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**DETOUR**

Thursday, July 2nd, 2009

by Rachael
Stratford-Upon-Avon, England

I wonder how many of our blog readers think we are exaggerating when we say we have at least one detour every day! Today we had three; two due to wrong turnings on our part and here’s the other:

The police told us the road had been closed for a couple of hours and helpfully suggested an alternative route to our destination. Only thing is, everyone else must have been going to the same place and very quickly we found ourselves sitting on a little lane going nowhere. Visions of the Seven Hour Traffic Jam Around Antwerp replayed and it did not take long for us to decide to find our own way to Chippenham. Our smarty-pants route included one of the wrong turn detours, but I still think we arrived sooner than if we had stayed in Da Jam.

When time is at such a premium, why were we so set on going to Chippenham? It’s not exactly a tourist sort of town. There are no big famous anythings. That could be why it was a good place to evacuate young boys to during the war. Today we wanted to find the street, nay the very house, that Grandpa was sent to with Cousin M from Alton, who we met last week. Actually it was not just them – there were three families and a boarder and a few others as well all squeezed in to this semi-detached two-storey home. And when one of the fathers came to visit it tipped the already fragile equilibrium, and so Grandpa and his brother would be sent to sleep next door, something they never complained about as the beds were big and comfortable and there was a BATH. This is the house that had a ledge just below the second storey window, from which Grandpa and the same brother used to jump onto the back lawn when their mother went out. They had read that jumping from eight feet was good preparation for learning to parachute, so this ledge seemed a gift to young boys – how obvious a place to practise! This was also the house from which they pushed Baby Cousin C in a pram – sometimes at the park at the end of the street, sometimes in a nearby woods, usually on a Sunday morning, always far faster than Baby C’s mother would have approved of. Baby C survived, moved to America and now has grown children of her own.

So the stories started flowing again.
Jgirl14 observed eagerly, gathering information for the story she is writing based on Grandpa’s World War Two experiences. Grandpa is collaborating with her, having drawn some illustrations for the story (will it perhaps even be a book?) and so we took a mug shot of the two of them together to go on the back cover one day. You can read the first draft of the first chapter HERE if you wish.

 

But Chippenham was not the final destination for the day. We still needed to take another wrong turning and head towards Stratford-Upon-Avon. I had high expectations for this town, having heard how wonderfully beautiful it is, but it was already late by the time we arrived and so I cooked dinner while the others walked. Look at what they saw:

Tomorrow Aunty and Grandpa hire a car and take off solo for a quick stint further north; we’ll have time to savour Stratford. We might even do it without a detour!
(Postscript: pouring rain tomorrow means Rob will deliver Aunty and Grandpa to their rental car while the rest of us blob in the Bear Cave….they will pull out of our lane and choose the wrong one of two possible turnings….moments later they will return somewhat sheepishly andproceed on the correct road!!!! I told you we have to detour every day.)

Time on the road: need to check Jboy13’s record!
Distance covered: 160km

*university*

Wednesday, July 1st, 2009

by a linguistics graduate
Bath, England

That Bath is a university town was particularly apparent today – hundreds of black-gowned graduates were out on display, marching the streets, proudly clutching their certificates. It seemed an appropriate place to check out second-hand bookshops and augment our meagre-but-much-larger-than-last-week supply.

Staying in a book-filled home, we have delighted in snuggling on the couch poring over, reading every word in more Beatrix Potter books than you would imagine possible in one sitting! When we left home, ER(then 2) had her favourite books, but Peter Rabbit was not among them. Yesterday, after I had read aloud a couple of bunny books, she asked to read the next. And she made a valiant effort! I love this early reading and have really missed it. I also love cuddling on the couch, children draped all over me, experiencing a written world; I’ve missed that too. But I wouldn’t swap what we have had for all the books in the world – when we opened one of the books yesterday, the children recognised foxgloves, just like the ones where we were staying a few nights ago, just like at the roadsides all this last week. They hadn’t met real life foxgloves before!

