Wisdom at 0258

This is from Stuart, my newsreader, at about 0300.

"It's not a good time to be a freelancer these days. Mind you, it's not a good time to be anything."

And Daniel last night, just before I set off for my night shift:

me: "Can you please stop shouting at the top of your voice. You're making me deaf."
he: "Mummy, do you know sign language?"

Thank God it's snowing in Tirol.

Done

I'm back to Radio. It's great to see my old colleagues and return to a very civilised four on, four off rota that allows me to do overtime. I haven't done any WOODS since early September, and my salary slips are a shocking reading!

I got quite confident by the end of my TV stint -- even graduating to Heads, ie becoming a very responsible member of the team. I was still quite relieved to escape. Not one of my fellow female live producer colleagues with kids does a full time job there. A shocking discovery, but a very good indication of how stressful the shifts are, and how disruptive the rota is.

Having said that,I don't want to lose my new-found TV skills, so I'll be back at TVC, doing regular overtime shifts. Best of both worlds.

In other news, we're going on a skiing trip -- the first in nearly two years! It's a pre-Christmas break, and we're heading to Pertisau, a small resort just 40 mins away from Innsbruck. The terrain is unchallenging but we don't care. It will suit us just fine and being still in the low season, it will be quiet. And the hotel is absolutely fantastic -- look forward to serious pampering in the food and spa front.

I'm just a few night shifts away from it .. and a very busy to-do-list to tackle as well before we head off. All presents must be bought and wrapped, cards written and sent, xmas tree decorated ... not to mention the usual hectric schedule of parties, drinks, school concerts and fairs in the run-up to Christmas. All very enjoyable - but difficult with night shifts to do in between!

Never mind - it will be the best holiday ever. Certainly one of the very best deserved.

Television

It's a hard life.

They say it will get easier after about three months -- that's exactly when I return to radio.

For the time being, it still feels like having been plunged into freezing waters at the deep end, with no swimming skills.

There were at least three hellish shifts when I thought I'd quit - the amount of pressure on me was just unbelievable.

I didn't - first, I'm too stubborn, second, most of the people I work with are very nice and I don't want to let them down.

Been driven to complete exhaustion by a crazy rota and a very steep learning curve, but for the time being, I struggle on.

Only 6 more weeks left.

Jupiter and the floor managers

My bosses have decided that it would be a good idea to train us up across all platforms.

Sounds like a job for the railways, but in fact, I'm talking about journalism.

I'm now on a three-month television attachment. And actually quite enjoying it - well, up to a point.

It's a very steep learning curve, especially the technology. Pictures matter more than words here so being able to find them and cut them fast is a more important skill than being able to write good scripts - a real shock to a long-time radio producer like myself.

Another shock came from the lack of supervision: my second TV shift included editing pictures, writing captions and scripts for news bulletins. They all went out without anyone else casting a second pair of eyes on them. I was petrified -- I was certain they'd all fall of the air. It was a miracle they didn't.

It was scary -- but 24-hour television news is a relentless business and there are not always enough resources to check bulletins. Mind you 24-hour radio is the same. Nevertheless, in the radio newsroom I come from, every script is checked and checked again, even if written by the most senior editor. And we all think it's a good idea. So there's a huge cultural difference there.

It is fair to say that before my first TV shift, I did receive a few training courses, mostly to learn about the technology.

Jupiter is now my new best friend - it's our picture editing software, and it's brilliant. But it's so easy to click the wrong place or hit the wrong key accidentally and mess it all up. On my trainig course, for instance, I once managed to turn the entire screen pink. "What have I done?" I asked the trainer. The poor guy looked completely puzzled. "That's probably because you're a girl," came his best guess after several minutes of deep thinking.

On the positive side, Jupiter knows how to do a million things ... but every little thing can be done in at least two different ways, and if you get muddled up and shout for help, you can be sure you'll be shown a third way of doing it, so it is all a bit mind-boggling.

