Rain, rain go away

This rainy Wednesday (who’d imagine it’s July?) finds me in desperate need of some sunshine. The rain clouds have gathered over Barford, literally and metaphorically. Dear, dear Eva has just lost the baby she’s been carrying for just 12 weeks. It’s so difficult to know what is best to do in these situations.

News of course travels quickly, and I knew the news long before Eva told me, but it seemed to me the most respectful and loving thing to do was wait until if, and/or when, she was ready to come and talk to me about it herself. And, I’m glad that I did.

I think that may be the one drawback of living in such a tiny community, news travels so quickly, and before you know it the whole world news everything about you. But on the plus side, when tragedy does strike, there are so many anchors of support when you need them.

I received a phone call this morning from a fellow member of Barford W.I., requesting my support as an anchor for another American woman/couple who has/have just moved to the village temporarily.

We are tentatively meeting for coffee at the Machado Gallery on Friday morning. I think my advice to her, apart from joining the Barford W.I., will be along the following lines:

Give up on the weather.

Talk less, listen more.

Make an effort, put yourself out there, get involved.

and,

Stop comparing, enjoy the uniqueness of English culture/British life.

I shall also advise her that falling in love with this place is very, very easy.

On Monday, I literally ran to look at an adorable cottage that had just been put on the market here in Barford. I arranged a viewing with the estate agent at 1:30 PM. Another set of viewers had had a look at 1:00 P.M.

I liked the look of the place, and the D.E.B. and I had planned to have a look together tonight. However, the agent phoned me this morning to say that the first couple put in an offer Monday afternoon at 4:00 P.M., and has been accepted by the property owners.

So, our hopes on the Barford house front have been dashed yet again. Oh, well. The quest continues. The one hopeful thing is that maybe such a speedy sell as this will ignite other would-be sellers in Barford to put their properties on the market, and offer them at a reasonable rate -- as opposed to the typically outrageous Barfordian prices. This place I looked out on Keytes Lane went for a song.

Right. No good sitting here brooding over dreams deferred. As the Royal Mail motto says: Carry on!

A rainy day requires something warm, and is the perfect time for a little culinary adventure! So I’m off to the kitchen to make a Blackberry Crumble.  No cheating, I’m making the crumble topping from stretch – no pre-packaged mixes, here, thank you – and I’m going to have a go at making some real English custard.

Tonight, I will be joining the D.E.B. for dinner with his colleagues from the European office in Belgium. Technically, this will be my first official duty as the “Mrs. D.E.B, Corporate Spouse”. I’m thrilled, and have of course bought a new outfit to wear! (Thank you, Oxfam Shop online).

I really want to make a good showing. The D.E.B. has countless horror stories of his very silly (my words) ex-wife, Thomasina, routinely embarrassing him on a grand scale. “Just relax, and be yourself,” I can imagine my grandmother saying to me right now.

And you know, I think I may just take that advice. Here’s hoping a little charm and Blackberry Crumble will do the trick.

 

 

 

April showers

American-British writer T.S. Eliot once declared that April is “the cruelest month”.  For me, this month has not been cruel so much as it has been temperamental, and certainly at times a challenge.

Sunny summer-like days, followed by sudden, chilly showers, it has indeed been a month of highs and lows. Just when I felt I was closer to solving the ”wedding cake dilemma” (latest samples for testing being delivered tonight), I now have an unimaginable problem with the wedding quilt!

Foolish Southern belle that I am, I decided to make (by hand) a wedding quilt, with less than four months to achieve the impossible. But the timing is not the worst of it.

On one of my transatlantic visits to see the D.E.B. in November 2007, we had a day out in the Cotwolds with the D.E.B’s wonderful aunt and uncle. We went for a walk near Sulgrave Manor – ancestral home of George Washington, the first president of the United States – and spent the afternoon in Banbury.

While in Banbury, I found a cute, little fabric shop and bought some beautiful fabric. Like so many quilters, I am nuts about fabric, and routinely buy small amounts just to hoard, and hopefully  (eventually) use. On the occasion, the fabric in question was a green and ivory toile, and solid green cotton. Lovely.

So, when the idea of making a wedding quilt struck me, I thought: Voila! And, viva le toile! I had the perfect pieces right to hand. Also, like most quilters, I had bitten off more than I could chew, and had engineered and begun a project that would normally take 12 months to complete, in less than 6.

I called in reinforcements, and all looked to be going well, until, we ran out of fabric last week. And, we are nowhere near the end. At last reckoning, it appeared that we possibly, only possibly, have a quarter of the quilt done.