With regards to reading, something has been intriguing/bothering/puzzling me over the past few days. When we left home Lboy8 was seven years old and a struggling reader. He was sounding his way laboriously through regular words.
The other day we picked up an armful of books from a High Street charity shop in Looe. Lboy8 took a look at “My Naughty Little Sister” and promptly devoured it. Ever since, current experiences with his own naughty little sister have been compared to the literary exploits, the every-chapter-starts-exactly-the-same rhythm has been duly noted and pointed out to all-n-sundry, and the irony of the big sister still being a little kid did not escape him.
So how did that happen? Sure, this particular book is “only” written at an 8yo reading age, and so it is nothing remarkable that he can read it. But for almost nine months Lboy8 has had almost no reading material (unless you count his own poorly creatively-spelt journal). There have been hardly any social reading opportunities in English (street signs or food packaging, for example) and, as already mentioned, we have not been reading aloud.
I am of the opinion that, just like with breathing, eating and walking, given the opportunity at a maturationally-appropriate time, a child will pick up reading without a twelve-step programme or huge amounts of blood, sweat and tears.
To be honest, I did think Lboy8’s already limited reading skills would be compromised with such a break, but within the context of our whole family, this was a sacrifice worth making, an opportunity cost not too great. He’s got the rest of his life to learn to read, but we are unlikely to ever walk the Great Wall of China with Grandpa again. Even when we have had time to read (like when we were slowed down in Luang Prabang for three weeks), other things took precedence. At that particular time it was more important to us that the children learnt to overcome the language barrier and play with the children we were living with. Reading, we figured, could wait.
Except that it hasn’t. It’s happened anyway. Without any input from us apart from playing word games on long train journeys. How? I did think we at least needed to provide the opportunity, but we haven’t even done that. So now what do I do with my learning theories????

On the topic of word games…..here’s a goodie our couchsurfing host taught us tonight. You think of a word with two meanings (like glasses or cold or sun/son or flour/flower or tongue….) Everyone else has to try to guess your word by asking you questions. When you answer each question, you have to include your word, but instead of saying the word, you say COFFEEPOTS. We’ll be playing this one again!

So mused I, as we wandered around Bath today….

Time on the road: none
Distance covered: 0km

what else could we fit in today?

Tuesday, June 30th, 2009
by Rachael Bath, England Last night Rob crashed on the none-too-comfortable certainly-not-big-enough-for-him seat at the back of the Bear Cave…..and did not move for half an hour. Eventually he mentioned to no-one in particular, “I can’t keep this up!” Our preferred pattern ... [Continue reading this entry]

living history

Monday, June 29th, 2009
by Rachael Weston-super-mare, England via Clovelly He used to cycle out to this little beachside town back in the day. Way back when, the street was so steep it was closed to vehicular traffic; only donkeys and sledges plied the cobblestones. ... [Continue reading this entry]

ahoy me hearties

Sunday, June 28th, 2009
by Rachael not sure where we are – somewhere between St Just and Land’s End, England Guess where we were going! Or where we thought we were going. Yup, Penzance. But we couldn’t find any pirates coz whole town was in ... [Continue reading this entry]

of friendly folks and age-old legends

Saturday, June 27th, 2009
by one of the drivers, who is wondering when the roads will widen Tintagel, England She is wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Never mind that a gale is blowing across the fields; it is summer and one wears shorts in summer ... [Continue reading this entry]

one fish, two fish…cornish pasty

Friday, June 26th, 2009
by Rach, again St Austell, England I can see why he was disappointed. It had cute buildings and Cornish pasties and cream tea (scones with jam and thick clotted cream), but the character of days-gone-by was diluted by the rampant commercialisation ... [Continue reading this entry]

Salisbury, Stonehenge and Somewhere Special

Thursday, June 25th, 2009
by Rachael Looe, England There’s a famous cathedral in Salisbury, and while we could see the spire from our Parking Spot For The Night, we thought it would be nice to see it in its entirety. Usually we would have walked ... [Continue reading this entry]

Thank You Cousin innit M

Wednesday, June 24th, 2009
by Rachael Salisbury, England via Winchester They thought they hadn’t been good enough hosts yesterday and so Cousin M and his wife called the manor, where we had slept so soundly we had not heard the foxes barking, with an offer ... [Continue reading this entry]

B&B

Tuesday, June 23rd, 2009
by Rach from Brighton to Blackmoor, England via Alton We wake on the beachfront road at Brighton; the sun is shining, sky blue, sea rippling, gulls squawking. At the end of the day we will be pulling in to a forested glade, ... [Continue reading this entry]