Ken, the Cumbrian Handyman

One of the biggest struggles in moving to Maryport is transitioning from home owners to renters. Back home, if something broke, wore out, or needed to be changed, we fixed it ourselves. (Of course, by “we,” I mean Matt.) The lag time between need and excecution was always, at most, two or three days. If the garbage disposal broke, for example, Matt was at Home Depot the next day buying a replacement, and then he’d install it on the weekend. Simple as that.

Now, as renters, we have to deal with something completely foreign to us…. The Handyman.

Mark, our landlord, lives fairly far away from Maryport. In his place, he’s hired Ken the Cumbrian Handyman to take care of all of the projects around the house that need fixing. So, whenever we notice something around here that needs to be worked on, we have to go through Ken.

This is a really old house, and there are a lot of things that need to be worked on. Ergo, we see a lot of Ken.

We met Ken on the very first night we moved to Maryport. It was 8 in the evening, and Matt, Frankie, and I had just driven five hours up from Bristol. We were just getting ready to put Frankie to bed when Ken decided to pop by. A few weeks have passed and my memory is a little fuzzy on why exactly he decided to stop by. What I can definitively say, though, is that he was here for at least an hour, and he left without actually working on anything. Ken basically just breezed over to the house, opened the door with his key, and strolled right in.

At this first meeting, Ken introduced himself, started talking, and never really stopped until he finally decided to leave. Ken is a real presence in a house. He’s not an especially big guy, but he stands uncomfortably close when he talks to you, and speaks at about twice the volume of a normal person. As he walked out the door, he shouted, “Don’t worry! You’ll be seeing a lot of me!” Of course, Ken also has a thick, almost impossible-to-decipher accent, so this phrase sounded more like, “Duntcha wor. Ye’ll a-be-seein a lo’ morra meh!”

This meant one of two things, neither of which appealed to me, and both of which ended up being true:

1) We’ll be seeing a lot more of him because there are tons of things around here that tend to break down

2) We’ll be seeing a lot more of him because he plans on popping by constantly

One of the most disorienting things about moving to a small town in another country is that you suddenly have no idea how to gage the behavior of the people that you meet. Matt and I find ourselves constantly wondering what constitutes “normal” around here. There’s really no way of knowing if the things we find unusual about the people we meet are actually odd, or just English. We don’t really know what the acceptable standards of behavior are for England, or even for small-town life, for that matter. Both of those things are totally new to us, and we’re constantly having to ask ourselves, “Is it just me, or did that seem weird?”

With Ken, this is a big problem.

Ken is an over-the-top, eccentric character. He seems plucked right from some sort of Fawlty-Towers-esque sitcom. He’s the British Dwane F. Schneider.

That might seem like a charming comparison, but seriously… Imagine that you actually had to interact with Dwane F. Schneider. The fun wears off pretty quickly.

He’s loud, hard to understand, and treats the house like he’s the owner, not the handyman. Since that first night, he’s consistently popped by unannounced, just letting himself in with his key. Actually, since we’ve moved in, Ken’s stopped by almost every day. The only days that he hasn’t come by the house are the days in which we’ve specifically asked him to come over and fix something. On those days, he never shows up, and never calls or explains his absence. He’ll just magically appear in the kitchen two days later, telling me to make him a cup of coffee. And fixing nothing.

So, the problem has been... How do you find a balance between acceptable American standards of behavior, and what's appropriate here in Maryport? Is it acceptable to take two weeks to fix a shower out here? Is the pop-in visit normal? Is it considered ok to walk into someone else's home without calling? Are we the ones that have inappropriate expectations?

It's so frustrating, especially when moving to a new community and not wanting to try our best to fit in.

Mostly, I’ve started to realize that Ken’s personality and my personality create a very, very, bad dynamic. He’s kind of a blowhard, and I’m outwardly too polite to confront him on his behavior. Outside, I’m smiling but inside I’m seething. The other day, he came over and showed me off-color jokes that someone had texted to his cell phone. One was a racist joke about President Obama, and the other was about a “retard sex maniac.” Then, he pulled out a sandwich, grabbed a plate from the cupboard, and proceeded to eat lunch at my kitchen table. When he was done, he left all of his trash behind for me to clean up. (He seems to think that, as the lady of the house, it’s my job to serve him?)

It made me so angry, that I wanted to punch someone. But I didn’t. And I’m really mad at myself for not being more forceful with him. But, I kept thinking that I didn’t want to offend this man… After all, he claims to be the “King of Maryport.” Who am I to argue with small-town royalty?

It’s clear now, though, that I’m going to have to start building some stronger boundaries with Ken. It’s in my nature to be nice and accommodating, but there’s a limit. And he’s reached it.

Back from Bath

It's been an extremely busy, but extremely fun few days.

Matt, Frankie, and I picked up Matt's mother Jo from the Manchester airport on Saturday morning. After a happy reunion, we piled back in the car and drove three hours down to the city of Bath. The four of us stayed at an adorable bed and breakfast for three days, and toured all around the city. We had a terrific time... Bath was absolutely beautiful.

