picnicking near a pub

we stop at york gardens for a picnic lunch on the way home from school, a bit after noon. tally twirls across the green, practicing her ballet, while joe looks for koi in the pond. i spread the blanket and organize the bits and bobs.

a man wanders into the gardens and joins joe at the pond. i hear the two engaging in conversation. the man guffaws loudly "so you're american." this draws tally away from her pirouettes and toward the pond. she chats up the man as well.

After a bit, all three make their way over to our blanket. at the same time that i smell the beer emanating off this man, joe announces "i've used my good manners and invited him for lunch!" the man immediately plops down on our blanket. i decide to roll with it, and i divvy up the cheese sticks and pb&js. joe and tally revel in the man's attention for the short duration of the lunch. i keep my guard up and wonder just how many pints this man consumed in the short hour the barmy arms - the nearest pub - had been open. i also make a mental note to picnic further away from the pubs.

football in fulham

we adopted fulham as our football club because before we purchased our tickets, it was the home to a few of our favorite american footballers. unfortunately, not now. however, the stadium, called craven cottage, lies off the thames at the edge of bishop park, which is lovely. joe and tally cheer "go you whites!" with the rest of the rowdies and eat enormous, mushy hot dogs.

the aftermath

the only pic from the necessary visit to buckingham palace for "the changing of the guards."



the tube drops us at the green which lies to the left of the palace. joe chases pigeons down the footpath. chris thinks it will be fun for joe and tally to race. he sets them off with a "faster, faster!" joe cuts over into tally's path, she skids face-first along the stones. massive amounts of blood, ripped lip, but teeth intact.



we still proceed to the palace -- joe really wants to see "those soldiers."



turns out the official ceremony cancels with rain, so i find it hard to believe that anyone really gets to witness the official ceremony. but we see a better show, anyway. the metropolitan police shout repeatedly at onlookers to "keep back!" and march them back across the street when they ignore the traffic signals. one brit is having none of that sort of authority and pushes the bobby. a shouting match ensues. we collectively hold our breaths, riveted, waiting for the disorderly to be thrown to the ground and cuffed. but nothing comes of it. the horses and guards come, we marvel at their shiny swords and tall hats, and then it's over. joe is duly impressed.



we purchase the children the requisite police/black taxi/double-decker bus sets from a souvenir kiosk. at home they replay the events of the day with them on the floor of joe's room. as i scrub the blood out of tally's coat and fret about whether i not i should take her to the urgent care for her swollen face, i hear their shouts of "get back! who do you think you are? i'll cross when i want! umph! umph!" their take-away from our day.

greens 1

our street lies within 3/4 mile of no less than five greens, of varying size. a city green is just what it's name implies: a sizable, flat plot of grass carved into the cityscape. our greens exist diversely between major thoroughfares, adjacent to the thames, behind walled gardens, and at the foot of old massive mansions. during our first few weeks here, i found myself nonplussed by these spots, even though school mums would point out to me how fortunate we were to live in such a "leafy" burrough. the kids caught onto their charms right away, however. as soon as we reached one, they sprinted through them wildly, little arms pumping, faces to the wind. imagine a dog tugging at the leash, and upon release, bounding through the grass, tongue a-flapping.

turns out we NEED those spaces. the endless parade of buses and taxis and autos on the high street leave our senses exhausted. the greens provide a necessary respite.

we take bats, balls, balloons, bubbles when we go. i pitch the basball to joe, even though i die a little each time we play. in my fantasy, a man wearing a cubs hat steps out from behind one of the big ol trees that encircle these spaces, and says in a midwestern accent, "we must get that boy into the english baseball school right down this road that serves as a feeder club for chicago. he may pull left, but he's hitting 85% and anticipating the heck out of the ball. he's a natural." and off we go.

so while many british boys joe's age have their first go with a cricket bat, joe swings his baseball bat. it is a gorgeous sight.

on the bus

joe and tally throw elbows instead of forming a proper queue - a habit formed in the non-queueing netherlands - to get these seats immediately behind the driver and a red REQUEST STOP button.

we use the bus nearly every day. the children relish the experience, but i tire of the richmond "diversion" -a lovely word for "detour" - which runs thru early november and lengthens a five-minute commute to nearly twenty. even when we choose to walk instead of ride, the children play a game in which they tear down the street crying "here it comes -- our bus, our bus!" and then suddenly stop and sigh, "phew, we made it." fortunately, this sometimes shortens a twenty-minute walking commute to an almost five-minute one.

outside the white swan pub on a rugby saturday.

evertson and i both experience football-saturday-in-columbus-ohio flashbacks. beer and high spirits both in abundance.


the kids dig for treasure on the thames bank while evertson and i indulge in a few pints. later, chris and joe throw stones in the river.

we feel a bit nostalgic on this day.