Battle Abbey, King Harold and William the Conquerer at the Battle of Hastings

We've found a couple fabulous history books.  I've already talked about one on here, The Story of the World by Susan Wise Bauer, that we used in homeschool last year.  Davy still picks it up on his own to reread portions.  We've also been reading Our Island Story by H.E. Marshall at bedtime.  The chapters are nice and short, perfect for one at a time.  The first edition of the history was published in 1905 for Victorian school children and it is obviously dated.  Dated in a most charming and entertaining way (for me, at least).  The morals of the stories are not necessarily the ones we would be preaching to children today, more than a century later after wars and radical movements and deconstructionist theory.  I love it all in spite and because it is old interpretation.  The boys love the history too, because the stories are told in an exciting and concise way. 

We were just leading up to the Battle of Hastings in Our Island Story when I realized that our English Heritage membership was about to run out.  The perfect time to book train tickets and get ourselves down to see where the battle took place so we could visualize it when we were reading the account.

I didn't even remember that the Abbey was the spitting image of Harry Potter's Room of Requirement, but it was a definite bonus.

Collin and I marveled as the children ran free and happy through the ruins.  We just can't get over how incredible it is to explore places like this with no guard rails and paranoid people scowling disapprovingly at us.  The children love to explore places like this.  I know we will miss these types of opportunities so much when we have to leave.

The day was too muddy to tromp around in the field where the battle was waged so we just looked out over it.  Beautiful and serene farm land for miles.  The visitor center museum had a movie that showed the reenactment of the battle, which took place on 14 October, 1066.  It was a brutal battle and many on both sides died.  It wasn't so serene that fateful day.  King Harold of England was a beloved and good king (according to Our Island Story) and it was a sad day when a haughty Norman stole a throne that did not belong to him.  King Harold took an arrow to the eye and was cut down at the top of the hill.  William later built a church (of Norman architecture, of course) and put an altar to mark the spot where the fallen king had lain on the battlefield.  Real life, real history, man.  It just gets to me when I let it. 

Much much later the Abbey was owned by a wealthy family's estate and a fancy dairy was put in.  Can you imagine churning butter by that heavenly window?  I think I could get used to that.  The little hobbit hole right next to the adorable little dairy was an ice house.

Catching and riding the train are always very thrilling.  Especially when we let the kids trade the phone for games on the way home.  Each kid gets a turn to control the game, rotating between stops.

Bonfire night/Guy Fawkes night is pretty big in London--lots of firework displays going on for the days before and after.  In our neighborhood we get aerial fireworks right next door.  But going out into the countryside gave me a whole new perspective on the day.  I'd seen in my British movies the bonfires and effigies but I had no idea how serious a business it is until we saw the Battle bonfire.  It was HUGE and smelled extremely fire-y (I actually a flashback to our house fire from the smell).  The effigies were creepy as anything.  I really wish I'd known about it before, because I'm sure we would have rearranged our day trip to the battle site to be able to see the bonfire lit!

The Mayflower Thanksgiving

We are heading into our fourth Thanksgiving meal tonight.  I think that's what you get when you give off this aura of not having any specific plans for Thanksgiving when people far more organized and thinking-ahead types ask you what you're doing.  ;)  By tomorrow we'll have had three American spreads (one spontaneous meal at the Colvins, one kosher feast at the Greens, and one gourmet dinner at the Bates) and one London pub pilgrimage, and I will be so ready to let Thanksgiving lie until next year. 

We heard of the Mayflower pub last year, after the holiday, and I put it on my list of places to get to.  It's a place where the Pilgrims ate before leaving London for the New World.  How cool is that?!  I'd heard the Thanksgiving meal they put on wasn't very yummy and was very expensive so I knew we just wanted the regular pub fare on a day near our American holiday.  I didn't think to call ahead to make a reservation, however,  so we were almost out of luck.  My friend, having made a reservation for her family, heard my lament and promptly and with no argument gave us their place.  She claimed it was because they had already been and were wanting a quiet Saturday anyway, but I think it's because she's one of those people who is too kind for their own good.  I accepted very gratefully.  Gratitude goes two ways, I think.  Gracious giving and grateful receiving. 

The Mayflower is in an obscure part of London, right down by the water.  The view of the Thames is really lovely from these old windows.  The bar is on the ground floor and the restaurant on the first (second if you're counting American-style).  It's pretty small and cosy.  The walls are covered in everything Mayflower--paintings, manifests, bit and pieces of ships and navigation.  Eddy loved finding so many Edward names on the ship's manifest posted by our table.  Davy felt left out there were no David pilgrims.

The food was delicious.  I guess though they don't know how to cook up an American Thanksgiving, they do know their English pub food.  Collin had a really tasty pie and mash, Eddy fish and chips, and Davy a huge chicken burger.  I only photographed mine, since it was the closest to festive: acorn squash with lentils and spicy tomato sauce.  Eliza ate bits of all our plates, and all the plates got completely cleaned.  It was a good and memorable meal.  I'm grateful we were able to be given that gift. 

Chiswick House and Grounds

The autumn here was truly magnificent.  I wish we'd taken even more advantage of it in retrospect, even though at the time I know we did the best we could.  One Sunday afternoon, after Stake Conference (where we were already part way there, the stake center being in central London), we schlepped out to Chiswick House for a wander.  It was worth the effort to get there, the day and gardens were so beautiful.  The house is a unique Palladian style home and I found it interesting to poke around the rooms and views.  The kids preferred the grounds and play area much more, naturally.