I'll post more details soon...

(This is all of us on a double decker bus. I snapped the photo using the reflection from a window.)

Culture Shock: British Food

England has a reputation for having terrible food. I wonder, though, how much of that reputation is deserved, and how much is due to the bizarre names that they give to some of their traditional dishes?

“Bubble and Squeak,” for example sounds weird, right? In reality, it’s just mashed potatoes with a very small quantity of cheese and cabbage (or whatever other vegetable you like) mixed in. Not scary at all, and actually quite delicious.

Here’s a list of British foods taken from a blog called “The Accidental Hedonist.” They’ve done a great job of cataloging some of the weirdest food names you'll run across in England.

• Aberdeen Nips

• Beef Cecils

• Black Pudding

• Bubble and Squeak

• Clapshot

• Cullen Skink

• Dean's Cream

• Fitless Cock

• Flummery

• Girdle Sponges

• Hob Nobs

• Huffkins

• Hunter's Buns

• Love in Disguise

• Inky Pinky

• Knickerbocker Glory

• Marmite

• Priddy Oggies

• Scouse

• Singing Hinnies

• Slot

• Spotted Dick

• Toad-in-the-hole

• Wet Nelly

• Wow-Wow Sauce

What does that all mean? Here’s the translation:

• Aberdeen Nips - Smoked haddock on toast

• Beef Cecils - Meatballs

• Black Pudding - A sausage made with blood.

• Bubble and Squeak - A potato and cabbage mixture traditionally served with cold meat from the Sunday roast, and pickles. The name comes from the sounds it makes whilst in the oven.

• Clapshot - Mashed Potatoes and Turnips with chives and lard

• Cullen Skink - Fish-and-potato soup from the northeast of Scotland

• Dean's Cream - Spongecake, jam, whipped cream and fruit

• Fitless Cock - Oatmeal pudding made in the shape of a chicken

• Flummery - A pudding made with lemon, yolks and Brandy

• Girdle Sponges - Fried sponge cakes

• Hob Nobs - Mass produced oat biscuits, some of which are coated with chocolate

• Huffkins - Bread rolls made with milk

• Hunter's Buns - Oatmeal biscuits

• Love in Disguise - Stuffed, baked calf heart

• Inky Pinky - A gravy made with leftover beef bits and stock

• Knickerbocker Glory - A dessert made with ice cream, meringue, fruits, whipped cream and alcohol

• Marmite - A spread made from yeast extract. Matt loves this, and eats it on toast every morning. (Personally, I can't even stand the smell of it.)

• Priddy Oggies - Pork and cheese pastry

• Scouse - Mutton stew mixed with hardtack

• Singing Hinnies - Currant cake

• Slot - Cod Roe Dumplings

• Spotted Dick - suet pudding containing dried fruit, either raisins or currants

• Toad-in-the-hole - Sausages in Yorkshire pudding mix, served with vegetables and gravy

• Wet Nelly - A pudding made of suet, bread and spices.

• Wow-Wow Sauce - Pickled walnut gravy

Here’s one of my own discovery. Can you imagine browsing through the supermarket and stumbling across this?

Dearham Gal

We've finally decided on a school for Frankie. Starting April 12, she'll be attending Dearham School.

I hope we made the right choice!

In the end, we decided to go with Dearham because people from the area seem to have a pretty high opinion of the school. Also, Frankie was so much better behaved around the kids and teachers at Dearham, I couldn't help but think that on some level she must have felt more comfortable there.

As for me, it's going to be tough figuring out how to drive to Dearham. The school is in the middle of nowhere, down a long and ridiculously narrow country lane. The road is so small that two cars won't fit on it at the same time, and there are lots of blind turns where you can't see what's coming up around the bend. During the school day, the street (called "The Went") is what they call "voluntary one-way." Basicaly, that means that during school hours Dearham would like the road to be considered a one-way street, but technically it's not enforceable. Most parents will follow the rules, I'm sure. The farmers in the area... Well, apparently they don't necessarily adhere to the system.

I imagne that there is going to be a lot of white-knuckled driving in my future.

Culture Shock: The Hypnotoad

It's taken a lot to get used to the noise our new shower makes. They have a “masticator” in all of the shower drains here, and it goes off automatically at periodic intervals whenever water is draining. Essentially, it’s like a giant garbage disposal underneath the shower that flips on every minute or so. It sounds something like this:

GOOOOOOERRRRRRRRRRRRROWWW!!!

Actually, it sounds exactly like the “hypnotoad” from Futurama. So much so that Matt and I have taken to formally referring to the shower as "The Hypnotoad." As in, "Hey... I'm going to visit The Hypnotoad, and I'll be down for breakfast in a few minutes."

The Hypnotoad:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w94GQyLqfIM

It's certainly an invigorating noise. Really wakes you up in the morning. (And pretty much everyone else in the house, too. That thing is loud.)

What I find most strange is that although they've incorported garbage disposals into the showers here, almost no one in England has a garbage disposal in the kitchen sink. If they have the technology to incorporate garbage disposals within the showers, why don’t they put them in the sinks as well??