Still, I'm slowly coming to grips with it -- along with Astons, OOVs, SOTs, DTLs and the subtle differences between studio directors and floor managers.

What I'm not coming to grips with is the geography of Television Centre. That's completely beyond me. Newcomers really would need a training course to help them find their ways. After all, I may be asked to collect guests at Reception and take them to the Green Rooom -- that's where they wait before they go on air.

Television Centre is a diabolical place: it's vast and it has circular corridors; it is a bit like a maze. It's also missing the third floor: when going upstairs, after the second floor, you find yourself on the fourth. No one here has a clue why.

It's very very easy to get lost ... and even if I make it to the Green Room, there may or may not be a receptionist to take over the guest.

If there isn't one, my job will be to go into the studio, live on air, and find the floor manager, without getting in vision. It's easy, I've been told, he's the one who mikes the guests up.

Easy. How many times have I been wondering inside live 24-hour news studios? But everyone sort of expects you to know these things already.

The thing is, I'm a known troublemaker ... So the chances of me turning up on live television news, followed by a bewildered contributor, and asking for the floor manager, are, unfortunately, relatively high. What a nightmare.

Galtur half

I did it. In exactly 2 hours, 19 minutes and 59 seconds.

It was a fantastic experience, running the Galtur half marathon.

It's in the Alps, and it's high up.

I thoroughly enjoyed the first stretch -- running out of the village, being cheered on by locals was a very nice start.

I got to the first checkpoint in 45 minutes, just as I planned. Having had two glasses of sports drink, including an ugly blue, I started the ascent.

I couldn't run all the way up the first mountain. It was too steep -- up four hundred meters in about three kilometres. I power walked as best as I could, with occasional bursts of running, and made it to the hut at the top 1 hr 20 mins after the start.

Just before I got there I encountered the first real obstacle: the path was blocked by a cow. It was huge and brown, and it was staring at me. It also had a massive bell round its neck.

Now which end do you overtake a cow? Head or tail? I immediately remembered a story about poor old John Prescott who was nearly trampled to death by a cow just a few weeks earlier.

Very gingerly, I squeezed through at the tail end and soon afterwards, I was enjoying a generous slab of home made muesli bar and a slice of lemon, along with two more cups of sports drink at the second check point.

I thought from now on, it would be a lot easier. I was wrong. I did run down the mountain amazingly fast, even overtaking two runners (yee!) but when I thought I was entering the last stretch of the run to take me back to the village, there was a nasty surprise: the path once again started to incline.

And very steeply, too. And my hands were swelling up. And it was hot. And I had been running for almost two hours. I was getting a bit confused, too. So where on earth was the third checkpoint?

In the end, I found it: strangely, they put it seven minutes before the finish line. I'd thought it would be about twenty minutes from the end, so I had been thinking I was still miles away, when in fact I was getting very near. That slowed me down bit: I was conscious not to run too fast to conserve some energy - not that I had much left at that point!

Anyway, I got a lot of applause when I crossed the finish line. And a medal. And a very nice hot drink. And a certificate which states I came in at tenth among the female runners. Well, there were only 13 of us, but the certificate doesn't say that.

It was hard work, but no torture. In fact, great fun. The locals offering snacks, the mountains, the waterfalls, the forests, the meadows, the bees, the cows. All combine to make it an amazing experience. And relaxing in the swimming pool after the run, watching the sunset over the mountains just conquered in running gear is not a bad thing, either.

I'll be back next year.

Holiday -- part 2 Transylvania

Noni's always wanted a Transylvanian skirt.

I bought two of them in my student days in Budapest: both came from little old ladies selling beautiful hand-made garments in underground stations. One of them was a long wide linen skirt with a tiny bit of lace at the bottom. Twenty years later, it is still in a fine shape. The other one was black with loads of tiny red flowers -- it's now got too many holes for either of us to wear.

