under sail, without the backup of an engine, was not top on my to-do list.<br />
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After an hour of working away in the filthy engine bay, which was completely covered in oil after the engine decided to spring a leak earlier in the journey, in the dark, trying not to drop spanners and sockets into the bilge where I wouldn't be able to find them amongst the oil and water lurking down there, fighting seasickness, my work was done. With my stomach in my mouth, I fired up the engine and shoved it into gear. Hallelujah, the prop shaft turned - I had fixed it!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A glorious sunrise to lift our spirits</td></tr>
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Those remaining 10 miles took us over 5.5 hours! Once we were in mobile phone signal range, we let our families know that we were still alive. They had been quite worried about us, having been out of contact for over two weeks. Kate's parents, who were staying nearby, drove to Lagos to wave us in. They stood under a lighthouse that marked the headland we needed to reach before turning for Lagos marina. We were so excited when we saw them flash a torch at us. We gave them a flash of our strobe light in return, after which, they got to experience just how slow we were going. After a bit more torch flashing, they realised that, although we weren't far away (about 3 miles at that point), they had better go for a cuppa while they waited for us. Next time you take a toddler on a 3 mile walk, you'll know why!<br />
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Thankfully, there were no further breakdowns or incidents while we slowly chugged towards the marina. Getting Seahorse tied up and stepping ashore was an indescribably joyous moment for us. Kate's parents had very kindly brought "Dad's special bolognese" with them, which we ate below decks while regaling them with the trials and tribulations of our journey. I thought their sagging eyelids were simply a sign that Kate was going on a bit, but my watch told me otherwise. Feeling exhausted was normal for us, so we didn't realise that it was well into the early hours by then. We bid farewell to Chris and Mike and went to sleep until the marina office opened for us to check in. 5 hour's sleep, at the same time as each other, without having to continually get up to fix or adjust something, was absolute luxury.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kOGFEBaVOpo/VtIa4nPmVQI/AAAAAAAADu8/PW4_CPIh7DU/s1600/20160123_090553.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kOGFEBaVOpo/VtIa4nPmVQI/AAAAAAAADu8/PW4_CPIh7DU/s640/20160123_090553.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We made it! Seahorse on the reception pontoon at Marina de Lagos, 16 days after leaving Lanzarote</td></tr>
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Even though this journey was so tough and I hope I never have to do something similar, I did try to keep reminding myself that things weren't actually that bad. We had plenty of food and water, we weren't having to madly bail to keep the boat afloat, or battling hypothermia, we had a working rudder, sails and engine (mostly!) etc. Sometimes, though, the fear of what might be is worse than the reality. Also, the trip wasn't all bad. We saw some amazing skies while on night watch, with more shooting stars than we have previously seen. We got visited several times by dolphins and briefly by whales and we enjoyed eating meals together in the cockpit when we were becalmed. Furthermore, the trip was very useful at showing us what changes and improvements we need to make to Seahorse, to make future journeys enjoyable. What was great as well is that we completely feel that Seahorse is the right boat for us. Once she has been given the attention she deserves, she is going to make a wonderfully safe and comfortable home for us.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xWhLri2GepU/VtIbJ2jpw5I/AAAAAAAADvA/OGlcfuApu-c/s1600/20160114_141439.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xWhLri2GepU/VtIbJ2jpw5I/AAAAAAAADvA/OGlcfuApu-c/s640/20160114_141439.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dolphins showing us the way to Portugal. They probably wondered why we were going so slowly!</td></tr>
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Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10685263692271779240noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1229588946568695315.post-39800122708382136892015-11-29T21:28:00.000+00:002015-11-29T21:28:20.390+00:00Change of Tack<div style="text-align: justify;">
Our last blog post may have caused some confusion, for which we apologise. In describing our maiden voyage in Seahorse, Alex was reflecting back on the trip which took place in the summer of 2014. We have not moved her from Lanzarote since, although we plan on doing so very soon.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8NFLQenVJ40/Vls_mezEA2I/AAAAAAAAAjU/EhHnOe_RIwg/s1600/DSC_0730%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8NFLQenVJ40/Vls_mezEA2I/AAAAAAAAAjU/EhHnOe_RIwg/s400/DSC_0730%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying the sunshine at Marina Lanzarote, with our friends Andrew and Juliet</td></tr>
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In my last post, I described our plan to move to a boatyard in Gran Canaria at the start of November. Well, perhaps unsurprisingly, our plan has changed and this is no longer the case. Seahorse is currently still on Lanzarote. When discussing our plans with another yachtie at the marina, we discovered that he had experienced problems with the yard on Gran Canaria, with respect to being allowed to work on his own boat (or not, as the case may be). Given the fact that we plan on doing most of the work ourselves, and had not been able to obtain explicit permission from the yard that we would be able to do this, we decided not to take the risk and cancelled our reservation.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-quHdzOgDBTk/Vls_kWHIScI/AAAAAAAAAjA/U9o1THvbXHI/s1600/DSC_0726%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-quHdzOgDBTk/Vls_kWHIScI/AAAAAAAAAjA/U9o1THvbXHI/s400/DSC_0726%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We've also had some very wet weather, with large amounts of rainfall</td></tr>