Puzzling, indeed.

Busy, Busy, Busy!

We're all in a flurry of activity over here, trying to get the house ready for our first visitor.

Grandma Jo will be hopping on a plane and heading over to see us on Saturday. She'll be staying for a whole week. We're so excited!!

I had a schedule of activities and day trips for the week all planned, but this morning Matt found out that he was going to be called back to Bristol for a meeting on Monday. So, now we're scrambling to re-plan Jo's visit to incorporate travelling down south for a few days.

This upcoming weekend is a holiday weekend in the UK (everyone gets Friday and Monday off for Easter), so we're having a devil of a time finding a hotel. If all goes well, though, we'll be staying in Bath on Saturday, Sunday, and Monday nights.

I hope Jo's up for an adventure!

Matt's First Post

Well although it is nice to read about oneself in the blog I suppose it is about time I posted myself. Tif is hard to compete with in this area but I will do my best.

All in all it has been a pretty successful first couple of weeks. I feel like we have a never ending checklist of things to take care of but we are soldiering on and getting a lot of stuff taken care of. I feel like our life has been running at double speed since we decide to make the move but it feels like it is slowing down marganially at home now that we are settled in more.

So far work has been going well but it has been very busy and with all the other stuff going on I feel stretched a bit thin but it is all exciting stuff so it is good kind of stretched thin. I am starting to feel like this big old house is a little bit more like home. I was very frustrating to have to clean out every drawer and find a random assortment of crap but it is almost all downstairs now which feels a lot better.

I think the whole experience has forced everyone out of the normal routines which is mostly a good thing. I find myself trying to make friends with the neihbors (which I would never do back home) and having to do something new everyday (getting a bank account, getting school set up, getting a national health service number, and so forth). I feel like we can do anything now.

It has also been fun to have such a international adventure with the whole family. I have been travelling so much the last few years that I am sort of used to it but it was always very separate from my life back at home. It makes it a lot more fun when we are all in it together.

I will try to post every so often just to make sure everyone doesn't think I am a figment of Tif's imagination.

CH-CH-CH-CH-Changes

After the massive IKEA trip on Saturday, we spent the day putting everything away and re-arranging the house. I wouldn’t say that the entire house has been drastically transformed. A lot of the rooms (kitchen, guest room, living room, dining room) look pretty much the same, just cleaner. Frankie’s bedroom, playroom, and Matt’s office, though, are all quite a bit different. In all of those rooms, we moved furniture out, added some of our own décor, and ran major de-cluttering projects. I don’t think we’re going to be on HGTV’s “Design Star” any time soon, but it’s definitely much better (and more functional) in here.

First, here’s Frankie’s revised bedroom. It actually looks like a girl lives here now!

BEFORE:

AFTER:

Now, here’s the biggest change… the playroom!

BEFORE:

AFTER:

The hallway is now totally de-cluttered:

And our bedroom has new a new (non-squeaky) bed and new linens:

Most of the rooms just have minor changes, like this bathroom where we covered up the sketchy carpet with a new rug:

Matt’s office is actually much different. Before, you could hardly walk into the room. There were two enormous, overstuffed armchairs from the 1980s in here, which we took out and swapped for the organ. (Matt loves organs!) We got rid of the junky foosball table (which Frankie, mercifully, seems to have forgotten about), added a rug, added a more modern lamp, and moved out boxes and boxes of clutter. I know that it doesn’t look like much from the pictures, but trust me… It’s 1,000 times better in here. It’s actually very pleasant to read a book or sit by the fire in here.

BEFORE:

AFTER:

So, it’s feeling much more like *our* place now. For me, one of the biggest reliefs is finally having the house reasonably kid-proofed. With all of the clutter in the drawers before, I was somewhat panicked at the thought of all of the dangerous things that Frankie could get her hands on: Knives, matches, chemical solvents, decanturs of brandy, wire cutters, hammers, you name it, it was in an easily accessible toddler-level drawer or cabinet. I feel much better now about letting Frankie loose in the house. Matt even kid-proofed the window in her bedroom, a hazard that literally give me nightmares the first night we were here. (Who, I ask you, puts a kid’s bed against a second-story window with no screen or lock? Madness!)

With all of that accomplished, Frankie and I are treating ourselves to a lazy day today. Don’t know how the heck Matt manages to go to work and concentrate on all of his clients and projects after all being all of these long days of sorting, socializing, and planning things at home. At this point, I can barely summon the energy to make a sandwich, let alone organize nuclear cleanup. He’s amazing.

School Dilemma

Yesterday, we took Frankie to visit two schools in the area: Deerham School, and Ewenrigg Infant School. The children here will be on Easter break for the next few weeks, so Frankie will be starting at one of the schools on April 12.

We’re not sure yet which of the schools to choose. Matt likes the Deerham school, and I’m leaning towards Ewenrigg. The decision would be so much easier if one of the schools was noticably better than the other. Really, they're just different, each with their own strengths and weaknesses.