The quest for Noni's new Transylvanian skirts began a few years ago in Budapest. Friends gave some tips, and we followed them all up: we went to the markets at Ecseri and Petofi csarnok ... only to be disappointed.

So this last summer, having driven from London to Budapest, a decision was made to venture further east to Transylvania.

It was hot. A brand new motorway from Budapest to Debrecen gave us a good start. Then we made the unfortunate decision to stop for one night at the blatantly neo-communist Hajdu camping in Hajduszoboszlo.

Service was appalling. It was back to the 1970. Four fat ladies with no charm, no customer service or foreign language skills were fiercely demanding at least four documents from each traveller ... with an air of extreme self-importance, they were filling in monstrously long forms by hand to check people in. At the same time they were arrogantly turning down people on the phone. It was absolutely shocking -- the only time during this last stay in Hungary when I felt my blood pressure rising uncontrollably.

And the famous Hajduszoboszlo spa was also fairly disappointing. Crowded, bureaucratic, expensive. The slides were fun and the new pools looked good, but the old bits were depressingly run-down. And we had the worst langos ever!

On to Transylvania, it was a mixed experience. On the positive side, Vasskert camping is Sovata was fantastic. Beautiful, quiet setting, luxurious facilities. The echoing sound of cockerels and dogs in the morning is still in my ears. It was weird but brilliant.

The threat of bumping into a brown bear stopped me from running into the forest ... so my runs were restricted to the roadside.

Which brings me to the subject of roads: in the land of the Seklers, they are bad. It's not roads: it's potholes. And I mean it: potholes only.

We looked at the map and plotted a nice 50-mile day trip to the Red Lake and the Bicaz Gorge ... and we ended up spending five hours driving. I thought the car would break up every minute. But the views were fascinating, and there was an element of fun trying to overtake horse-drawn carts carrying logs or fantastic amounts of hay (plus at least three children on top of the haystack) on zigzag roads.

We loved the forest fruits bought from roadside vendors. The haggling over the price. The hundreds of shops selling Transylvanian skirts in Korond. The pizzeria in Sovata where Dani's favourite spaghetti has been incorporated into the menu. And the storks proudly surveying their villages from their nests.

And it was also a weird but great experience to find that 200 miles from the border, everybody spoke Hungarian.

It was a mix of new and old -- one moment you see a cart and have a time-has-stopped feeling. Then in the next you have the best cappuccino in the world in a funky bar in Sighisoara -- a 500 year-old cellar, tastefully converted, and equipped with WLAN. Then again, you step outside and there's absolutely nothing to stop you from falling into a wide open manhole right in the middle of the busiest tourist street -- a frequent sight in Transylvania.

So go and see it before it the carts disappear -- but mind your step.

Summer -- part 1

It was out longest trip ever. It was also supposed to be a budget holiday with a lot of camping. It was not to be.

First, we drove from London to Neustift. We very nearly didn't make it. Heavy rain, traffic jams in Germany, and being up all night all contributed to a phone call to the camp site to cancel the booking at about 1800. There was no way we could pitch a tent: we were too knackered, it was too late, and it was miserably cold and wet.

So to a get roof above our heads, I called good old friend Patricia, owner of our "best loved hotel" award many times over. I told her we were just passing through on our way from London to Budapest and needed a room for one night. A luxurious hotel apartment on the top floor was promptly allocated to us, with the key hidden in a large pot of red geranium at the entrance -- their usual procedure for guests turning up after reception closes at 1900.


We had the best night's sleep -- but it came at a cost of £100. Hardly a budget hol!


We emerged for breakfast at 0900. The sun was shining, and Neustift looked its very best: glorious Alpine scenery, ski lifts already running, tiny spots of colour -- the first paragliders descending from the Elfer --already visible in the sky. We could not just leave paradise behind after one night.

But equally, we couldn't afford to stay at £100 a night. So a long chat, big hugs and farewell with Patricia followed, with her emphatically wishing us a safe journey to Budapest.