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Back to square one, we began looking for other suitable boatyards in the Canaries, which would definitely let us work on Seahorse ourselves. By happy coincidence, a day or so later, a yacht arrived on the pontoon opposite us with a familiar face aboard. It was Fran, a friend of Firebird's new owner on Tenerife, who was sailing on a yacht with two other friends around the islands. It was really nice to catch up with him, and meet his friends. Through chatting with them over the course of their stay, we learned that the yacht they were sailing on had spent time in the boatyard at Marina San Miguel on Tenerife, and the owner had found it to be a very good yard which allowed owners to live aboard and do the work themselves. We had enjoyed our stay in the marina itself whilst on Firebird (although, it is slightly isolated and at the bottom of a rather large hill) and so this became a viable option for us to consider.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f-fgbMIhGIk/Vls_k80MHII/AAAAAAAAAig/CRejzLfZxEI/s1600/DSC_0728%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f-fgbMIhGIk/Vls_k80MHII/AAAAAAAAAig/CRejzLfZxEI/s400/DSC_0728%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lanzarote's drainage didn't seem to be able to cope with all the water</td></tr>
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Fran spoke to the marina manager on our behalf, and discovered that they would have room for us in the yard from the end of December. He also told us that he knew of another steel boat who had spent time in the yard, and would be able to recommend a very good welder if we should need one. We really started to feel positive about going to Tenerife, which has a wealth of chandleries and supplies in the capital Santa Cruz, and where we would have some local friends who may be able to help us in terms of valuable local knowledge. Our plan began to evolve into staying in Lanzarote until our mooring expired (7th December) and then setting sail for Tenerife.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Captain Cook managed to rustle us up a pumpkin pie... using just a frying pan!</td></tr>
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Meanwhile, besides the planning, we have been making great progress on clearing excess weight off the boat. This may be hard to believe, but we actually hit the 300kg mark on our progress chart. It's amazing how all the small things begin to add up – even foreign language pages from instruction manuals have been expelled, and the grams soon amount to kilograms. Every little helps. Seahorse is now sitting a lot higher in the water, and feels much more buoyant. We celebrated our 300kg milestone with a breakfast at the Arrecife Gran Hotel (after which we probably brought a few extra kilos of body weight each back on to the boat, but never mind).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UhaC-NYuNBk/VltjYZwUOFI/AAAAAAAAAjc/_oGd1A9iKJE/s1600/agh_brekkie.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="276" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UhaC-NYuNBk/VltjYZwUOFI/AAAAAAAAAjc/_oGd1A9iKJE/s640/agh_brekkie.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex enjoying unlimited buffet breakfast for only €12 each at the Arrecife Gran Hotel, having reached our 300kg milestone</td></tr>
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As well as shifting weight, we have a good deal more space on board now, and can now sleep in the forward cabin at night – luxury! For a while, this meant being unable to sit in the saloon, with the benches being taken up by sails, but we soon cleared enough space in the aft cabin to accommodate these. Additionally, Alex installed our decent foot pump in the galley and we filled the water tank, meaning we now have running water! Progress indeed. She is slowly taking shape, and becoming a lot easier to live aboard. Of course, this will all change once we get her to the yard and start pulling her to pieces, but for the time being our quality of life has much improved.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We can now sleep in the forward cabin, having cleared <br />Seahorse's sail wardrobe out of it</td></tr>
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So, December is fast approaching and we will soon be on our way again. Hopefully our next voyage will be less eventful than our maiden one, and perhaps we will even be able to raise our sails on this trip! We hope that we can coax our ageing engine into service for us just a few more times, to help us reach our destination, whereby we can retire it and eventually replace it with our new Beta engine. Exciting times, and a good deal of hard work ahead of us, which we are eager to begin. No doubt it will be the New Year before we can really start our refit in earnest, but just to have arrived at the boatyard where the work will be taking place will feel like a big step forward for us, and one that I very much look forward taking.</div>
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Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06821472236408880197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1229588946568695315.post-1094745259420965862015-11-01T12:00:00.000+00:002015-11-01T12:00:43.131+00:00Maiden Voyage<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gNFjkSwfV24/ViT7y1XFkUI/AAAAAAAADpQ/N4VJ09scPZ0/s1600/DSC_0538.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gNFjkSwfV24/ViT7y1XFkUI/AAAAAAAADpQ/N4VJ09scPZ0/s640/DSC_0538.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kate enjoying our maiden trip on Seahorse, with Fuerteventura in the background.<br />
That smile, and the calm waters, wouldn't last.</td></tr>
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"Alex, there's a flashing light"</div>
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My eyes snap open and in the darkness I'm thrust into that strange post-waking state of being fully alert, but completely confused as to where I am. It takes a couple of seconds to shake the fog of confusion from my mind. Ah yes, I'm on Seahorse, halfway between Fuerteventura and Lanzarote, motoring into the wind and swell. The first trip of our new boat. I fumble for my head torch and check my watch in the red glow of it's night-vision preserving mode. 02:30. I shouldn't be back on watch for another thirty minutes.</div>