This is Ewenrigg:

Ewenrigg is the closest school, but only by a small margin. It’s right off the main road into the town center of Maryport, and is located in a residential area. The building isn’t terribly impressive from the outside, but on the inside everything looked clean, bright, and well-organized. When we visited, though, most of the children had already left for the day, so I’m sure things are a bit more chaotic when the kids are there.

The Ewenrigg school reminds me of a pretty standard US pre-school, which is probably why I like it. The principal there isn’t necessarily gushy-mushy friendly, but I actually liked her very straightforward approach. (I thought it was very easy to talk to her and ask her questions.)

One of the main distinguishing features of the Ewenrigg school is its size. The Ewenrigg school is small. There would only be ten other kids in Frankie’s class, and there are only 60 kids in the school as a whole. (Is this a good thing or a bad thing? It’s really hard to say.) Ewenrigg emphasizes parent participation, and has loads of after-school actities: movie night, a gardening club, and so forth. We didn’t get a chance to meet Frankie’s potential teacher, though, because she was already gone for the day. She and the principal (or “Mistress,” as they say here) are actually going to stop by the house on Wednesday to visit with Frankie. This home visit is something the school does for all new children, in the hopes that it will establish a link between home and school for the kids.

Deerham was an interesting place, too. They were very friendly and welcoming here, and Matt and I both absolutely loved the pre-school teacher. When we walked in the door, the Mistress (who was very warm and kind) immediately took Frankie’s hand and walked her back to the classroom so she could play with the other kids and meet the teacher. Frankie seemed to feel right at home at this school, and had a great time visiting with all of the kids. (The other kids swarmed around Frankie. Americans, I think, are a bit of a rarity around here.)

Deerham is in an old stone building at the end of a long, twisty, and terrifyingly narrow country lane. To me, Deerham seemed friendlier, but a less orderly and modern than Ewenrigg. The inside was a little less bright and open than Ewenrigg, due to the fact that the building itself is very old. It was built in 1874, the same year that our Maryport house was built. From the outside, actually, Deerham looks really similar to our house.

Here's Deerham:

At the Deerham school, there would be thrity kids in Frankie's class. There is one head teacher and one (or two, depending on the day) teaching assistants. The school itself has right around 200 students enrolled throughout all of the different grades.

One of the things that’s complicating the decision is the fact that Frankie seemed to be so much better behaved at the Deerham school. We visited Ewenrigg second, and she was totally bored and squirmy the whole time. At Deerham, she seemed more engaged. Maybe that was because Deerham was the first scool we saw, and because she actually got to be around the kids at Deerham?

Honestly, I think either would be fine. It’s just hard to make a decision. I think I’ll be able to choose once I meet with the teacher from the Ewenrigg school on Wednesday.

Interesting note: Both schools require uniforms for the kids. That will definitely take some getting used to!

Major hurdle: Crossed!

Huzzah! I actually figured out how to use the British telephone, explain the location of the house, and have a pizza delivered!! I’m feeling pretty awesome right about now.

Pardon me while I strut…

Posting Power

I just opened the blog up so that Matt can also post here as an author. Be on the lookout for his first post soon...

Who's on first?

One of the projects we worked on this past weekend was making all of the bedrooms upstairs more comfy for sleeping. Sounds simple, but the execution was insanely confusing.

As we cleaned up the house, we unearthed an unbelievable amount of sheets and comforter covers. Seriously mind-boggling. Conservatively, I’d estimate that we found maybe fifty sheets, and twenty comforter covers. None of these were useable for more than a few days, though, because:

a) Nothing matched

b) Nothing seemed to fit the beds properly

c) We found tons of comforter covers, but not enough actual comforters to cover the beds

d) Everything was old, musty, and frankly… I really can’t stand the idea of sleeping on someone else’s sheets.

In order to get the bedding problem sorted, we first had to figure out the bed situation.

There are four bedrooms upstairs. Two are very small, and two are very big. On the first night, Frankie chose one of the big bedrooms for herself (the room actually has two beds in it, a big one and a small one), and Matt and I took the other bedroom.

We only need three bedrooms, though: One for Frankie, one for me and Matt, and one for guests. This meant that we needed to get rid of a bed from one of the small bedrooms in one in order to turn it into a playroom. Frankie’s room (bedroom 1) had two beds in it: a kids bed and a large bed. The Master bedroom (bedroom 2) had a large bed. The guest room (bedroom 3) had a medium-sized bed. The extra room (bedroom 4) also had a medium-sized bed. Bedroom 4 was far and away the most unpleasant and cluttered of the bedrooms. Since it was to awful to ever function as a comfortable guest room, it became the only logical choice for the playroom.

So, the solution seems simple, right? Just take the bed out of bedroom 4 and move it to the basement, leaving everything else as is. But, there was a problem. Even though the bed in the master bedroom was big, it was totally unusable. Why? The bed frame was astonishingly, ridiculously squeaky. And I’m not just being a overly-sensitive princess here. Even Matt said it was too squeaky to sleep on. I believe his exact words were, “An engineering class should come over here and study this bed frame as an example of how to build something that squeaks as loudly as possible.” Round here, we started to refer to the bed as “Ol’ Squeaky.” As in, “Which one of us is going to have to sleep on Ol’ Squeaky tonight? Not me!”