I decided not to tell her that we were actually only moving over to the campsite for three more nights to enjoy our Alpine mini break. It was a big mistake.


On day three, Noni and I were walking down on the zigzag road from Elferhutte after conquering the Zwolfernieder ... sunburnt and happy, about to meet the men at the Elferlift station.



When going round the last bend, we bumped into two lonely figures -- mind you, at that point, everybody's coming down the mountain to catch the last lift to the village, so it was very ususual to see people going the other way. A man and a woman, in trendy hiking gear, the woman wearing a huge pair of purple sunglasses.


Which she promptly removed when she saw me, shouting excitedly: Erika, are you still here? I thought you were in Budapest!

It was awkward, but Non says I sounded all right, explaining how the kids wanted to stay and as we had a tent with us to use later on in the hols, we decided to stay.

Still, it was a very embarrasing moment ... but at least I found out from Patricia that if you wanted to watch the best sunset in the world, you should be heading up to the Elfer at 1700...

22AA

Noni needed some bras. Her breasts had grown, making her life uncomfortable.

So we went to our local M&S where a very friendly assistant promptly measured her up and declared her a size 32C.

I was hugely impressed -- but not for long, because as it turned out, our local M&S did not have a single pair of teenage 32C bras in stock.

We were kindly advised to try our luck at the Kingston M&S, which must be the biggest bra shop in the whole wide world.

Everywhere you look, there are shelves loaded high with brass. And an impressive display of the stuff hanging from millions of hangers. This is surely the place, we said.

However, the teenage section was almost completely empty... and we were told that adult design bras would not fit her, so we should stay clear.

Well, me being a no-bra person -- except for my running -- I was pretty much puzzled by that instruction but I didn't dare to argue. I know nothing about bra sizing but I think a 32C should be a 32C, no matter your age.

Anyway, the teenage shelves had next to nothing in Kingston, so we needed help ... Another friendly staff was found and asked about the whereabouts of teenage bras. "Oh, didn't you hear?," came the answer, "we've had an unfortunate incident here". "???" "Well, there was a fire last week, and all our stocks were destroyed ...luckily it didn't spread to the adult bras."

A day later, accompanied by a recalcitrant Dan on his scooter tram , it was back to our local M&S.
I told the staff that we must buy some bras this time, so another helpful assistant measured Non up again, just to double check. And surprise, surprise, this time she was found to be a 30B ... and there was teenage 30Bs galore at the shop, so we bought four pairs and left in a state of considerable relief.

But not before Daniel also had himself measured. He was found to be a 22AA of which he proudly informed everyone on our way home. Complete strangers were stopped to listen to his boasting of "Do you know, I've just been measured up, and my bra size is 22AA."

Holes for baddies

Dan's been digging holes in the front garden lately. He says it's for baddies to fall in if they come to our house. If good people fall in by accident, a vehicle with a grabber comes up to rescue them.

Half marathon

I'll be running a challenging mountain track -- the Silvretta half marathon in Austria on August 30.

It is a tricky one -- especially a steep, 460 meter climb in a three kilometre stretch, early in the run.

I suppose it could be worse -- if it was towards the end, it would be even nastier.

The usual advice is to start your racing career with a shorter distance. And a flat course. But I love stretching myself, and I feel fairly confident about this.

Also, I'm very practical, and there are three pretty sensible points to consider here:

1. August 30 in Galtur is perfectly timed for our drive back from Budapest to London -- and we wanted a different route for our return journey anyway. By contrast, the Budapest half marathon on September 6 -- which I was briefly considering -- would have involved an awkward flight back to Bud four days after arriving back in London.

2. I've always wanted to go to Galtur.

3. There's a children's race for Dan and a junior race for Non -- not that she's eager to run it. But Dan's interested in putting his hands on a trophy.

So, Silvretta half marathon it will be.

What do you prefer?

