Domestic Equlibrium

It seems, perhaps, that a corner is in view and will perhaps be turned shortly. We are close to achieving the state of Domestic Equilibrium. That state where things seem to proceed in expected patterns and (dare I say it?) few nasty surprises interrupt the progress of the day. Basic needs have been met. Grocery and chemist stores are now well in acquaintance, having been visited and evaluated for price and scope of merchandise. (And it has been confirmed that the ONLY place in Grantham UK where a boxed brownie mix can be purchased is at ASDA -- pace Sam Walton.) Should a need arise, its satisfaction is no longer the cause of any great distress. Meals have become fairly predictable in quality and quantity, and personally-favored hours of dining have been established. The laundry facilities have been mastered and the most efficacious times and settings have been discovered. We returned this noon from a house of worship after a second week there, agreeably met and challenged. More faces look familiar. More stairwells do too. (Sidenote: I am in the process of collecting photographs of all the staircases located in the manse, for publication this week. The number of them staggers the imagination. There are at least two ways to reach any point in this building.) We have now reached the point at which we can stride with confidence through our residence without fear of being ambushed by disaster.
That being said, I am somewhat troubled by the sense that I have finally re-achieved a state which I left at the end of 2009. Some of my more pressing obligations seem to have followed me across the "pond" and still remain concerns today. The past month has been engaged in a process of reorienting "normal" so that those obligations can continue to be met. Had we remained at home, obligations would have been more quickly and efficiently met. Fewer cracks would have opened up to swallow lost ideas and promises. The absence of DISequilibrium would have certainly been an easier path. Now, once this imminent corner has been turned, the task will be to stand above the State of Equilibrium let it propel me forward toward adventures which otherwise would never have been enjoyed.

A Good Day

Not every day turns out the way it should. I hesitate to even suggest that this one did. Especially since it isn't over yet. However, today's list of accomplishments includes:

-Poached egg for breakfast
-Successful completion of a load of household laundry (no wait at the machines)
-Vacuuming of the flat
-Washing up of stray dishes
-Change of sheets and towels
-Welsh language practice
-Several pages completed in writing of Latin textbook
-Completion of murder mystery novel
-Practice of viola
-Long walk in the countryside
-No snacks or naps in the afternoon
-A mug of tea
-Time with family
-Anticipation of time with new friends

Not such a bad day, when all is said and done. And to have accomplished all of this while retaining a modicum of sanity and equanimity is certainly notable. I don't say all this to boast, nor do I wish to tempt the Fates. But I do recognize that days like this are so very rare that it would be unforgivable to let it slip by uncelebrated.

A Familiar Stranger

The process of settling in has been very interesting. Things seem different and yet at the same time familiar. Such an odd juxtaposition. There was a flood of familiar smells and sights and sounds when we first arrived (British cleaning products, mixed with the musky undertones of soup and potatoes). Almost immediately, though, there was the remembrance of all the little irritations of being somewhere else and trying to keep a routine in someplace different. Some of these irritations grew gradually the last time, and were not really troublesome until the very end, at which point we were eager to get home and do things OUR way. There was no honeymoon phase this time; those little annoyances crowded in alongside the fond nostalgia. I don't want to become too complacent about the magnificence of being here (having, after all, seen it all before). As with any relationship, there are days when it is the memory of that first exuberant passion that is the only thing which keeps that relationship going when the going gets tough.
The staff at the manor house does an excellent job of being welcoming and patient with yet another crop of Americans who are attempting to navigate the inanities of life in this place. As a teacher, it would be very tiring to teach first-semester freshmen every single term of every year. And yet, that is precisely what these people are doing. The positive aspect can't be dismissed, however: every term they get to see their own world anew through the eyes of rookie explorers. I suppose that is the reward.
We have been well-received on this trip. And the experience of having been here before has greatly reduced some of the stress of relocating with a family to a different place. In the balance, being a familiar stranger has been a very satisfying experience.