So, the frame in the master bedroom had to go. We needed to replace it with the biggest possible bed, because Matt and I are not the kind of married folks that like to sleep spooned together. We like our own space. Bigger is better. We’d push together two California King beds and sleep on those if it was socially acceptable. (Or, if we thought we could find sheets that would fit.)

Other than the master bedroom, the only other room that had a big bed in it was Frankie’s room. There was no way that Frankie was going to switch rooms with us. So, we needed to move Frankie’s big bed into our master bedroom. To accomplish this and to get the other bedrooms to a functioning state, we had to do the following:

1) Take out the master bed and move it two floors down into the basement.

2) Move the big bed from Frankie’s room into the master bedroom.

3) Move the double bed from bedroom 4 (which, remember, was going to become a playroom?) into Frankie’s room.

The only room that got to keep its original bed was the guest room (bedroom 3). That one, we didn’t touch.

Confused yet? It gets worse.

Keep in mind that we did the IKEA shopping trip on Saturday, before we had executed all of this bed shuffling. Sure, we had already decided what we were going to do, but it was all hypothetical at that point. When we went to IKEA, then, we had to decide what size linens and comforter covers we needed for the house.

It was way more complicated than you might imagine. It was like a headache-inducing story problem from a high school math textbook.

To recap:

There were five beds upstairs: One kids bed, two medium-sized beds, two large beds. One of the large beds had to be taken away, leaving behind one large bed, two medium beds, and one kids bed. We already had a plain white down comforter for the large bed, but no sheets or comforter cover. We had nothing for either of the medium-sized beds. For the kids bed, we already had a plain down comforter, but no sheets or comforter cover.

So, what did we need to buy?

Seems like we could probably wrap our heads around that problem. BUT, now you have to factor in the following complication: UK bed sizing.

In the UK, all of the beds are sized differently than in the US. So much so that we had to consult a conversion chart online before heading to IKEA. In the US, the biggest bed size is a king. In the UK, they also call the biggest bed size available a “king,” but it’s actually not the same size as a US king. A UK king is the same as a US queen.

Furthermore…

There’s no such thing as a “queen size” bed in Europe. After a UK king, the next largest bed size in the UK is a “double.” (It’s somewhat similar to what we call a “full-size” bed in the US.) A kids bed, which we call a “twin” in the US is called a “single” over here.

So, as Matt and I were talking through what we needed in the bedrooms, we kept slipping back and forth between the names for US and UK sizes, and kept getting all discombobulated.

Now, the next complication:

IKEA is a Swedish company, so they don’t label with US or UK sized on the bedding packages. They just put measurements on the package, in inches and centimeters. So, we had to check out all of the packages by size, compare them with UK bed measurements, remember not to confuse ourselves with the difference between US and UK sizes, and work around the bedding that we already had.

Lastly, factor in the fact that IKEA was insanely busy, and the linen section was the very last stop of our shopping trip. We were exhausted, surrounded by people, and totally confused as to what we needed.

It took forever and all of our brain power, but somehow we did it. Which is a god thing, because IKEA was two hours away, and it wouldn’t exactly be convenient to run back to the store and make changes to what we ended up buying.

It cracks me up now, thinking of Matt and I sitting on the floor of IKEA, bleary-eyed, trying to piece together the bedding puzzle. At the time, though, it was totally stressful.

Busy Day, Tired Me

Matt and I had a crazy busy day today.We moved furniture, de-cluttered cabinets, assembled  IKEA furniture, re-organized rooms, and put away everything we bought on our massive shopping trip yesterday. We started work right after breakfast, and worked all the way through until evening.

I'm exhausted.

The place looks great, though. Much better than when we moved in. The best addition is the playroom for Frankie. It's a fantastic place for her to be able to play. I'm really happy with how it turned out.

Maybe I'll snap a few pictures tomorrow?

England: Where sandwiches are king.

This is going to sound weird, but one of the best things about England is the sandwiches.

Not restaurant sandwiches. Grocery store sandwiches.

When you walk into a grocery store, right by the door is always a huge selection of boxed fresh sandwiches: Anything from a classic BLT to brie and chutney. Some of the choices are seriously weird. Bacon and butter sandwiches, for example, are really popular here. But every single sandwich I’ve tried has been, without exception, delicious. I’m totally obsessed with them.

Back home, I can't imagine ever popping in to a 7-11 to buy a sandwich. But here, every time I pass a convenience store I think, " Mmmmmm...... I wonder if they have sandwiches."

All Shopped Out

Today was a really busy day for us. We drove two hours east to Newcastle to check the area and do some much-needed shopping for the house. We stopped by Toys-R-Us to get a few things for Frankie's playroom, and even picked up a bicycle for Frankie. It's shiny and hot pink, and has training wheels on the back. It also has a long handle attached to the rear so that Matt or I could actually steer the bike for her from behind. She's so excited, and is feeling very grown up.