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"How far away is it?"</div>
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"No, not that kind of light, it's on the dashboard"</div>
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Anything out of the ordinary while offshore at night immediately grips me with a primal gut feeling of negative emotion and racing adrenaline. On an as-yet strange boat that we know next to nothing about, the feeling is especially intense.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XbZpIhARofw/VjX6aI0qJkI/AAAAAAAADrg/zFjcz_-_r_w/s1600/DSC_0739.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XbZpIhARofw/VjX6aI0qJkI/AAAAAAAADrg/zFjcz_-_r_w/s320/DSC_0739.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
I slip out of my sleeping bag and poke my head out of the companionway to make an inspection. The dash is a sparse affair. There are a couple of gauges, a rusty key in the ignition with a green light next to it to tell you that the ignition is on, a faded yellow button that engages the starter motor, and a small orange light. As Kate observed, this little orange light had started to slowly flash. It's immediately obvious, despite the complete lack of markings, that this light is not flashing in celebration. It's not telling us that we made a fine choice in the diesel we purchased and that the engine is running particularly well. No, the engineer who decided to add this little light did so to tell us that something is wrong, but what? My brain does a sub-conscious evaluation of the situation and lets me know the most probable issue.</div>
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"I think it must be the alternator. Let's lift the hatch and have a look"</div>
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The engine is situated beneath the cockpit sole on Seahorse. As Kate bent down to lift the floor panel, I was running through what we might find. I was thinking that maybe the alternator belt had snapped or slipped off, or possibly a wire had vibrated loose. What I definitely was not expecting, when Kate lifted the hatch off, was to be met in the face by an absolute torrent of water spraying out of the engine bay.</div>
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This trip wasn't going well. We had only travelled about 40 miles in our new boat and now, in the middle of the night, she was sinking.</div>
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This was actually the second time we had to lift the engine cover in a hurry. The first time was as we were leaving Gran Tarajal marina. I had started the engine, checked I could engage forward and reverse gears, then Kate slipped the lines so we could leave our berth. I reversed out, straightened her up using a bit of forward prop wash over the rudder and was now nicely aligned between the rows of boats, pointing towards the rocks at the edge of the marina with the open end of our channel behind us. All I had to do was engage reverse again and motor straight back. Nothing could be simpler, except that when I engaged the reverse gear, nothing happened. RPMs increased as I applied more aft power, but it seemed that we were still in neutral. I tried again and still nothing. Now I was beginning to panic because we were being blown sideways, onto the row of boats opposite us.</div>
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We were in a right spot of bother. We no longer had any lines ashore, there was no one there to take one if we wanted to throw one, and we were soon going to smash and scrape the bows and sterns of four or five boats. The first thought that occurred to me was to jump in and swim back to our pontoon with a mooring line, so I could pull Seahorse away from danger. The chances of succeeding in time seemed limited so I quickly dismissed the idea, ripped the cockpit floor up and in a last-ditch effort to save the day, stamped on the gear lever with my foot.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yKshshPhRnY/VjX6eUuBQqI/AAAAAAAADrs/4AWk0Le4Mo0/s1600/DSC_0736.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yKshshPhRnY/VjX6eUuBQqI/AAAAAAAADrs/4AWk0Le4Mo0/s400/DSC_0736.JPG" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The engine is below the cockpit sole</td></tr>
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It worked! We slipped backwards down the channel, engaged forward gear again and motored happily onwards, right up until the point when I was getting a face full of the Atlantic Ocean, gushing out of our engine bay.</div>
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I sprung into action, attaching the bilge pump handle and getting to work. It is generally known that nothing is faster at emptying water from a boat than a scared man with a bucket. It turns out that a scared man and a manual bilge pump works pretty good as well.</div>
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Upon discovering a leak, the first priority, instead of pumping, should be to discover where the leak is coming from and trying to figure out a way to stop it. I couldn't easily inspect the area, however, because the engine was running and it would be dangerous to lean down there, especially as the boat was ploughing through quite a large swell by this time. I didn't want to stop the engine, because with the low voltage warning that was flashing, we probably wouldn't be able to start it again, so I just had to hope that I could pump the water out faster than it was coming in.</div>
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It soon became apparent that I could, and the water wasn't actually gushing in as fast as it had seemed. A relatively slow leak had filled the engine bay to the point where the alternator belt had become submerged. This had the effect of spraying water at high speed upwards, heavily dousing the alternator and stopping it from working.</div>
