Act X- Best Trip with the Worst Beds in England

Hi all!

Kurt and his bird-friend

Yes I know I skipped my weekly post last week. The week had been relatively uneventful and, with the kids now in school, I was eager to get working on some long-furloughed projects. Highlights of said week were a small festival at Parker's Piece which featured the largest inflatable slide we have ever seen, another tea at The Orchard where a cheeky song-bird ate scone crumbs out of Kurt's palm, and our first official college dinner, at Clare Hall (not to be confused with Clare College)

Boys at the Country Fair on Parkers Piece

The university system here at Cambridge is a little bit different than the US system and we are still piecing together our understanding of it. I suppose a good way to think about it is to recall the Hogwarts House system- everyone attends Hogwarts School but their house determines where they live and some of their activities. When one applies to Cambridge, they first select a course of study and then a college. Their lectures can be taught by professors from any of the colleges but the practicums of these same classes that are taught only by their college's fellows and taken only with their college's students. So basically your college delineation decides where you live and your study groups. In the same way, the lab Kurt is working with is made up of graduate students from the various colleges though the lab head, Professor Keyser, is associated with Gonville Cauis College.
  Anyway, one of Kurt's colleagues, a research associate name Jaehanger, invited Kurt and I and Alice (another person who works in his lab) to one of the periodic formal dinners held at his college, Clare Hall. Luckily we were able to get another grad student to watch the kids and so were able to enjoy this grand college tradition, one that works to build the community of the college. Clare Hall is an off-shoot of Clare College and is one of the newer colleges in the university. Therefore we did not get to dine in one of the grand old oak lined halls but the food was still delicious and the company was second to none. We briefly met the head of the college but mostly spoke with Jaehanger who is from India and Alice who is a native Britain. We had a great time and hopefully made a good enough impression that maybe we will get invited to a few more before we have to go.

 We are nearly to the half-way point of our time here and a few weeks ago, worried that we were not making the most of our time, I hastily planned a trip to Stratford-Upon-Avon. I think I mentioned in one of my first posts that, this time around in England, I am going to embrace my cliche Shakespeare-fandom and just nerd-out with the bard as so many other tourists have done before me. But I am also aware that there are others in my traveling party that do not yet share my love of Mr. Shakespeare and so I coupled the trip with a return visit to one of our favorite spots on our 2013 trip, Warwick Castle, a 12th century fortress located just north of Stratford, also on the Avon.
 

On our way to Warwickshire, with the aid of our rental car, I planned a short stop at the Cambridge American Cemetery, a memorial to Americans who died in or around England during the Second World War, located on the outskirts of town. This is a little jaunt that I have wanted to make since we arrived, but my Uncle Fred warned me that it might be kind of tricky on the bicycle due to the decrepit nature of the bicycle lanes this far out of town. How does Uncle Fred know about the bicycle lanes in this remote part of Cambridge you might ask? Well it is because, Fred's father, Clarence, is buried at the Cambridge American Cemetery. Clarence was my Grandma Katy's first husband and so I have no blood ties to him and know very little about him aside from the fact that his nickname was 'Happy' due to the nature of his personality. This endears him to me immediately but I also felt the need to visit him out of respect for all those that fought in WWII and also for my Grandma Katy, who was the closest grand-parental figure in my life. The cemetery itself is beautiful with a tranquil reflecting pool and neat rows of white grave-markers, but it also has a new visitor center, opened in 2014 that serves as a mini-WWII museum so that even those who do not have a specific plot to visit can get a lot out of a visit to the place. Uncle Fred is right though- definitely would have been a bit of a harrowing bike-trip with the kids.
 
  After a smooth drive through the Midlands, we arrived in Warwick to the rest-stop hotel that I booked as part of a package deal with Warwick Castle. I had hoped to reserved one of the medieval glamping tents on the castle grounds but Kurt reminded me that those were simply out of our price range and so I dropped our booking into the lower category. Foolishly, I assumed that any hotel endorsed by the castle would have been somewhat vetted as far as comfort and cleanliness. While our Days Inn room was clean and much more spacious than the room we had in London, its beds were, it think it is safe to say, the worst I have experienced- like sleeping in a thin-bottomed tent at the base of a mangrove tree. Luckily the room came with some extra pillows so I was able to build a small barrier between my spine and the springs but definitely had to swallow a few ibuprofen before storming the castle in the morning.