The major shopping destination of the day was IKEA. We needed all kinds of new bed linens, a coffee table, lamps, rugs... There was a three-page list of about a million things that we needed. Well, maybe *needed* isn't the right word. Really, I just wanted some new things. For example: Yes, it's possible for me to sleep on some of the old sheets that were left behind by the owner of our house. I could force myself to do it if I had to. Still, I'll never be really comfortable unless I'm sleeping with brand new sheets and under a new comforter. I like to know where my sheets and towels have been before they touch my skin. I guess I'm just finicky like that.

So, after spending an obscene amount of time and money at IKEA, we were left with the seemingly impossible task of loading all of the purchases into our small British car. We had one shopping cart filled to the brim with an assortment of household items, three big rugs, and a trolly loaded up with the kits for the coffee table, lamp, and kid's furniture.

Matt must have been a mighty good Tetris player as a kid, because he packed that car up like a total professional. It was really pretty amazing. I didn't think there was any way that everything would fit, but he did it and made it all look organized. Check it out... isn't it glorious?

On a side note, I wanted to say that Frankie was really terrific today. Even though it was a full day of shopping, she never complained once. She even got a special treat of playing at IKA's "Smalland" play center. It's an on-site babysitting center where staff watch the kids while the parents shop. I was worried that she would be a little nervous being all by herself in a new place, but she totally loved it. After her hour of playtime was up, she wanted to go right back in. She said it was the shortest hour ever.

I honestly can't believe how well Frankie's adapting to all of this change and activity. It seems like as long as we're busy doing something, she's happy. Even when we're home taking a break from all of the outings, she seems content. She'll quietly draw or play a game, or watch a little British tv. (She's in love with a British kids show called "Mr. Make It," where the host explains how to do kids craft projects.)

I think we keep her so busy with all of the errands and sightseeing, that when we're home she just wants a little quiet time. This is a nice change for me. It gives me a chance to get some work done around the house, read, or do a little writing. This is a far cry from Colorado Frankie, who used to follow me around the house all day long demanding that I play a game with her.

Speaking of quiet time, I think I'll call it a night. I'm completely exhausted from walking around that huge IKEA store all day, and have a busy day ahead of me putting away all of our goodies. By the end of the day tomorrow, I predict that Matt's going to be an allen wrench expert.

The Great Outdoors

The location of the new house is a bit remote, but you really can't beat the scenery. From the living room, we can see a green pasture sloping all the way down to Maryport in the distance. Beyond that is the Irish Sea. At night, the view is especially amazing... We're at the top of a hill, and can see all of the city lights below us. It is, in a word, epic.

The outside of the house is really lovely as well. The house is at the end of a twisty dirt road. On the way there, though, there is a row of five connected (or "semi-detached," as they say over here) homes. They're all made from the same stone that our house is built from, and I wouldn't be surprised if they were all at one time part of the same estate.

Below is the view from our front door.

Now, here's a shot of Frankie posing outside of our front door.

There are lots of big, beautiful trees in the yard.

There's also a wonderful little meadow filled with spring flowers.

My favorite is this cool twisty tree.

We even have a front gate!

She does make a good point about fish, though.

My big plan for today was to walk down to the aquarium in the Maryport harbor. It’s a bit of a hike to get there… Probably four miles there, four miles back. But, the skies were blue and the adventurous spirit had overtaken me, so off we went.


On the way there, I revealed to Frankie that we would be going to the aquarium. I expected excitement. Instead, she looked at me, sighed an exasperated sigh, and said, “Uggggh! I don’t want to go to the aquarium, mom. FISH ARE BORING.”

Her lack of enthusiasm certainly dulled my gusto for the outing, especially since it was such a hike to get there. So, I decided to dally in the town square, stopping into a cute little shop that specialized in linens. We need new sheets and towels, so I thought that might be a great place to start my shopping.

After looking at towels, duvet covers, and curtains for about fifteen minutes, Frankie turned to me and said (in that same exasperated tone), “Ugggggh! MOM. When are we going to get to the aquarium??”

Me: “I thought you said that fish are boring?”

Frankie: “NOT AS BORING AS THIS!!”

The Twin Passions of the Kirkborough House

There are two things that the people that own this house seem to enjoy:

1) Antique clocks

2) Fake flower arrangements

I can get behind the clock collection. There must be at least thirty of them in the house, four of which are old-school grandfather clocks. They’re all heavy and wooden, and probably date anywhere from 1900-1940. They’re not necessarily my style, but I actually kind of like them. They have personality. Plus, being a collector myself, I understand the collecting impulse. So, I’m good with the clocks.

The flowers are another story.

When I cleaned out the kitchen on Tuesday, I pulled out no fewer than seven separate fake plants and fake flower arrangements. In my bedroom there are five more. On the stairwell, there are five. I’m looking at three in the computer room right now. Come to think of it, there isn’t a single room in the house (bathrooms included) that’s free from the plastic menace of the fake floral arrangements.