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Once I had pumped the water below the level of the belt, the apparent gushing stopped and it wasn't too long before I had cleared all the water. Still being dark and dangerous to properly inspect the engine bay, we closed the cover and kept pumping every twenty minutes or so, to keep the water level down.</div>
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All the excitement of thinking we were going to sink had nicely displaced my other worry: was I going to be able to moor successfully when we reached Marina Lanzarote, or would reverse gear fail me again?</div>
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Thankfully, we did manage OK when the time came, although we hung around outside the marina until 08:00, when staff would be on hand to take our lines should we need it.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying fried egg sandwiches. At this point, we were still having great fun</td></tr>
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Once we were safely tied up, a friendly Dutch man came over for a chat. He had recognised the boat, but was wondering where the owner was, not realising that we had just bought Seahorse. The story about our trouble with reverse gear came out and he told me that the previous owner had experienced a similar problem, and had said that he was going to Gran Tarajal (where we bought Seahorse from him) to get the issue fixed. Well I guess that after we approached him about buying Seahorse, he decided that it wasn't his problem any more. Nice of him to warn us about it before we set off! What with that, and the leak in the engine bay, it's no wonder that he made his excuses at the last minute and hadn't wanted to accompany us on the voyage from Fuerteventura to Lanzarote, which he had agreed to up until the point he had taken our money and we had paid the outstanding marina fees for Seahorse.</div>
Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10685263692271779240noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1229588946568695315.post-11531375097687807092015-10-14T14:28:00.002+01:002015-10-14T14:28:35.621+01:00Highs and Lows<div style="text-align: justify;">
One might assume, given the title, that this post will have something to do with meteorology. That would make perfect sense, given the fact that we are now back in the Canary Islands with our new boat Seahorse. Surely, we must now be planning our next passage and be considering the weather systems that might be at play? Well, not exactly, no. The highs and lows that I bring attention to here are those of everyday life - good old mood swings.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q1n1hXiK42M/VhaXPqRZl9I/AAAAAAAAAhc/B1s7S9xHpxE/s1600/seahorse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q1n1hXiK42M/VhaXPqRZl9I/AAAAAAAAAhc/B1s7S9xHpxE/s400/seahorse.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seahorse, back in 2014, when we first fell in love with her</td></tr>
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Alex is rather fortunate in that he doesn't really get extreme highs and lows in terms of moods like I do. Although, he does have a tendency to get <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/hangry">hangry</a> and is often grumpy when he's sleep-deprived, so I guess there are pros and cons. I, on the other hand, experience life as a continuous barrage of peaks and troughs. When things are good, I'm super excited and perhaps slightly hyperactive…. When they are not so good, I fret and worry, and can't seem to think of much else except the problem at hand. Luckily for me, life is usually filled with more highs than lows, and I don't tend to stay down in the lows for too long.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6y7CmYJrg9A/VhadRO6-lJI/AAAAAAAAAhs/YxtofEYSs5E/s1600/12038326_10153645630124747_2332765625547085182_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6y7CmYJrg9A/VhadRO6-lJI/AAAAAAAAAhs/YxtofEYSs5E/s400/12038326_10153645630124747_2332765625547085182_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying a BBQ whilst on holiday on the Algarve</td></tr>
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After selling Red Kite, we took a short break in Portugal for our anniversary and my birthday, before heading back out to Lanzarote. A long fifteen months since departing the island, we set foot back on Spanish soil and headed for the marina. The folding bicycles that we bought last summer in Portugal were unpacked at Arrecife Airport and, laden with luggage, we cycled off with a glorious sunset behind us and our exciting new challenges ahead of us. Passing through the streets of Arrecife on a Saturday evening, the town was buzzing with live music and street food stalls. Apart from the sore bum and aching back at the end of the ride, this was a definite high.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vBex8cv_Jn4/VhaOlzHhA8I/AAAAAAAAAfY/PLeTuR25oHk/s1600/DSC_0593%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vBex8cv_Jn4/VhaOlzHhA8I/AAAAAAAAAfY/PLeTuR25oHk/s400/DSC_0593%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting our folding bikes ready at Arrecife airport</td></tr>
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Once at the marina (which had been completed since we left and was now bustling with people in its bars and restaurants), we located Seahorse, and hopped aboard with our bags and bikes. By now, it was dark, so I wasn't really able to see what sort of condition she was in after being neglected for so long, but my initial assessment was that she didn't seem too bad. Tired and hungry, we headed off to one of our favourite cheap eateries on the edge of the Charco and indulged in a meat stew (estofado) and Canarian potatoes (papas arrugadas). When we got back to the boat, we could hear music pumping out of the bar near our pontoon. Hoping it wouldn't continue on too late, we headed to bed. Unfortunately, at around midnight it got even louder as the disco swung into action, and continued until 6am. A few moments of relative silence ensued… before shoals of fish arrived to eat their breakfast from our hull, with their persistent "tap, tap, tapping". Note to self: locate earplugs.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6LjA0irVSlI/VhaV_smqxpI/AAAAAAAAAhM/LRvRbo8Tioo/s1600/DSC05039%2B%25281024x768%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6LjA0irVSlI/VhaV_smqxpI/AAAAAAAAAhM/LRvRbo8Tioo/s400/DSC05039%2B%25281024x768%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying a concert at Marina Lanzarote from Seahorse's cockpit, <br />