Warwick Castle, has had many owners since it was first founded by the Anglo-Saxon princess, Aetheldreada but its current incarnation is a restored living-history resort that gives visitors a taste of various medieval arts and practices with some outright fun sprinkled in. We took the boys here when they were one and three years old but it turned out that they were much too young then and did not get much out of it. Ages six and eight turned out to be near-perfect however and we we stayed from gates-open to gates-closed with everyone wishing we had more time.  Highlights of the day were the trebuchet launch, the charismatic archer-historian who offered to shoot an arrow through Klaus' stuffed cat, and the fantastic falconry shows.

Despite a light drizzle, the whole family was so captivated by the falconry show which featured several types of eagles, vultures, owls, and kites, that we came back for the second show of the day, completely missing our chance to walk the incredible castle walls.     

Klaus at Warwick 2013 and 2018

 

On Sunday, after a second round of ibuprofen for my spring-weary back, we arrived at Shakespeare's birthplace in downtown Stratford-Upon-Avon. This lovely, quintessentially Tudor structure is believed to be Shakespeare's childhood home, making it the most likely place that he was born. The building also served as his father's glove-making workshop and also, with a later addition, his family's pub and inn.   

Klaus with Poor Yorick in the background 

 

  Our early arrival time allowed us a leisurely stroll through the cozy spaces of the house and afforded us a fair amount of the docents' time. (Just as a side note- congrats England on your crop of museum docents! They are a wonderful bunch and have really put a shine on all our tours.) The boys enjoyed working through the free kids workbooks that came with admission and, upon exiting the house, we came across a small acting troupe employed by the sight to preform famous scenes from Shakespeare's works. When they asked for requests I proposed one of Malvolio's speeches from Twelfth Night and they did not disappoint.    

 

 Shakespeare's Birthplace is run by the Shakespeare Trust which operates several other bard-related sights and offers an affordable family-pass that is good for admission to all of them. When planning out the trip it seemed to me that we had time for two of these sights. I selected the birthplace for me and, to appease the kids, I thought Mary Arden's Farm (Shakespeare's mother's family farm), a "working Tudor farm" might appeal to some of their interests. To seal the deal, there just happened to be an Apple Festival going on at the farm on the date we were thinking of. This proved to be a great idea and we had a thoroughly good time at the farm. We fed the animals, tasted freshly pressed apple cider, and played with some medieval toys all before lunch. Then while enjoying some delicious sandwiches and tea from the cafe, we watched a Punch and Judy- style puppet show. Kurt thought the puppets were creepy (they were) and the hurdy-gurdy accompaniment irritating (it wasn't) but the boys were captivated, Klaus laughing louder than anyone else in the audience.

Free face-paint!

After lunch Leif and Klaus got to try their hands at the hand cranked pottery wheel and we all got to make some clay tiles using medieval designs collected from all over England. With a stack of tiles in hand, we watched the blacksmith at his trade for a good forty minutes, played with the giant chess set, and caught yet another falconry show! This time the presenter was an owl named Scruff and, if we thought we had gotten close to the birds at Warwick, it was nothing compared to the proximity we experienced with this bird who often brushed us with his wings as he landed on our picnic table.  While we marveled at Scruff's silent flights and bright orange eyes the falconer related some interesting historical facts about falconry. Apparently there were very strong laws (with accompanying punishments) about who could own and use what sorts of birds of prey. Higher classes could have falcons or hawks while peasants were only allowed kestrels, who caught smaller and less desirable prey. Owls however were a bit of a loophole for the smart peasant as they existed outside this classification. Get yourself and owl,son!

 

  After that our weekend was pretty much spent and we drove home well-satisfied to Cambridge to rest-up before our next adventures this week with Kurt's mom, Dale, and our neighbor from Gettysburg, Hannah. 

Kurt and Scruff

 
 

Act IX- First Day of School and Some Kid-Free Time

  Huzzah! The gods of bureaucracy at last came through for my frayed parental-nerves and Leif and Klaus were able to start school this week. In my last post I think I left you all at the point where Kurt and I had resorted to the calming effects of a gin and tonic after being mentally wrung by the School Admissions Board. The following morning after several more phone calls with terribly polite members of the primary educational sector, we were finally and definitively told by both parties that the boys would indeed be accepted at Abbey Meadows. However the fastest turn of the bureaucratic wheels would only provide for a school start date of Sept 10, three full-days into the school term.