They all have to go. Immediately.

I’ve begun the exhaustive process of boxing them all up and relocating them to the basement. For whatever reason, Frankie seems to think they’re pretty (she’s wrong), so I might have to compromise and keep one or two of them around for her benefit. If I had my way, though, I’d be having a mighty bonfire tomorrow and tossing them all on top of it, Fahrenheit 451-style.

Where's Waldo: Plant edition. There are five fake plants/flower arrangements in each picture. Can you find them all?

Our New Address

If anyone would like our new address and UK phone number, send me an email and I'll make sure you get it.

My email address is:

tiffany.myers@comcast.net

I don't have a UK cell phone yet, but I'm planning to get one this Saturday. When get my text messaging up and running, I'll be one happy gal.

Matt Gets Wired

Matt got his picture taken for Wired magazine Tuesday! I was still asleep when he left for the shoot, so I didn’t get a chance to micro-manage his wardrobe choice, which KILLED me.

Matt said that the shoot was very professional, complete with all kinds of fancy lighting equipment. They took the picture here at his UK office.

Fun fact about Matt: He’s a good sport about getting his picture taken, but only for about five minutes. Any amount of time over that, and he’s a little bit like a nine-year-old kid at a wallpaper store: bored, bored, bored. So, the shoot took a fairly long time and tried his patience a little, but I think the experience, overall, was fun for him. I mean, who wouldn’t enjoy a professional photo shoot least a little? It’s not every day that you get to be fussed over like a celebrity.

We still have no idea what exactly the article about him says, or what the specific focus is going to be. (Wired won’t let the subject of an article read or proofread the text before press. It’s their standard policy.) That’s a little scary, but we’ll just have to trust the writer. The article is being written by my brother’s friend Josh, and he’s a really good guy. He’s a talented writer, too. Josh has been at the helm of two independent newspapers in Fort Collins, and now makes a living at a freelance writer. He and Matt probably never would have hooked up if it hadn’t been for The Dove. Dovey was at a party and ran into Josh. They got to talking, and Josh mentioned that he was looking for story ideas. Dove said, Man… You should meet my brother-in-law! You wouldn’t believe his job… The rest, as they say, is history.


I can’t wait to read the article. I honestly don’t even know when the piece is coming out, but when it does I’ll let everyone know.

I'm very excited for him, though, and proud of everything he's accomplished. I remember when he used to have hair down to his shoulders, lived in a group house with three other guys, ate ramen at least three times a week, and drove a 1978 Lincoln "Mark 5" Continental. Ah, how times have changed.

The Excavation Begins

There is definitely an eclectic assortment of furniture and knick knacks here. I used to watch the A& E show Hoarders before it gave me the urge to purge everything I own and live in a stark white room, free from all furnishings and knick knacks. If you haven’t seen it, it’s a show about people with obsessive hoarding disorder. They live their lives surrounded by piles of old newspapers, every piece of junk mail they've received since the 80s, unopened boxes of stuff ordered from the home shopping network, piles of clothes stacked up to the ceiling… you name it, they’ve stashed it away somewhere.


There’s a little bit of that disorder here, creeping in at the edges. Just about every surface, every drawer, every cabinet is stuffed to the gills with stuff.

Here's a glimpse at the clutter problem. Look at the picture above. From right to left (more or less) you'll see: an unopened bottle of liquor, a ceramic pot with a screwdriver in it,  four empty crystal decanters, a broken and reassembled taper candle, a china dish filled with incense, a metal bottle containing some sort of sensual oil, a crystal tray with four (empty) perfume bottles on it, a cheap decorative plastic plate, another taper candle, an antique silver cream and sugar set, and my personal favorite, a fake flower arrangement in a vase filled with old Christmas lights.

Above: A typical drawer interior.

The surface clutter problem seems manageable. Everything I don't want, I can just box up and move to the basement. But to be honest, I had a bit of a mini-meltdown on Monday night when I started opening drawers and realized the extent of the problem. I guess I assumed that the owners would have come in and cleaned everything out before we moved in. And to an extent, they did. The fridge was spotless, the floors looked good (or as good as possible in a hundred and fifty year old house), the chest of drawers and wardrobes in the bedrooms were mostly cleaned out, and the surfaces (though cluttered) were all dust-free. But beyond that, though, if you open up a door, you’re going to see it crammed full with bunches and bunches of disorganized knick knacks and personal items. You know that secret “junk drawer” that everyone seems to have somewhere in their house? Well, imagine that EVERY drawer here has, over the years, become a junk drawer.

I can see how it happened. This place was a bed and breakfast before we got here and, bed and breakfasts or rental houses tend to accumulate little pieces of all the people that stayed there.

Example:

Let’s say a family rents the B & B for a reunion weekend. They buy their favorite spices for cooking in the kitchen, and bottles of wine and spirits for celebrating. At the end of the weekend, they have half a bottle of gin left, and a container of mostly unused red pepper flakes. The thought is: Why throw this stuff away? It’s perfectly good! I’ll just leave it for the next family to enjoy…

But here’s the rub: NO ONE wants a stranger’s used food. You’d have to be the most desperate of binge drinkers to want to drink a cheap, opened, half-empty bottle of wine that you found stashed away in a cabinet. Ditto an opened package of individually-wrapped cheese slices, or whatever other culinary artifact you might run across.