in the evening rather than the early hours of the morning</td></tr>
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As the new day dawned on us, so did the reality of the task ahead. Our new boat, Seahorse, is a fine steel ketch with about a metre more usable space than Firebird. She is slightly narrower, but has a wonderfully protected centre cockpit and a separate aft cabin. The aft cabin, at this point, was completely full of "stuff", as was the forward cabin. This rendered both berths unavailable and meant that we slept in the saloon; Alex on the starboard bunk and me on the floor. The saloon itself was also full of "stuff" - even more so by the time we had each brought a large rucksack aboard, as well as a shared holdall. Every available surface was cluttered, and we couldn't (and still can't) sit down until we had packed away the airbed and sleeping bags.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PCzJsi91wd4/VhaV_kvVXhI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/46-qnglOEG8/s1600/DSC05048%2B%25281024x768%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PCzJsi91wd4/VhaV_kvVXhI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/46-qnglOEG8/s400/DSC05048%2B%25281024x768%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sleeping arrangements in the main saloon on Seahorse</td></tr>
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The trouble is, when we bought Seahorse, the previous owner left everything boat-related behind, and we brought everything we owned from Firebird. When you combine the two, you are left with something more akin to a cargo vessel than a cruising yacht. Additionally, the head (toilet) was inaccessible (and still is) due to a plastic dinghy and a couple of life rings that are wedged in front of the door. Add to that an empty water tank that really needs inspection and possibly cleaning before refilling, and you are left with a unique and slightly stressful experience - camping on a boat. Water from jerry cans, washing up in the cockpit and either a walk to the toilet block or a bucket in the middle of the night, when nature calls.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ssfTi58oIg4/VhaOlyaYSYI/AAAAAAAAAfc/iSgw6uKpzFc/s1600/DSC_0601%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ssfTi58oIg4/VhaOlyaYSYI/AAAAAAAAAfc/iSgw6uKpzFc/s400/DSC_0601%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seahorse in her current state, with aforementioned bucket on the pontoon</td></tr>
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This alone wouldn't constitute a low. I've always been a fan of camping, and don't need much in the way of space or creature comforts. However, when combined with worries about the enormity of the task ahead of us and the external appearance of Seahorse in daylight, it didn't take long for me to start fretting. I probably should have realised that a steel boat, left unattended in the water for over a year would start to look a little worse for wear, but it was still a worry for me to see her like it. On deck, the rust that we knew was there already had worsened and lifted the teak deck even more, and the rust patches that we had hurriedly touched up before leaving her were, in many cases, just as bad as before we had done so. She was filthy, but we couldn't risk hosing her down properly, for fear of causing the rust to worsen and water to leak inside the forward cabin.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PrF2B3gxt50/VhaOlg3YkCI/AAAAAAAAAfk/Z4r6E5frvXA/s1600/DSC_0602%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PrF2B3gxt50/VhaOlg3YkCI/AAAAAAAAAfk/Z4r6E5frvXA/s400/DSC_0602%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No wonder the fish enjoyed feasting themselves, with this hanging off the hull!</td></tr>
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Below the waterline, there was a forest of epic proportions - I've never seen so much fouling on a boat. Luckily, this problem was easily solved, with Alex going in and attacking it with the boat hook. He managed to remove most of the long weeds, but of course the barnacles and urchins were not going to be displaced so easily - they would require the use of a jet wash, once she was out of the water. All in all, our boat was looking very sorry for herself indeed, and I was regretting our decision to stay working for so long in the UK. This was a low point, indeed.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IXLGMZ5akG4/VhZ_cx3KLyI/AAAAAAAAAfA/mOvpscocJYs/s1600/DSCF0372%2B%25281024x768%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IXLGMZ5akG4/VhZ_cx3KLyI/AAAAAAAAAfA/mOvpscocJYs/s400/DSCF0372%2B%25281024x768%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex clearing weed from Seahorse's hull</td></tr>
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I spent a day or two lost in my thoughts and worries, managing to console myself with the idea that we could always scuttle her (sink her on purpose) if we really had neglected her to a point beyond reasonable repair, cut our losses and buy another cheap boat. There are always options, and believe me I was desperately thinking of all of them, based on my imagined worst case scenarios. Luckily for me, it wasn't long before my thoughts took a more positive track, helped along by Alex, some internet research and conversations with other boat owners.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zTtPf48VQw8/VhaOnRBE2WI/AAAAAAAAAgI/RVwnWpkJ0Dg/s1600/DSC_0607%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zTtPf48VQw8/VhaOnRBE2WI/AAAAAAAAAgI/RVwnWpkJ0Dg/s400/DSC_0607%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm surprised the boat hook didn't break, under the weight of all the weed</td></tr>