It's one of our favourite new-ish games with D. Yesterday, it went like this:

Me: What do you prefer, strawberries or raspberries?
He: Both.
Me: Boiled eggs or scrambled eggs?
He: Boiled.
Me: Trains or buses?
He: Both.
Me: Mushrooms or tomato soup?
He: None of those. They're disgusting, yak.
Me: Your turn.
He: What do you prefer, snuggling up to me or going to Bush?
Me: What a silly question, snuggling up to you, of course.
He: But you go to Bush so much...
Me: What do you prefer, snuggling up to me or going to school?
He: Both

Good answer.

Camping nr St David's

Beautiful Caerfai Bay in north Pembrokeshire.

Clifftop camp site, right on the Coastal Path. Ten minute walk down the cliff to a spectacular sandy beach. Steep cliffs full of daisies, foxgloves and butterflies. The sun was out, and it felt like the Mediterranean.

Camping was exciting. We didn't get much sleep though. First night, it felt cold, strange and very new; we were tossing and turning for ages before falling asleep. Then I woke up in the middle of the night feeling a bit rough. No wonder -- two of out of our three Tesco quality air beds deflated and we were lying on the floor.

The next day we bought some self-inflating mats in lovely St Davids's, so slept more comfortably... until we were woken up by the wind. It sounded scary; we thought the tent was about to take off. It didn't. But it could have.

The third night turned out to be the scariest, though. At 3 a.m., I heard an animal's paws pouncing around the tent. Then I heard a man's harsh voice: MAX! GET BACK INTO THE TENT. RIGHT NOW! YOU NAUGHTY!

I envisaged a blood-thirsty bull terrier ready to dig its way into our tent and attack Daniel. Nothing less. So grabbed two torches to prepare for the onslaught. I was lying wide awake for a very long time, listening out for funny noises that continued into the dawn. Eventually I dosed off, clutching the torches.

I should not have worried. In the clear light of the morning, I spotted the near-invader: it was a tiny black spaniel.

All in all, it was a fantastic break. The kids took to camping like duck to water. They loved everything about it: pitching the tent, cooking the sausages, cleaning up. There was even a fight about who should come with me to wash up the dishes!

Daniel spent most of the time on the beach, working on complex engineering projects in the sand. There was a fair amount of mud throwing, too, and playing "you can't catch me" with the waves. It was brilliant.

Noni loved kayaking, swimming and walking the coastal path. To much of her delight and surprise, we discovered nearby St Non's Bay which was extremely beautiful.

Just busy

David often says I'm the busiest person in the world.

I don't think he's right. But Non says for women with two kids and a great job, in my age group, I'm probably THE busiest.

Since late February, it's been crazy. My to-do-list is just getting longer. It's not chores I'm talking about. It's big issues like Dan's school place (lost appeal, now writing to ombudsperson to get the decision reversed due to a cockup in the way the council administered the process), getting prepared for a board (yet another failure, although a sweet one) and sorting out finances (a bad one).

And the moment I tackle one issue, another three pops up in its place. It's like the dragon in a Hungarian folk tale -- you cut off one of the seven heads, only to see three others sprouting out straightway. Or is it not a folk tale?

So big issues with never ending chores -- 24 hours never feels long enough.

On a positive note, I've stepped up a gear in my running, and feeling very fit. I now do 45 mins twice week, and love it. My first semi-marathon is in sight!

The tree

My daughter's school had a horse chestnut tree in the middle of its grounds for over a hundred years.

It was a magnificent tree. Everybody loved it, and it became a symbol of the school.

Unfortunately, it contracted a disease, and last autumn tree surgeons decided it was too dangerous. So a decision was made to cut it down.

The tree was removed -- at a cost of £4,000. Soon afterwards, a mature magnolia tree was planted in its place -- at a cost of £13,000.

I pay 1,000 a month for my daughter's education, and I keep being told there are no scholarships available for bright students with parents struggling with school fees.
So the figures nearly gave me a heart attack -- what a waste of resources, I thought.