If everyone leaves a little something behind for the next family, and no one that arrives new to the place wants anything to do with the old food, you can see how that problem would quickly spiral out of control. I found packages of unopened gravy mix in the upper reaches of the cabinets that expired in 2004. (2004??!)

But it’s difficult to throw away unused food… It feels wasteful, I suppose. But here’s my plea to anyone that’s ever rented a house for an extended period of time: Get over it! Either throw your castoffs out, bring them home with you, or donate them to the local food bank. Stop turning the cabinets into a Food Museum, I beg you.

So, the problem of leftover food in the kitchen has translated to similar problem of leftover junk throughout the house. Junior bought a Pokemon video game for his handheld Nintendo DS system, and finished up the game during his stay? Why not leave the game behind for some other kid to play when he’s here? Never mind the fact that probably no other kid will stay here for months, and that the chance of that kid bringing a DS system is woefully slim, let alone the infinitesimal chances that the kid will bring his DS system and like Pokemon and have not already played that particular game.

But once that game gets into a drawer it never leaves. Ever. No one that comes across it feels empowered to throw it away because it doesn't belong to them.

So, it’s a problem. An overwhelming one. But I’m working on it one day at a time, one room at a time. I got the kitchen cleaned out on Tuesday, and got rid of all of the unopened leftover food. I poured out half-empty bottles of wine and booze that had been in the cabinet for what has likely been years. I cleaned out all of the junk drawers and boxed up all of the stuff belonging to previous ‘thoughtful’ tenants. It’s much, much better in there now.

The scary part is now I have to do that exact same thing to twelve other rooms.

Now, if you’re planning to come to visit us in the near future (I’m thinking especially of you, JoAnn), don’t worry. The place isn’t dirty. It’s just cluttered. The drawers that I cleaned out today, miraculously, weren’t filled with crumbs, dirt, and dust. They were weirdly clean. It was a real surprise, and heartening to say the least. And the beds here are nice, and the furniture is very cool and antique-y. It all looks fairly put together on the surface. The surface clutter problem is easily fixed. And the rest of it? I'll tackle that too. Most of the problem lies in the interiors of the space, the places where any of you, as visitors, would likely never have reason or inclination to look. It bugs me, because I’m living here, and because someone really has to step in and STOP THE MADNESS.

It looks like that person is me.

The Maryport Move-In

It’s exciting, moving into a new house. On Sunday night, we packed everything up in Bristol and went to bed, raring to hit the road early the next day for the six hour drive to Maryport. I was so excited that I was up and dressed by 7am, long before Matt or Frankie had popped out of their bedrooms. The ride from Bristol to Maryport seemed to take forever, but when we pulled up in front of the house, it was all worth it. It’s such a beautiful building, and I can see why Matt fell in love with the place. It’s far and away the most interesting, quirky, and downright cool place I’ve ever lived in. It’s huge, too! There’s something in the neighborhood of thirteen rooms, counting bathrooms and the laundry area. It’s way more space than I’ve ever lived in before. I’m still getting a little turned around and confused as I ramble from room to room.


The first floor is for all of the common living spaces. There’s a living room, a dining room, a nice kitchen, a big foyer with super cool tiled floors, and a study.

Upstairs, there are four bedrooms and three bathrooms.

Remember when I said that this place used to be a bed and breakfast? From looking at the décor in the house, its past is pretty obvious. It’s all very Victorian in terms of style, and most of the rooms are filled with an assortment of very expensive and grown-up looking antiques: wash basins, silver serving sets, elaborate lacy floral curtains and even a baby grand piano.

Here's a random sampling of the decor round these parts:

(Accordians, anyone?)

There are a few rooms that seem to have been cleaned out of the “posh” Victorian décor and modernized, but not necessarily in a very cohesive way. It’s very catch-as-catch-can in those rooms. It seems like maybe the castoffs from two other households have somehow ended up here: an old computer desk from the 90s, a very expensive-looking and massive set of cherry cabinets from the 80s, an ikea day bed, some country-style knotty pine furniture, an old foosball table, and so forth. For example:

(Nothing matches in here, and it drives me crazy! Plus, must...burn... rug.)

Fortunately, we have a basement where we can stash most of the unwanted stuff. I have big plans for turning one of the “castoff” bedrooms upstairs into a playroom for Frankie, and the downstairs study (where the foosball table, several boxes of random junk, and two of the ugliest green armchairs I’ve ever seen in my life currently live) into an office for Matt.

Right now, it definitely feels a bit like living in someone else’s house. As soon as we personalize and de-clutter the place a bit (new bedspreads, rugs, curtains, some kid stuff), I think it’ll be great.

Oh, and did I mention the view?

(The small band of grey mist where the hills meet the sky is the Irish Sea.)