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Almost opposite Seahorse on our pontoon, putting her firmly to shame, is the most wonderfully kept steel boat I have ever seen. Called Tanamera, with a very friendly and hard-working German owner, she could almost be a fibreglass boat, her steelwork is that good. Through conversations with her owner, who has owned her since 1988 and managed to keep her impeccable condition for all these years, I started to feel a lot better about Seahorse's future. He didn't seem too phased by Seahorse's outward appearance, and gave us lots of handy tips and food for thought with respect to fixing her up. In particular, his use of stainless steel for the pulpit, stanchions and cap rail really interested me.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fTYk2xyJstU/VhaOrXCLYZI/AAAAAAAAAg0/eiJf1uoS_pc/s1600/DSC_0679%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fTYk2xyJstU/VhaOrXCLYZI/AAAAAAAAAg0/eiJf1uoS_pc/s400/DSC_0679%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tanamera, a beautiful steel cutter</td></tr>
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On top of this, I decided to purchase a book about steel boat renovation, written by a marine engineer, using a birthday Amazon voucher from my brother that I had yet to spend. This was an encouraging read, which I have yet to finish, but it was reassuring to educate myself more about steelwork in general, especially as the author has experience of replacing an entire deck due to rust, and covers the processes involved in the book. Hopefully our repairs wouldn't need to be quite so extreme, but I was starting to feel more prepared in the case that it might be.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JrBeZBxZdX4/VhaOqfT_COI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/iNEVCpVp4k8/s1600/DSC_0647%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JrBeZBxZdX4/VhaOqfT_COI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/iNEVCpVp4k8/s400/DSC_0647%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It could be worse... imagine having to maintain a steel boat of that size!</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
Keen to get Seahorse out of the water and get started on repairs, we began making boat yard enquiries. We already had a place reserved in a boat yard in Gran Canaria from December, but decided that we didn't want to wait that long. Our preferred option was to use the boat yard at the marina we were in already, but we knew the prices to be steep. Still, we made enquiries as to the possibility of a discount for a long stay and/or pre-payment, and I also contacted the yard in Gran Canaria to ask whether we might be able to arrive there earlier than planned. Meanwhile, Alex was busy in discussions with Beta marine, from whom we had decided to purchase a new engine. It felt like things were moving in the right direction, and I was back on a high.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dKMF4dj3vzE/VhaOoVNGmRI/AAAAAAAAAf4/4ZimhXzXLdA/s1600/DSC_0612%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dKMF4dj3vzE/VhaOoVNGmRI/AAAAAAAAAf4/4ZimhXzXLdA/s400/DSC_0612%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gorgeous sunset over Marina Lanzarote</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
Sadly, rather predictably, Marina Lanzarote were unable to offer any sort of discount to stay in the boatyard and at over double the cost of a marina berth, we realised that we would be forced to move Seahorse to Gran Canaria. Whilst the prospect of sailing to a new location would usually be very exciting, I was apprehensive about making this journey, and began to worry about the rigging, the engine, the leaks on deck, and anything else that my troubled mind could find of concern. Frustratingly, this all coincided with our company's year end accounts needing attention, so I was spending hours going through spreadsheets and statements, and on phone calls with our accountant. I began to feel frustrated that progress wasn't being made on Seahorse, and irritated that I wasn't in a position to do so. Ah yes, back on another low.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tKe38PRd0Vw/VhaOrFFGkYI/AAAAAAAAAgs/x8ft50xCoak/s1600/DSC_0670%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tKe38PRd0Vw/VhaOrFFGkYI/AAAAAAAAAgs/x8ft50xCoak/s400/DSC_0670%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How to antifoul your boat, if you don't want to pay extortionate yard fees</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
Finally, with accounts and admin under control, we got confirmation from Gran Canaria that we would be able to arrive there at the start of November. This was fantastic news, meaning that we would be out of the water a month sooner than planned, and able to start work on Seahorse’s repairs. We started preparing in earnest for the 90 mile passage from Lanzarote to Gran Canaria, by first clearing out any unwanted items and belongings. This would have the desired effect of lightening her and making her easier to sail, as well as giving us some much-needed room to move below decks - essential for a passage.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xJ1GLIEjYEk/VhaOpQ9-fkI/AAAAAAAAAgE/ShXepyYUncs/s1600/DSC_0614%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xJ1GLIEjYEk/VhaOpQ9-fkI/AAAAAAAAAgE/ShXepyYUncs/s400/DSC_0614%2B%25281024x576%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We get up super early to do our Freeletics exercises by the sea, <br />
whilst it's still relatively cool <span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">(22<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 22.4px; text-align: start;">°C</span>)</span> in the mornings</td></tr>
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We have been working hard on this task over the past few days, and have cleared out 216kg of excess weight so far. Unbelievably, 16kg of this was clothes! Hopefully, the local charity for homeless people will be glad with such a hefty donation. We now have a lot more free space in the saloon and, consequently, daily living is getting easier. Hopefully, within the next few days, we can sort out the water tank and once again use the taps to access running water. Once we begin removing the sails from the forward cabin, we may even be able to sleep in the same bed again! Exciting times!</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-y4ezvrR4CL0/VhaV_n2ZznI/AAAAAAAAAhI/U2voh5R1lec/s1600/DSC05044%2B%25281024x768%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-y4ezvrR4CL0/VhaV_n2ZznI/AAAAAAAAAhI/U2voh5R1lec/s400/DSC05044%2B%25281024x768%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex, holding a large pile of clothes ready to go to the local charity</td></tr>