And the new tree doesn't look good. They say it's quite normal after the trauma of being re-planted ... I don't know. Its leaves are brown, shrivelled up and falling to the ground in alarming quantities.

Hope it recovers soon...

Anyaszerepek

Mami, te egy DLR vagy. Ezen a lábadon arra megy a sín, ezen visszafelé.

Szendvicsben legtöbbször az alsó kenyérszelet vagyok. Noni a vaj, Zsebi a csiklandozó felső kenyér.

Mami chick, akinek a babachickjei most bújnak ki a a tojásból.

Mamadinoszaurus, mint fent.

A habos-forróvizes mosógépben mobiltelefon után kotorásztam... Mami, te betetted a zöld farmert mosni? Benne volt a zsebében a telefonom... Tíz perc intenziv kotorászás után kiderül, végig a kabátzsebében volt.

Pakisztáni vízumot intéztem... pedig ANNYIRA nem vonz Lahore, Karacsi.

A dobozfejú tanácsi bürokratának magyaráztam, miért kell Zsebinek ugyanoda járnia szeptemberen iskolába, ahol most van... fellebbviteli tárgyalás lesz a dologból, májusban, LahoreKaracsi után.

Teljes kempingfelszerelést hajszolok az egész családnak, plusz kicsit újabb, légkondicionált Volvót.

Szervezem a lányok szupermarket pénzgyűjtési akcióit. Eddig három nap voltak, a pénztárnál csomagolnak World Challenge pólóban a népnek, mellettük a fundraising vödör .... szerencsére az angoloknál ez reflex -- mint Pavlov kutyája, ha meglátnak egyet, azonnal adakoznak.

D: Steady, steady.

Keresztanyám

Nene. Nenüs. Annus. Kereszt. Szép, hosszú életet élt -- sok néven ismertük.



Gyerekkoromban vele töltöttem a nyári szünet nagy részét. Reggel mentünk a piacra --megkóstoltuk a meggyet es a barackot, mielőtt megvettük. Meglékeltettük a dinnyét, és persze mindennap komoly képpel megbeszéltük, belepisilt-e már Lőrinc.

Megszemléltük a gombaárusokat is, ahol mindig hamiskás mosollyal megemlítette: tudod, gomba után jó erős feketekávét kell inni, akkor nem lesz az embernek semmi baja. Ezt mindta mindig nagyapa is, tette hozzá.


Felhőtlenül vidám napok voltak ezek. Kacagtunk Lőrincen meg a dinnyén, viccelődtünk az árusokkal. Aztán hazamentünk, és játszottunk -- dominóztunk, malmoztunk, sakkoztunk, kipakoltuk a szekrényt, régi, szines rongyokba öltöztünk.


Szerettem nála lenni. Nem emlékszem szidásra, kiabálásra, feszültségre. Mindig jól éreztem magam vele -- teljes biztonságban, nyugalomban. Ahogy egy gyereknek kell.


Később, felnőttkoromban is mindig ugyanezt az érzést kaptam tőle. Jó volt vele -- élete végéig derűs, pozitív maradt. Nem panaszkodott öregségre, betegségre. Néha jól elkáromkodta magát, ha lassú volt, vagy valamit már nem tudott megcsinálni.

Amikor együtt voltunk, velem foglalkozott. Eszébe sem jutott kötözködni -- nem akarta, hogy máshogy, máshol éljek, másként csináljam a dolgaimat. Elfogadott olyannak, amilyen vagyok, és végtelen szeretettel vett körül, és ugyanezzel a feltétlen, spontán érzéssel vette körül Csabit, Nonit és Danit abban a pillanatban, ahogy felbukkantak az életemben.

Remélem, úgy halt meg, hogy tudta, mennyire szeretem.