To add insult to injury, the fabric I have selected has now been discontinued. (What else, ye gods?) I contacted the shop in Banbury, going so far as to send them a handwritten letter in the post (remember those?) with cuttings of the two fabrics and an urgent plea for help. The called me the next day to say, regrettably, they could not help. They remembered the fabric but not the manufacturer. “The only thing I do remember,” the shop assistant said, “is that I think it was called ‘Reminiscences,’ maybe you could look it up online?” Great. Just what I needed, another Google challenge. And this time, a Google fabric and colo(u)r matching challenge.   

Fearing failure in the virtual realm, I had a modicum of success at “The Quilters Den” in Warwick. It’s a great shop, with super, helpful staff. They could special order all the fabric I need, the toile and the solid green. Hurrah! But – it will take 3 weeks for the fabric to arrive. I’m not sure that my quilting army can survive a 3 week delay…worse still, when I phoned today to ask the Quilter’s Den staff what the name and make of my fabrics, they were unable to tell me.  No doubt fearing that if they armed me with that information, I might take my trade elsewhere. April is a cruel month, indeed.

But, April can also be kind.

All around the village, everyone has been so supportive and enthusiastic about the wedding, and us. A few examples: The man who will be ringing the church bells for us on our wedding day came and introduced himself to us following a Sunday service. “I shall be ringing your bells, let’s hope for a fine day,” he beamed. He is such a gentle and loving old soul, who clearly takes great pride and joy in what he does, the joyous service he renders to couples on their special day. (At some point, after the wedding and all, I would love to join his little group of church bell ringers.)

Last week, after the St. George’s Day church service, Julia (part of the Monday-Wednesday Swim Club) and her husband, Robert surprised us with a large bundle of Asparagus, fresh from a local farm. “Just a little something” to let us know we were being thought of, and to introduce us to local offerings.

I got directions to the farm from Julia, and as it turns out, it is the same sweet, little farm where the DEB and I bought our Christmas tree. Growing Christmas trees and asparagus, what an idyllic way to spend one’s life. 

I went along to the farm yesterday and bought more lovely asparagus, plus a bundle for Julia and Robert, as well as one for the Vicar and Mrs. Vicar. Seemed a nice thing to do.

Another example, of April kindness: A knock on our door in late afternoon, my friend Di, with urgent news. There’s a couple in the village planning to sale their house. Di asked them to wait, before placing their house on the open market, and give and the DEB first refusal. “I know how much you two want to stay in the village, and we want you here, too,” she said.

Such a sweet and thoughtful thing to do. So, last Sunday, after church, we went and had a look at house down Mill Lane. Very lovely couple, wonderful part of the village. I really, really, really wanted to like this place -- not least because Diane had gone to such trouble.

In theory, the house sounded ideal: 3 bedrooms, garage and parking space (gold dust here in Barford), nice garden. To be fair, it was lovely. The kitchen had been extended was huge, light and airy.  But, as I am finding with most places we seem to look at, the downstairs is super, but the upstairs always leaves much to be desired.

The 2 double bedrooms upstairs turned to out be the size of what one would roughly call a large single, and the single room was the size of a broom closet. Jackie 1 (from the Monday-Wednesday Swim Club) teased me mercilessly the following Monday, when I reported this viewing in the pool. She said: “Ooh, you two clearly spend a great deal of your time upstairs.”

Embarrassed and flustered, I tried quickly to explain that our seeming obsession with bedroom size was to do with the bulk and size of my American furniture (Thank you, Crate & Barrel), and the vast amount of “stuff” the DEB and I have acquired and accumulated over time.

Why is that so many English homes, particularly those of a certain age and character, can be so lovely in some aspect, and yet, simultaneously so dark and pokey? (SIGH)

I really hated to disappoint Di. But, neither the DEB nor I were 100% sold on the place. Funnily enough, the house we are living in and renting at the moment seems to fit us pretty well. It is a modern construction, though not entirely characterless. So the quest continues. Not that we don’t already have enough on our plates at the moment.

The readiness is all

Property. 

As a New Yorker, the very concepts of property and real estate have always been incomprehensible. No one I know owes property in Manhattan. NYC is, and will always be, a city of renters. 

I lived in New York for nearly five years, and at the end of each year, what did I have to show for it? As my father, god bless him, was always so swift to remind me, nothing. Nothing but a "receipt book." According to him, the goal of the game is acquisition. Acquiring property, equity and so forth. In the end of course, we can't take any of it with us, but, while we are here at least, capital and real estate are king.

The D.E.B. and I looked at a property here in Barford last week, and there is not much to report beyond that. We looked, we liked, we left.