    Happy to be done with it all I settled into two more days of summer with my summer-saturated children. We had a good time and come Monday they sprang into their new uniforms and we set off for Abbey Meadows. There is no school bussing system here in Cambridge. Parents are responsible for providing transport for their kids to and from school. Luckily we have the bakfiets as the walk to Abbey Meadows from our house would probably take an hour at the boys' distracted pace. Klaus filmed the whole ride there for you (takes about 15 minutes) but as he is still working on his camera-man skills most of the time he had the lens pointed at his feet and in an orientation that my computer refuses to correct. I have posted one of the more watchable sections at about the halfway point of our trip which involves the descent from a bridge over the train tracks. Missing from the video is a picturesque trail through the cow pastures of Coldham Commons, a tunnel under the train tracks, and passage through four cattle grids. 

 

School Bus

Drop-off at the school is quite different from what we are used to in the Gettysburg and involves parents/carers walking the kids directly to their classrooms. At 8:30 the school gates are open and everyone walks through a series of courtyards where each classroom has an outside entrance. At 8:35 the teachers open their doors and admit the students, chatting with parents and answering any questions that may arise. It seems like a really nice system for helping parents get to know the teachers and vice versa. Leif's teacher, Ms. Boorman, is a hoot and seems to have already got a good handle on Leif's tendency to day-dream. Klaus' teacher, Ms. Fitzpatrick, is heavily pregnant and will be leaving next week for the rest of term. Not sure who is going to replace her but Klaus seems unconcerned.
  Having finally deposited the children in good hands, Kurt and I decided to take Monday off and go exploring downtown. We wandered around for a few hours, taking advantage of St. Johns open gates and enjoying the views of its many courtyards and lovely chapel. The college sits on the site of a medieval hospital and was endowed by the grandmother of Henry VIII, Margaret Beaufort, whose symbol, the portcullis, is carved into many of the buildings along with her son's, (Henry Tudor) rose. The Bridge of Sighs, one of the most iconic sites in Cambridge, belongs to St. Johns but sadly can only be seen by visitors from the outside. 
 

  We also visited Fitzbillies, a renown Cambridge bakery, and picked up some of their famous Chelsea Buns (think cinnamon roll with dried fruit in the folds) before heading to a riverside restaurant, The Millworks, for a decadent kid-free lunch.  The food was fantastic and the decor, with its working water-wheel, was charming. Oddly enough the Millworks is the name of one of our favorite restaurants back home.

  The kids are now well-into the school rhythm, happy when I drop them off and happy when I pick them up. Leif even came home the other day ready to relate the history of Coldham Commons which we cycle through on the way to school. In medieval times the land of the commons was communal farm land worked by peasants to support their families. The nearby Barnwell Priory (the abbey for which Abbey Meadows is named) wanted to enclose the lands into their own holdings but after an ugly peasant revolt ("Lots of fights" as Leif put it) abandoned that idea. The priory lasted until Henry VIII's break with Catholicism, when it was dissolved like many others across England. Only the storehouse of the priory remains, but the Coldham Commons continues to this day though some of the grazing land has been converted to football pitches and a nice recreational park. 

  This afternoon I get to attend a production meeting via Skype and I could not be happier about it. We are having a great time in England but it doesn't mean I don't miss my job back home. Luckily the Gettysburg Theatre department is the best and has made is possible for me to do the costume designs for this Fall's production of "The 25th Annual Putnam Country Spelling Bee" remotely. The show is contemporary so most of the costumes will be pulled or ready-made purchased items organized by a handful of my student workers. I have also outlined a few items to be built and, so far, they have all been willing to take on their assignments. Fingers crossed that it continues to run smoothly.

VIII - Impressive Levels of Incompetence in the Most Prestigious University Town

Zipline on the way to school

As you may suspect from the title of this week's blog it will probably not share the same cheery sentiments that my previous posts have had (though I will still include some fun pictures from the week). Apologies in advance but I am most definitely writing this particular edition as a way to vent the frustrations of my day- otherwise I would just be staring off into space, unable to concentrate on the lovely commission that sits unfinished on my desk.
 In a previous post I described the school admissions process here in Cambridgeshire and its central Admissions Team which doles out placements to students. We went through the standard school admissions process and were allocated spots at Abbey Meadows school by said Admissions Team. Enclosed in the placement letter were instructions for acceptance which simply stated that parents must call the school or email it when it is school holiday time. Since it was the summer break when we received our placements I followed the email course of action. I did not hear back from the school but this did not strike me as a problem as we had the official placement letter.