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So, right now I am back on a high, and making the most of it. I know there are lows lurking ahead (probably a good few of them hiding under that teak deck) but, hey, that's life. The main thing is being able to focus on the positive, educate myself about the reality of the negatives and get to work on the task at hand. When the task ahead seems overwhelming, I mustn't spend time thinking about its enormity, but focus on one small step at a time, and we will soon be making progress in the right direction. Before you know it, we'll be setting sail in our beautifully refitted boat, and the only highs and lows of significance will, once again, be those in the weather forecast.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Lwh5Sa2xMjg/VhaOsQKrx6I/AAAAAAAAAgw/5Y4cfsy4GnY/s1600/DSC_0682%2B%2528576x1024%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Lwh5Sa2xMjg/VhaOsQKrx6I/AAAAAAAAAgw/5Y4cfsy4GnY/s400/DSC_0682%2B%2528576x1024%2529.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex cooking a roast in the cockpit</td></tr>
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Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06821472236408880197noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1229588946568695315.post-74687332876825376222015-10-06T14:56:00.000+01:002015-10-06T14:56:51.884+01:00Red Kite Has Left the Building<div style="text-align: justify;">
Having already used 'Firebird Flies the Nest' as the title of the post when we sold Firebird, it was hard to know what to call this one. We need to stop selling boats!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-P-KhZW2dt5o/VhPJ_TBgaEI/AAAAAAAADoE/2RyeQusn2Xw/s1600/DSC_0443.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-P-KhZW2dt5o/VhPJ_TBgaEI/AAAAAAAADoE/2RyeQusn2Xw/s320/DSC_0443.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Moored at Windsor on my birthday</span></td></tr>
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We had planned to carry on working until the end of August, then sell Red Kite, leave London and get back to the Canaries. We had already booked our flights for this, so when the IT project that we were both working on got unexpectedly cancelled, we were left with five weeks on our hands. It didn't take us long to come up with, unsurprisingly, the idea of a boat trip! Seeing as we already had a boat, it would have been rude not to.<br />
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This gave us the opportunity to get some use out of Red Kite and let her stretch her legs, rather than just using the poor old girl as a houseboat.</div>
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We left Brentford Dock Marina, where we have been keeping her and set off up the Thames, full of excitement and enthusiasm. However, it soon felt like the trip had been cursed and instead of being a leisurely cruise up the calm waters of the Thames, turned into an advanced boat maintenance practical exam.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-179-U8r-TcQ/VhPJ-GCjoUI/AAAAAAAADn0/xxuI0aygamk/s1600/DSC_0399.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-179-U8r-TcQ/VhPJ-GCjoUI/AAAAAAAADn0/xxuI0aygamk/s640/DSC_0399.jpeg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Craning poor Red Kite into the boatyard</td></tr>
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The first thing that went wrong was that our sterndrive (a bit like an outboard motor) started leaking oil into the river. We didn't want to be polluting the Thames with it and also, it was embarrassing to enter a lock and have a slick slowly spreading out from our transom. Crucially, however, if left unchecked, the gearbox would have seized, resulting in a very expensive repair. There was no way of topping the oil up until the boat came out of the water, and we didn't know how long we had until this fatal damage occurred. We looked up the nearest boatyard that could service the sterndrive, which was luckily only a day away.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NwE0k-tqCWM/VhPJ-eP5kzI/AAAAAAAADn8/1ktyya9Xfxg/s1600/DSC_0416.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NwE0k-tqCWM/VhPJ-eP5kzI/AAAAAAAADn8/1ktyya9Xfxg/s400/DSC_0416.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kate operating a lock out of hours (when the lock keeper is off duty)</td></tr>
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We slowly made our way to Chertsey Meads Marine the next day, obviously pretty nervous about the sterndrive seizing at any moment. Little did we know that the emergency of the day was actually going to be the engine cooling system.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kate picking blackberries</td></tr>
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We arrived at Molesley Lock and noticed steam coming out of the engine bay vents. Upon investigation, we discovered that the coolant had mostly boiled away and it was lucky that we had noticed when we did. Fortunately, the lock was actually also broken, so we couldn't make progress anyway. A diver was in the water trying to fix a problem with one of the lock gates, so no boats could pass through the lock in either direction.<br />
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We immediately set to work fixing our <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NHNKVbpTXdc/VhPH8MKIFGI/AAAAAAAADnU/-3Tfcw3M4ok/s1600/DSC_0384.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NHNKVbpTXdc/VhPH8MKIFGI/AAAAAAAADnU/-3Tfcw3M4ok/s320/DSC_0384.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me eating the blackberries</td></tr>
