7. Settling in; New Friends

During our first few weeks, we count almost twenty children on Westfields.  We could not be happier with the location of our new home.  We're not even far from the local doctor, as we discover when Thomas comes down with a sore throat.  (We are covered by the National Health Service and are sent our cards.)  The days' activities are numerous and varied.  Among other things, Jeffrey concludes the purchase, for twenty pounds, of a bike (something we did not bring over) from Peter, a friend of Chris'.  In hindsight Peter (I think because we are Americans and/or we live in Westfields House) thinks he can get a better price and attempts to renegotiate the deal.  Much to Jeffrey's dismay, I make him give the bike back in return for his money.

Brian calls shortly after we arrive to tell us our money is in the bank.  For the first time since we left Las Vegas, we realize we can afford the year away, though we do not budget for the year -- a failing that will come back to haunt us in the spring of 1992.

We settle in and explore Saffron Walden and the surrounding countryside.  We register with the police and, as requested, give them our passports.  We go to Cambridge and meet Mr. Harvey, the estate agent, who provides us with extra keys and necessary information.  Antique, used furniture and furniture reproduction stores are everywhere and we visit a few, buying a few extra pieces of bedroom furniture and a desk for Robert at TEXAS, a DIY (do-it-yourself) store, one of the few stores open on Sunday.  The other thing we buy at TEXAS is a barbecue.  Our first few weeks we eat our Sunday lunch (between noon and two) at nearby pub restaurants.  The food is good, but nothing great, yet it takes away the pressure of having to plan ahead and grocery shop on Saturday for Sunday and Monday meals.  On discovering Waitrose, however, grocery shopping becomes less of a burden and we soon become accustomed to the Sunday closing. 

We register at the small Catholic church in town, Our Lady of Compassion, and enroll Jeffrey in the first communion class.  Almost immediately we hear back from the kindly pastor, Father Dobson, who says he's sure he can get all the children into St. Thomas, the free Catholic school right around the corner from Westfields House.  It is tempting, but we are all now sold on St. John's. 

In what will become a habit during the year, I attend a weekday mass.  Our Lady of Compassion Catholic Church is an old barn, standing in the shadow below the magnificent Parish Church of St. Mary's.  Since the time of Henry VIII, the parish church has belonged to the Church of England.  This beautiful building is situated on the highest spot in town, standing above all other buildings and surrounded by a lovely graveyard and large, horse chestnut trees. 

My sister has told us about a California family, the Sickings, who have lived in Cambridge since March.  Jan and Paul have three children, Carey (a year older than Robert), Danny (a year younger than Robert) and Alison (six).  Paul is running a computer company in Cambridge for six months, and we are happy to hear from Americans experienced at living in England.  The best remark is Jan's: nothing in England is easy.  We visit each other's homes and have each other's children for the night.

 I do a little gardening, adding another hydrangea and a couple of small lavender shrubs to those already planted in the Westfields garden.  We have no sprinklers, and it is a chore to keep the flower baskets watered.  I buy a hose-pipe (hose), but learn shortly afterward that we live in an area (East Anglia) in its sixth year of drought (though it is hard to tell from the scenery).  There is a hose-pipe ban in effect; all watering must be by hand with a watering can.  On the first of August we have a pretty good thunderstorm, the only one of the summer.  A blackbird is a constant visitor on our front lawn.

We sleep with our windows open.  In the evenings the swifts fly about making their short cries.  At night the house creaks and groans.  In the mornings we are awakened by one of two sounds: the sound of the mail dropping through the mail slot at 7:30 or the loud cooing of the doves.

One afternoon in our second week (6th of August) we visit Robert Sayles in Cambridge and spend a fortune on the children's uniforms.  Robert's is the worst; his blazer is almost £100 ($170).  Not to be outdone, I buy a notebook computer, Wordperfect and a laser printer and order a desk and chair.  Later in the week, on Thursday, we visit the Science Museum in London, going the way Jan Sicking suggested: driving to Epping, about twenty five minutes in the car, where we catch the London Underground at a remarkably good price.  As we stand on the platform this morning, the announcement comes over the public address system that the hostage Jackie Mann has been released in Beruit.  Many, many people are smiling.

The Science Museum is spectacular.  I have never seen so many wonderful models, mostly of ships.  Our big mistake is buying lunch rather than bringing our own.  The restaurant lines are large and the seating merely passable; the picnic area, on the contrary, is lovely.  After a long visit, we go next door for a quick look at the Natural History Museum and finish off our day in London with afternoon tea at Harrod's.

The Sickings and Buckleys at Maldon

1000th Anniversary of the Battle of Maldon

Danny, Jeffrey and Mara

On Saturday the 10th, the Sickings and the Buckleys drive out to see a reenactment of the Battle of Maldon on the coast, commemorating the 1000th anniversary of this event.  There is an accompanying fair and, in between events on this warm day, the children watch the Punch and Judy show, the four of us drink beer and all of us go for a walk on an island in the nearby estuary.

During the week of August 11, the antique armoire which Cathy ordered in Tetbury arrives at the house, followed the next day or two by our boxes from the US, the contents of which we somehow manage to stuff into our modest abode.  We are at last settled.  School does not start, however, until the 16th of September.  At rest, we begin to plan again. 

With all of our roaming around and sightseeing over the past two months, the one thing we really miss is the beach, and we begin to plan, through our local travel agent in Saffron Walden, John Hillary, a week in France at the beach during the end of August.  In preparation for our visit to the continent I note the exchange rates: £1 = $1.65, £1 = 10 French Francs (FF).