 I can never get enough leaf pictures. 

Part of the landscaping included an impressive waterfall.  I wish I'd stepped back to get a quick shot of the whole thing, but I was too entranced by the background it was creating for portraits.

In the house were several remarkable artifacts from ancient civilizations, including a Sphinx like this one made for kids to play on.  There was also a Roman sculpture that had the most uncanny likeness to Voldemort.  Like, spot on, he was super creepy.  I kinda think I should've sneaked a little shot of him, just to remember (but no photos permitted inside the house).

Starting British School

Our time line from homeschool. ^^

I mostly loved homeschooling last year.  Halfway through the summer break, however, Collin and I talked again about our plans for school for the boys this second year.  We'd talked before, of course.  Just hadn't decided, or had decided but hit snags and changed course.  This time, though, we decided to just go for it--deal with the registering nightmare we knew would happen (and did, though things worked out), and ride the wave of drama we knew would (and did) happen with children adjusting to something unfamiliar.

(Plus, I'd apparently and unintentionally traumatized them months ago when I was frustrated they wouldn't eat dinner.  I told them that British school children ate everything they were served because that's what they were taught in school.  The schools serve a hot lunch to the children every day and the children are almost forced to eat properly off their trays--at least according to what I'd heard other moms and big siblings say.  Davy and Eddy were aghast and said repeatedly that they would only ever go to school in America where you could bring your own lunch.)

I filed the paperwork mid summer.  The process to register children in the over-saturated system in London was the main hold up for me.  For Davy (as an in-year Year Two transfer student) I had to send six separate requests to six different schools, as much or more pages as my college applications.  For Eddy I sent in one to the main office (as he was entering the starting year, Reception Class), with the same six schools in order of preference.  Then I was told not to expect to hear anything back for up to a month after school began.  (This was okay, because we planned to be in Europe for the first two weeks of September).  I called a few schools while we were in Europe but got no where.  When we were back in town I began calling schools in earnest to see if the boys were on their waiting lists yet.  I was told "who?" and that there were no children of that name in the records.  So then I started hounding the main Camden Council Education guy to get my children's names in the system.  Emails and voice messages didn't get returned.  I get it, it was a busy time.  But I was definitely THAT parent. 

After a couple weeks one school wrote and said they had a place in Year Two for our son, James.  I said no thanks, the school was our last choice due to distance, and I didn't have a son James anyway.  I was in contact with our first choice and they kept sending me back to the main Council Education guy.  Still got no where with him.  Finally, I was put on with the head teacher at our first choice school.  She was super nice and understanding and manually entered Davy's name in their system and personally called the Council for Eddy.  Then we got somewhere!  Within the week a spot opened up for Davy and within another week there was a place for Eddy.  We bought uniforms and went to visit the school to see where the classrooms were, meet the teachers, etc.  School had already been in session a month or so, but the children were very kind and welcoming.  I had a proud moment when Davy went to his first morning, very nervous but brave, and raised his hand to answer a question about grammar and punctuation on a sentence the teacher had written on the board with mistakes to find.  She nodded and smiled at me and I quietly left the room, knowing he'd be alright.  It still took a week or so for him to adjust.  Meanwhile, Eddy was anxious to go to school.  I was hoping I might have a few weeks with him still home, but he was so excited that it was soon his turn to go on the bus with Davy and go to his own classroom.

The school is about a mile and a half away, near the canals.  We can get there by bus and a ten minute walk.  The commute was one of the things I was not looking forward to--rush hour anywhere, but particularly a big city is something to avoid at all costs in my book.  However, this school provides a bus service because most of its students live in our area, though the school moved further away.  Collin walks with the boys to their school bus in the morning on his way to catch the tube to work, and I pick them up in the afternoon.  It works perfectly.

The school is new, only in its third year.  There are under a hundred children and the adult to student ratio is impressive.  The main teachers work four days a week, so there is another teacher who rotates and covers the other days.  Each classroom has at least two full-time professional helpers.  Plus they have a Mandarin teacher come in once a week for the afternoon.  The school will continue to grow, adding one grade each year, and eventually having two classes for each year.  I love that my boys, Davy especially (being sensitive to noise and crowds), get to experience a small, close knit school.

I hear almost nothing about school from them, which is normal.  I'm sad I don't know every little moment of their days anymore.  I'm also relieved.  I had a lot of guilt to work through the first few weeks, feeling a little grief and a lot of relief.  It's weird, I don't know why.  It's okay that I'm not super homeschool mom.  I just thought I would be.  (And I keep open the option that I could be in the future if a child needs me to be so.)  I love that they love school.  

Davy still has some down time in the afternoon to read what he wants.  He's like me and over estimates how much at the library.  Eddy gets stickers for behavior.  He comes home with the funniest phrases on said stickers, like "lovely table manners" and one for eating but not talking during the meal.  He is also very proud of his height.  He told me the story of his friend Yahel's backpack zipper getting stuck.  Nobody could open it, not even him (Eddy), even though he's the tallest in his class.

Eliza and I are enjoying some one-on-one time, doing more toddler things at least once a week.  Sometimes she sits still for a few minutes for me to do her hair.  We've learned two new British nursery rhymes and made crafts in the National Gallery museum activities.  She likes getting into her own mischief while I'm working (is putting a blog post up "working?") and is extra excited to see her brothers when they are home.