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problem, which should have been a simple matter of pulling out the old, broken impeller, which pumps the river water up into the cooling system, and replacing it with the spare that we always carry. Of course, it wasn't this simple as the old one was seized in place and the new one wouldn't slot in properly. After much fiddling, tweaking and scratching our heads, dismantling most of the pump system in the process, we managed to get it all sorted. We had literally finished pouring in fresh antifreeze mix, to replace that which boiled away, when the lock gate was fixed and we were able to carry on up the river!<br />
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We made it to the boatyard before the sterndrive self destructed and were greeted by the most friendly and helpful staff, who managed to get Red Kite all fixed up for us in just a couple of days. We had been worried that this was going to take a week or two out of our trip.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Black Magic Pie</td></tr>
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While we waited for the work to be done, we walked around the local hedgerows, harvesting tub after tub of blackberries. I invented a gluten, sugar, dairy free blackberry and apple pie, which we called a Black Magic Pie. We had to bake it in a bowl, as we didn't have anything else suitable, but it all worked a treat.<br />
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Taking Red Kite upstream after she was fixed up, looking for somewhere to moor for the night, we encountered emergency number three. We had peeked our nose into a possible mooring spot, but it was too shallow and I managed to gently hit the bottom while I was reversing out onto the river again. I didn't think too much about it until a few minutes later when there was a bang and the boat started shaking violently. My immediate thought was that I must have hit the propellor earlier, weakened it, and now a blade had fallen off, unbalancing the prop and shaking our fillings out. This was the last thing we needed: another haul out and a new propellor.<br />
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We limped over to the bank, where we inspected the damage. As it happened, the propellor was fine, apart from the fact that tangled around it was a curious mess of white and brown. Eugh, we had been nappied! It turns out that disposable nappies are very strong and quite heavy when saturated with water. A few minutes of poking at it with the boat hook took care of this problem. The worst bit was trying to get the thing into a bin bag without touching it. Here was us thinking that the Thames no longer contained biohazardous waste!<br />
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By now, we had received our fair share of bad luck and were looking forward to a stretch of being able to relax and enjoy the scenery. This was not the case.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pumping the bilge with an improvised tube</td></tr>
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Emergency number four found us the following day when we stopped for lunch. I shut the engine down, went below decks to write in the log and heard a familiar whirring noise. The water pump was running, but why was it running? I hastily shut the pump off and started investigating. It didn't take me long to find out what had happened. A joint in the pressurised water system had come apart. Noticing a drop in pressure, the pump assumed that someone was running a tap and dutifully set about pumping water from our huge freshwater tank through the system. Unfortunately, the 'system' now consisted of simply an open-ended pipe, which was happily pouring water down into the bilge. The whole tank had been emptied, which must have taken quite a while to do because I had only filled it the day before.<br />
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When I lifted a floor board, I discovered that Red Kite's bilge has the same capacity as her water tank. It was completely full to the brim! Any more water and we would have seen it seeping up between the boards!<br />
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This was a pretty annoying problem, especially as I was looking forward to lunch and most things getting between me and food will make me angry. As we didn't have anything stored in the bilge, it wasn't a serious problem (apart form delaying lunch). Repairing the broken pipe was simple, but then we needed to empty Red Kite's new bathtub. Bailing by hand would have taken forever, so that was out. First we tried re-routing the freshwater system so that the pump would draw from the bilge, rather than the tank. After all, the pump had filled the bilge, so it should jolly well clean up the mess. This didn't work, though, because the pump wasn't strong enough to lift the water up such a height. After some searching, we found some spare piping and could extend the bilge pump from the engine bay to the main cabin, which allowed me to pump the water out by hand in about twenty minutes.<br />
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This was our final emergency, thankfully. I think we passed the test!<br />
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The rest of the trip was just as we had imagined. We really enjoyed the scenery along the Upper Thames and the clichéd slow pace of life associated with inland waterways cruising.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the beautiful, peaceful mooring spots that we found</td></tr>
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We put Red Kite on eBay and got lots of interest. We sold her to a couple of families who will share the ownership and we're sure that Red Kite will be well looked after and will enjoy her new life. We were just glad that all our emergencies happened at the beginning of the trip, so that nothing happened on any test rides and we could sell her with a clean conscience.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Showing two of the new owners the ropes</td></tr>
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Now we're back out in the Canaries, on our new boat, which replaced Firebird about 16 months ago. Details of the new boat will follow in the next post.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the many, many swans that can be found at Windsor</td></tr>
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Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10685263692271779240noreply@blogger.com0