Feb half term

Excellent trip. The main highlight was definitely Non's English club - a big success. The year 8s not wanting to leave after the last session was a fantastic tribute to her skills. Well done and thanks to everyone who's helped organise it.

Wondering around the Castle district in swirling snow, and slowly realising Dan's having a proper tram day, giving me essentially a day off with N and A with much-needed good conversation - it was unexpected and deeply relaxing. And beautiful, too. Snow makes any city look great, and the view of Budapest covered in the stuff was magnificent.

Sledging, skiing in Matra, ice-skating, spas - the discovery of Aquaworld, so perfect for spending a snowy, lazy weekday with the kids. We kept returning to the outdoor pool, climbing out, leaving our footprints in the fresh layer of wonderfully soft snow while fooling around, having snowball fights in swimsuits, then jumping back into the nice warm water with snow in our hands. It was grand -- the best fun I've had with the two of them on this trip.

Our old favourites also worked well: Ice rink followed by Szechenyi and Deryne was very pleasant, too. Mini Deryne was a strange concept, though: we managed to finish a vast number of miniature dishes at an alarming pace -- much of the stuff we would never have ordered, had we been given a menu.

What was not so good: the taxi from Ferihegy was incredibly smokey -- let me not get started on this.

Then there was this business of having to queue up twice in the charming Ronkhutte while enjoying Hungary's unforgettable Alpine skiing experience. Why the ruddy hell are there two separate queues for food and drink, and, even more importantly, why is service so incredibly slow? How on earth do they cope at the weekend?

Grandparents' constant squabbling over pretty much everything was hard on the nerves. They do mean well, but somehow it's just not working.

And the visit to X in hospital. A definite highlight, although incredibly sad. But I'm so glad I saw her, and she saw me. She couldn't hear or understand most of what I said, but I know for that half hour, or perhaps even a bit longer, I made her very happy. And that's a big thing for somebody who won't be with us much longer.

Zsebi 4

Nem verekszem, csak gyorsan simogatok.

Nem köpködök, csak tele van a szám nyálkával.

Ha nagy leszek, nekem is születik majd gyerekem. Én leszek a papája, és te leszel a mamája .. ha fiú lesz, úgy hívjuk: Jaskaran. Ha lány: Christmas Tree.

Jövőre megyek Preception class-ba. Nem, Prescription class. Mégsem: I'll always want to be with you!

Snowed under

Never ever seen this much snow in London. It looked magical, and the kids had an adsolutely fantastic time.

The blizzard came Sunday evening ... and it snowed non-stop for 24 hours.

Public transport came to a halt, schools remained closed for two days. Things are now under control - but more snow is on the way! Where are my skis when I need them?

Már megint zajlik

Régen a január nyugis volt. A decemberi izgalom után jöttek az unalmas, hosszú, hideg hétköznapok.


Idén nem. Először is, nagyon beindultam a munka mezején -- mindig is szerettem szerkeszteni, de most kifejezetten nagyon jól érzem magam a bőrömben. Kellemes érzés.


Teljes gőzzel megy a School News projekt is, ami nagyon mozgatja a fantáziámat. Watch this space.


Közben folyik a februári szünet tervezése. Noni, ha minden igaz, életében először pénzt fog keresni - három délután angol szakkört tart egy magyar gimiben. Dolgozgatunk rajta. Nem tudjuk elkapkodni, mert elképesztő mennyiségű házi feladata van. Múlt vasárnap pl új Sherlock Holmes novellát kellett kitalálnia .. aztán három órát dolgozott a Miért tört ki az angol polgárháború? esszéjén. Pénteken nagy latin verseny jön. Szerencsére azonban múlt szombaton -- csak ketten -- bejutottunk a városba. Ritka, jó élmény volt.


Repjegy, szervezkedés -- aktív, szobában ülni és non-stop enni nem szerető 12 és 4 éves csak akkor érzi jól magát februárban egy hétig Mo-n, ha nem hagyjuk spontán semmittevésbe fulladni a napokat .. mindenesetre két hét múlva, két ütemben utazunk, nekem még nincs jegyem. A maradék szabadságomat kivenni nem egyszerű eset.. szokásos "Spanish practice" dilemma.