We chatted about it incessantly after, dreamed about it, and even had a chat with a mortgage office at a local Building Society on Monday. Then...nothing. The house has not been mentioned since. I have tried to bring it up casually, to no avail.

As a rootless New Yorker, I am desperate to have a place to call my own. A kitchen that is mine, a garden that is ours, and etc. The D.E.B. seems, well, indifferent. Which quite unlike him, to be sure. Perhaps the current financial climate is the source of his cautiousness, or perhaps he is just feels the need for us to focus on one thing at a time. (Boys are like that, aren't they?) We are neck-deep in the midst of wedding planning at the moment, maybe another big move would be a bit much to take on just now. (As a side-note: I once had a friend who managed, rather fearlessly, to graduate from University and get married in the same day! How's that for multi-tasking!)

At any rate, I just don't want this cottage to get away!!! It could be years before another such property comes on the market in Barford. There is very little turn over in locales like this.

Okay. In true English cottage fashion, the house we looked at--built in 1820--is tiny and narrow. But it has the benefit of being bright and cheery, with lots of 19th century charm and character. A working fireplace, a cellar, small conservatory--perfect, perfect writer's space--and a sweet, little garden. 

The master bedroom is a good size, the second bedroom is only so-so. Again, in true English fashion, there is precious little storage space. I actually asked the woman of the couple selling the place: "Where do you keep your clothes?" Her reply: "I downsized." (Yikes!)

So, okay, less than perfect, but far from a write-off. I think it would be a great start for us. 

Especially as we are keen to start working on a family soon.

I have to gauge how much and how far to push on this. A part of what I am feeling is fueled by the overwhelming nesting urges I have that are completely in over-drive at the moment, but also by my deep-set sense of the pointlessness of renting.

The D.E.B. comes from a different mind-set. This is the first time in his adult life that he has lived a renter, and I think he relishes the new-found freedom that non-property-ownership brings. I just fear we are going to look up one day and see a SOLD sign in front of that cute cottage over the road...

Solutions and possible new challenges

Having a lazy Saturday morning with the D.E.B. Sitting side-by-side with laptops and cups of tea. This sunny morning has come with solutions and a possible new challenge. Friends have been really supportive on the "Bridal Entrance music" issue" and I am feeling much, much better about it all now. (Thank you, global village!) 

One suggestion was that I consider the actual mechanics of the Bridal entrance, i.e. the British way or the American way. Traditionally, in British weddings, the vicar instructs the congregation to raise, he then proceeds up the aisle to meet the Bride, and then the procession follows in this order, Vicar in front, followed by the Bride and whomever is walking with her, i.e. parent, friend, brother, what-have-you. Any attendants, bridesmaids and so forth follow the bride. In American weddings, it is the opposite: flower girls, Bridesmaids, page boys and whomever else is walking down the aisle as part of the line-up all enter before the bride.

 

Before all this music nonsense, I was going to try and do this the British way, but, if our vicar is willing, I think I may have a stab at doing it the American way round. The DEB is quite keen for me to enter the church in the American style, and that has been his opinion all along.

 

The D.E.B. has also offered another fabulous solution. Last Sunday, the D.E.B. and I attended the “Wedding Fayre” at The Glebe Hotel. What a splendid way to spend a Sunday afternoon. As we walked into the hotel, we were struck by the ethereal sound of a woman playing the harp. So lovely. As it turned, this harpist had been recommended to the D.E.B. weeks ago by an old school chum of his, when The DEB told him we were getting married. At that time, we both found the idea a little excessive, but now, standing in the midst of that sound. Wow.

 

So, when the entrance music kerfuffle surfaced this week, the D.E.B. suggested I consider the possibility of using the harpist we'd met at the “Wedding Fayre.” She was really lovely, and we chatted at length about various possibilities and ideas. So – “Pollyannas” of the world will agree with me -- things can work out better than when expect. (I wanted to avoid being noxious and saying: "When one door closes, another one opens." But guess that is what I'm saying.)

 

The harpist has offered a much more flexible approach to the bridal entrance and will in fact be even more dreamy and romantic than the organ! So, I have lost the battle to have Sissel and her beautiful lyrics, but in the end I think I may have won the war. 

 

On to new battles…

 

A new house has come on the market here in Barford. And, it is actually affordable. Barford is quite a pricey village (in a very pricey county) property-wise. We haven’t been looking, but we know we’d like to stay in Barford if we could. We are renting/letting our place here at the moment, but I think we would both fancy the idea of having something permanent. But, are we ready? Could we really take on moving house and all that right now? It’s kind of like that moment in the movie, Speed, when Sandra Bullock asks Keanu Reeves: “What, did you need another challenge right now?”