That Golden Orb

What is that golden orb, suspended in the heavens? I suppose it must be that mysterious body called the "Sun." We haven't seen so much of it since arriving. And it does wonders to the spirit to have it visible. Everything here is mossy and green, emergent from the week of snow. In KC, one would discover grit and grey when the snows recede. Here, things are readymade in shades of green. Although there are many trees with bare branches, the pine trees and evergreens more than make up for it, and the grass stretches out like a carpet across the fields. It is a wonderful change of pace.

The World's Hardest Mattress

Well, I do believe that I have found a mattress which is harder and less inviting than ours in the states. It resides in our flat here. But I went shopping at ASDA yesterday (which is the UK branch of Walmart) and purchased a duvet (sort of like a down comforter, only with fiberfill instead of feathers) and put it between the mattress and the sheets. Much better. Not only was I able to sleep during the night, but I was able to stand up straight on the first attempt when I got up this morning, AND able to put on my socks without falling over. This is progress.
ASDA is quite an experience. Superstore shopping. The food section encompasses a similar scope of foodstuffs and household products as it might back in the states. More canned goods (meats and other such exotic items), perhaps. Dairy sections of grocery markets here present a dizzying array of goods not available in the states. Take "cream" for instance. We wished for some half-and-half type cream that we could put into our coffee. On the shelves, one finds whipping cream, heavy cream, double cream, single cream, and then "light" versions of single cream. Clotted cream, and fraiche cream. I resorted to looking at the pictures on the cartons: is the product pictured as being poured into a beverage, or is it a thicker concoction to be drizzled over fruit, or is it more suitable as mortar for bricks and stonework? Does the serving suggestion include whipping, agitating or chiseling of the product? Does the word "coffee" or "tea" or beverage appear? We settled on Light Single Cream (with 50% fewer kilocalories). I'll let you know how that works out for us.
The everything-else sections of ASDA are much more abbreviated than at a typical WalMart. There were 4 or 5 aisles of miscellaneous essentials: books, sheets (but no mattress pads, hence the duvet purchase described above), small appliance, camping gear, light bulbs and a miniscule hardware section with gallon cartons of paint (6 of them) and some screws and pull-chains. Upstairs, the clothing section was tucked under the eaves of the warehouse and stocked essentials, but not much variety. I was looking for a plain long sleeve Tshirt and found none in the ladies section. It interests me to find that junior fashions here are as impractical as they are at the states. Who in their right mind would purchase a strapless little black mini-dress in the dead of winter with sub-zero temperatures? Evidently the British teens suffer from the same flights from sanity that our American teens do. (We saw scores of young girls scattering from the bus stop after school, long and leggy in their black mini skirts and school blazers, bracing themselves against the sleet and driving snow.) No clothing was purchased at ASDA yesterday. But I did score a duvet, a woobie, electric hair clippers, some hooks from which to hang our keys, and a sponge. (The latter was specifically labeled for cleaning of bathroom surfaces. I debated between that and the package of simple synthetic sponges, but decided to live large while here.)
Today will involve no foraging for household basics. A book calls, and perhaps I will nap on my significantly-mitigated super-firm mattress.

Accomplishments, put into perspective

So I have just finished a mahvelous dinner with several new friends. One is a nationally-recognized chorister and musician (nationally, as in UK). One has climbed the Himalayas whilst on holiday. This all leads me to reflect on the following: in the states, folks such as us who go away to live in a castle for four months attract a great deal of admiration for traveling to the sort of village from which people escape to go do interesting things all around the world. What is to be said about arriving someplace from which long-time residents hope to escape?

Return

The smell is still the same. I can't quite decide what it is. But the stairwell has the smell of soup, cleaning products and the smell of local soil and snow and old radiators heated under a layer of new paint. The manor at Harlaxton. It is amazing how the smell brings back so many memories. The snowflakes dance outside the window, intermittently chased by sunbeams. It is true: if you do not like the weather, wait a few minutes and it will change. Inside, there are some familiar friendly faces. And the refectory (a more elevated name than the place bore when we were here 7 years ago) is frightfully chilly; the windows fog and frost up. The coffee is better. Our flat is a snug little alcove alongside the back of the attic railway which once delivered coal and groceries to the manor below. We have a peaceful day or two before the students descend in which to settle in and rediscover our way back around. We are only four here this time rather than five. But we are glad to be here.