I changed school three times during my school career, and none of the changes were as part of a cohort of pupils moving onto their next stage. Even my move into secondary school was out by one term from the peers I left behind, and by two terms from the peers I joined. Don't try to work that last sentence out, just believe me it was a muddle.
Most of my school career I spent feeling like I was running to keep up. It seemed like everyone was in the know and I had somehow missed the most recent broadcast. I always put this down to turning up two terms too late, even though I stayed in my secondary school to the bitter end, a total of six years plus that most notable extra term.
I have been reflecting on this recently not, as you might expect, as a result of my kids "trying out" their soon-to-be-new school in Budapest. No, I like to blame my parents for turning me into a befuddled case, but I duck out of the blame game when the roles are shifted. Actually, it was as a result of my own sense of having missed the latest newsflash last Saturday, before we had even set off for a visit to Budapest. This was when, bedecked in my orange flowery poncho and matching orange hat, I found that no one else (except a couple of lads dressed as a monkey and his banana: was I glad to see them) seemed to be bothering with carnival in Maastricht that day. Maybe sticking "Nee Nee" on my letterbox is bearing consequence.*
The Doctor and I were greatly confused by the empty bars, certainly cleared for partying (just not yet, or maybe already: who were we to know?). We were certain that, when we lived in Maastricht itself the revelry began at least on Saturday (not to mention Thursday, for those prepared to dress up as old ladies) and went on for several days (it certainly felt like too many when we lived in the thick of it). To add to the embarrassment, we had invited a couple of friends, one who was game and was bedecked in her pink sunglasses and hair attachments, and one who found the whole carnival thing bizarre and was only coming along because he was (newly) married to the pink-bedecked-other-half. We put it down to the weather, but someone could have told us...
Interestingly, The Doctor had a straightforward school career and, despite his general self-assuredness, I can still catch him double checking the facts and hoping he has all of them to hand before he makes the plunge into something that could be costly, at least in the face-saving economy. So I feel it is time for me to try out some new-fangled technology and set up my first ever blog-poll (see left panel). Are you in the know??
Finally, it is perhaps time to confess that this week we probably have damaged our children. Not because they have been dragged halfway across Europe to get acquainted with their new life. But because, as they always suspected, their parents (notably foreign parents) are most definitely not in the know, even in the country they have lived in for almost nine years. Upon our return from the carnival or lack of such, The Lawyer went upstairs and washed his face of his spy moustache and beard. Historic note: this was the first time he had washed his face unasked. And no doubt there is another lawsuit heading our way.
*In the Netherlands, there is a potential of several million circulars dropping through your door, and a couple of hundred free newspapers, every week. In the name of the environment, or your own sanity, you can choose to opt out of these freebies, which I have done recently. But no one told me that meant getting a phone book would prove a challenge (can you not have "Ja to information that is actually useful" stuck to your letterbox?), not to mention carnival goings-on.
Monday, 22 February 2010
Sunday, 7 February 2010
7 weeks to go
Happy New Year!
I have been tempted to start an altogether new blog, but I had to admit to myself that this was purely down to pride, my last post having been more than a year ago. I also had to admit to myself that, with seven weeks to go until our boxes are packed, my thoughts are very much spiralling, so the title of this blog is wholly appropriate.
As I have a very limited audience, I am sure I don't need to enlarge on my witterings, but just in case you are not in the know (and if you are, no I am not rubbing it in. Just still testing whether it seems more real seeing it in writing), we are moving to Budapest as we continue to follow the Doctor's career.
We have had two surveyors from two separate removal companies traipse round our house, estimating the number of boxes and container space we need. One of them offered to tell me the number of boxes. I chose to live in blissful ignorance. Just one of those facts of life I decided wasn't worth knowing. I have spent the past months emptying the house of all unnecessary belongings, but every time I walk someone around the house I see it through their eyes and realise we still have quite a quantity of STUFF.
My plan is to have an empty (but hopefully filling-up) box on each level of the house and, as I come across something that is glaringly unncessary, to throw it in the box. However, so far the first box has already been recquisitioned by The Lawyer for his treasures, those which Must-Definitely-Not-Be-Given-Away.
The weeding-out process has had different psychological impact on each one of us. The Musician is constantly asking whether any item lying too close to the front door is "being given away" (no doubt he will write ballads about this experience in years to come), The Lawyer just shrugs his shoulders when asked if we can give something away (but is he secretly planning to sue us in the future?? First test case: the two-headed-dragon), and The Doctor still thinks more needs to go. Personally, I am enjoying the pounds / kilos we have shed so far.
As well as getting rid of excess flab (if only it were as easy in human terms), it has been a pleasure to find appropriate homes for our stuff. We started off with a sale of many of our English books. Living in Maastricht, with limited access to browsing English books in their physical form, the book sale took place in festive spirit. Next went the toys. We have tried as much as possible to match toys to boys (hoping that their mothers won't hate us for overloading them), and have enjoyed hearing stories of one toddler (new owner of kitchen set) discovering the art of cooking, another lovingly taking care of his new family of dinosaurs and of The Doctor's Subuteo at last seeing the light of day.
The promise we are making ourselves is we will be as consistent in shedding excess belongings even when we are not moving. I think we may have said something of the like before... Luckily we seem to move once every 3-4 years.
I have been tempted to start an altogether new blog, but I had to admit to myself that this was purely down to pride, my last post having been more than a year ago. I also had to admit to myself that, with seven weeks to go until our boxes are packed, my thoughts are very much spiralling, so the title of this blog is wholly appropriate.
As I have a very limited audience, I am sure I don't need to enlarge on my witterings, but just in case you are not in the know (and if you are, no I am not rubbing it in. Just still testing whether it seems more real seeing it in writing), we are moving to Budapest as we continue to follow the Doctor's career.
We have had two surveyors from two separate removal companies traipse round our house, estimating the number of boxes and container space we need. One of them offered to tell me the number of boxes. I chose to live in blissful ignorance. Just one of those facts of life I decided wasn't worth knowing. I have spent the past months emptying the house of all unnecessary belongings, but every time I walk someone around the house I see it through their eyes and realise we still have quite a quantity of STUFF.
My plan is to have an empty (but hopefully filling-up) box on each level of the house and, as I come across something that is glaringly unncessary, to throw it in the box. However, so far the first box has already been recquisitioned by The Lawyer for his treasures, those which Must-Definitely-Not-Be-Given-Away.
The weeding-out process has had different psychological impact on each one of us. The Musician is constantly asking whether any item lying too close to the front door is "being given away" (no doubt he will write ballads about this experience in years to come), The Lawyer just shrugs his shoulders when asked if we can give something away (but is he secretly planning to sue us in the future?? First test case: the two-headed-dragon), and The Doctor still thinks more needs to go. Personally, I am enjoying the pounds / kilos we have shed so far.
As well as getting rid of excess flab (if only it were as easy in human terms), it has been a pleasure to find appropriate homes for our stuff. We started off with a sale of many of our English books. Living in Maastricht, with limited access to browsing English books in their physical form, the book sale took place in festive spirit. Next went the toys. We have tried as much as possible to match toys to boys (hoping that their mothers won't hate us for overloading them), and have enjoyed hearing stories of one toddler (new owner of kitchen set) discovering the art of cooking, another lovingly taking care of his new family of dinosaurs and of The Doctor's Subuteo at last seeing the light of day.
The promise we are making ourselves is we will be as consistent in shedding excess belongings even when we are not moving. I think we may have said something of the like before... Luckily we seem to move once every 3-4 years.
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