Splashpad on the
way to school

  Last week I decided that I should call the school to try to arrange a school tour. No one was in the office at the time I called and so I left a message as instructed. Monday this week I still had not heard from the school and so I called again. This time reaching a human I was able to reiterate our placement acceptance and ask for a tour. The very kind administrative assistant said that she could not find our placement letters but would call me back. No one called me back and so on Tuesday, the day before school was scheduled to start, I called again. Again a very nice person handled my call and said that the boys would not be able to start Wednesday (today) but that we could come in for a tour that afternoon.
  Just hours before the boys and I set out for our tour I received a call from the school saying that the Admissions Team had made a mistake and that there were in fact no places at the school for my kids. This kind Abbey Meadows employee said that the Admissions Team had owned up to the mistake and were working on correcting it and that we could still come for the tour but she doubted that the boys would be going to school there. I agreed to come for the tour just because we had no other plans today and the kids are just itching to go to school, any school at this point.
 Even though I was assured that the Admissions team was "working on the problem" I decided to give them a call anyway. The kind person at Admissions seemed to not know anything about this problem and after conferring with a colleague said that it was a "computer glitch" that would be updated in the afternoon and the school would see that there actually were spots. Feeling reassured though somewhat worried about the competence in the school, we set out over the bridge and through no less than three cattle grates to Abbey Meadows.
 

The Historic Round Church
of Cambridge

The school is nothing special as I had known from its online presence but it and its overgrown landscaping seem good enough for our short-term needs. Ready to relay my information to the school about the apparent "computer glitch" we lined up with the handful of other parents and new students who were there for the tour. We were the only native English speakers in the bunch and I was gleeful to imagine that it was going to feel like an international school.
  Enter nervous-looking school employee. This poor soul had to break it to three out of the four families on the tour (including us) that there was physically no space for their kids in the classrooms and that we would have to contact Admissions. Feeling ahead of the game I informed everyone about the results of my phone conversation. The woman almost rolled her eyes and said "Oh is that what they told you"  (obviously some tension here).  She went on to reiterate that they had informed the Admissions council of the space issue and that we would need to take our complaint to them. One woman and her son left immediately, a German family put up a fight and were taken to a private meeting room to talk with the headmaster, and we stood there awkwardly, Leif nearly in tears, until the nervous employee offered to give us a tour anyway.
 On our bike home we stopped at a nearby playground so the day would not be a total loss and so that I could get on the horn to the Admissions team. Once again a kind Admissions employee told me that the school is definitely in the wrong on this one. When I started to complain that I was getting no where with the school, she offered to have her colleague call the school and assured me that if I called the school in thirty minutes that it would be all sorted. Warily I agreed to this plan and called the school thirty minutes later, this time from the grocery.
 No one answered the phone at Abbey Meadows. I freaked out, feeling the solution to this problem slipping through my hands with the quickly approaching end of the work-day. I called the Admissions Team for the third time and gave them the results of their failed plan. Yet again the woman assured me that the problem had been solved and the fact that I did not reach the school did not mean that I could not bring the kids to the school in the morning. At this point I was loosing my cool and basically told her that I did not believe her, stating that I think the school, who can physically count their students, probably had a better idea about what was actually going on here. She trumped me by reminding me that I was not able to reach the school.
  I hung up and called the school again. This time our friendly tour guide answered, could obviously tell that I was distressed and offered to take my number although it was clear she was still under the impression that things had not changed. She said she would call back. She did not.
 

When Kurt got home I spewed this all out in one breath expecting his immediate sympathy. He seemed a bit annoyed with my lack of effectiveness (I do have a bit of a reputation for being a softy on customer service representatives) and took it upon himself to call the Admissions Board which was surprisingly still open. After about twenty minuted of him walking through the same arguments that I had and also getting no where, he hung up, gave me the sympathy I deserved, and made some cocktails.
  The only step we were given to take was to call the school at 8:00 tomorrow and demand that they take our children when I drop them off at 8:30.

 Blech. Ok England you are losing your charm.