Farewell February

After a week's half-term break, the Fosters have just mooched along getting back into routine as February drew to a close. Wayne did not quite get back onto the bike... largely because the weather forecast kept predicting snow. (There was none.) I did not go on any special excursions... largely because it was a bit rainy and bleugh, and I was getting a bit fed up with winter, and feeling less adventurous. I did go to a writers' group, which was good both meeting new people and getting an exercise to do.

Although I have not yet had an audition for the 'Bach Chorale', I was treated like a regular member of the choir this weekend, when we had a special Saturday workshop. Other choirs and members of the community were invited to join us in a day of rehearsing the first part of Haydn's Creation, before an evening performance in the local (very large) Methodist church, which sports an upper tier and a large pipe organ. Apart from the stimulation of singing with maybe 150 people, it was a good time of getting to know the people I have been singing with in the last few weeks. There's nothing like doing the dishes together ( very many tea-cups and saucers!) for having a good chat- as I keep trying to tell my children! So that was all very good. I had sung this piece at university once, so it was a bit familiar and not TOO challenging for me. Even the children enjoyed the performance that night. It wasn't too long, and they got to sit upstairs near the organ, so that was fun.

Wayne and the children had spent the day in Plymouth. They were shopping for football (soccer) boots for Jack, who has joined his school team. Mostly, they went to see a film and just have a day out. It wasn't really an Adventure; thus, no photos!


Sunday morning was a quiet one. A few jobs were done... homework and housework. Wayne prepared for riding his bike to school this week. In the mid-afternoon we drove his school things down to Looe, then headed towards St Germans, where our exchangee's sister had invited us over to show the sights and have dinner.

It was a beautiful village, next to a broad tidal river. Deb and Brian and Rowena (? I think that is the girl's name, but it sort of comes out in two syllables here... please excuse a hearing-impaired writer!) were waiting for us. There was a delicious smell of roasting pork in the house, but we all went out again to see the village and work up an appetite. We had been told to bring our Wellie Boots. The children and I dutifully did. We also brought our slippers for indoor wear, although this mortified Jack, who would rather have frozen his tootsies than front up to someone's house carrying winter woollies. The poor child was nagged into submission however. Wayne took neither wellies nor slippers, for reasons of his own. I had exhausted myself nagging Jack, so left Wayne alone. What he felt as we squelched and splashed along some very wet fields I delicately did not inquire. WE determinedly splashed with extra vigour in every puddle.

Here is a picture of us and the Hoskins in front of a particularly nice view.

From here we went downhill towards the old church and manor in St Germans. The house used to be a monastery before Henry the 8th put paid to the poor old Catholics and gave the place to the Elliots, who have had it ever since. There were tower-like gate houses, and genteel signs up in a few places entreating us, "Please do not intrude." (I imagined us stumbling onto the family sitting outside at a cloth -draped table set out with a silver teapot and cucumber sandwiches. 'Eh? What?! Who the devil...?!' they would utter, as we oikishly burst through the shrubbery in our wellies...)

We had a look in the church itself... beautiful stained glass and statues, and a magnificent Norman door. From there, we walked along the river and had a quick look at the Hoskins' little rowboat, stowed away for summer. (We have been promised a River Outing in the warmer weather.)


We walked under a lovely stone railway bridge, through the village, up and down, and back to the house and a table groaning under many dishes of good things! Needless to say the Fosters complimented the chef, and Jack had third helpings of pudding. Much is allowed to a thirteen year old boy! I think he forgave us the slippers business in his expansive state...


We had a pleasant chat by the fire, stroking the great big cat and cosily watching the four children manipulate aliens on the Playstation... (well, the adults DID manage some pleasant conversation, despite the aliens.) We left not too late to organise baths and other general Sunday evening preparation; but in a pleasant state of appreciation of Cornish people and places, yet again.