Új felfedezések? Amig volt jég, mindennap lelkesen korcsolyáztunk a Common-on. Voltunk Richmondban, hárman beszorultunk a parkban egy jó nagy üreges fába, David már hívta a tűzoltókat, amikor jól irányzott rúgással kiszabadultunk. Richmond nagyon kellemes volt -- ezer éve nem jártunk ott. Meg az Edward Raynes pub, Reynes Parkban, iskolaidő alatt, szuper. Két reggelt töltöttem ott múlt héten, csend, nyugalom, bacon roll, kávé .. egyszer még el is szunyókáltam a kanapén ... how I wish

Weighing up life and death

Poor little might. Two days - such a short stay on Earth, and a very hard one, too.

He was a beautiful baby. I really, really thought he'd make it. Our hopes were up, as he started breathing on his own. But then all of a sudden he went down.

It must be agony to lose your child, and I feel so sorry for my sister and brother-in-law.

To me, it just feels like a privilege to have known him for these few days.

Imre Jnr

My first nephew was born at the weekend. Very prematurely, by emergency Cesarian. He weighs only 600 gramms.

But we know he's a fighter.

Good luck, baby I.

Christmas, New Year

November és december elképesztő tempóban zajlott. Az adventi szakaszban kapkodtam a fejem, mindennapra jutott program. Felnőtt és gyerekpartik, karácsonyi ebéd a management jóvoltából a sarki törökben -- miért nem találkoztam eddig soha életemben friss grillezett monkfish-sel? Egész évben nem ettem ilyen jót, pedig mesterszakács főz otthon. Aztán voltak a szokásos karácsonyi iskolai vásárok, meg szülői értekezlet Noni 2009. októberi osztálykirándulásról, ami egyhetes marokkói hegymászás, négyezres csúcsok az Atlasz hegységben. Mit mondjak, én is mennék.


Volt karácsonyi színház, nyelvek iránt érdeklődő diákoknak és szüleiknek karriertanácsadó este aWHS színházában - ez baromi jó volt, miért nem kaptam ilyet az én időmben??? Mindkét iskola karácsonyi koncertje igen emlékezetes volt -- a WHS egyesített junior és szenior kórusának színvonala fantasztikusan jó, a Holy Boy-t fel kellene tenni CD-re. A West Wim előadása a szokásos angol ált. isk. produkció. Nekünk azért szép, mert ez volt Zsebi első komoly fellépése nagy színpadon, nagyközönség előtt. Milyen gyanakvó képpel ment fel a pódiumra ... aztán három hétig daloltuk a nótát "Point your toes, point your toes, Stretch your graceful arms (4 évesek, for Gods sake) We can dance, dancing for the baby" Szegény baby nagyokat koppant, Mary és Joseph a nagy igyekezetben többször elejtették.


Mire elkezdődött az iskolaszünet, teljesen lestrapálódtuk. De milyen jó is Karácsonykor Londonban lazsálni -- ok, 3 müszakot azért lehúztam a két hét alatt, de ez a hivatalos alibi a magyarországi vizit kihagyásához. Alapvetően semmittevés, semmi stressz, semmi rohanás, kényszeredett rokonlátogatás, ország egyik végéből a másikba autózás a fagyban két nap alatt két gyerekkel, nincs kényszeredett ajándékvásárlás 20 embernek... olyan jó, hogy csak mi vagyunk, azt csinálunk, amit akarunk. Karácsonykor kilazulunk, örülünk a gyerekekkel. A kisebb teljes eksztázisa teljesen magával ragad mindenkit. A Karácsony kisgyerekkel az igazi ... játszottunk, dumáltunk, és tisztáztunk alapkérdéseket ie "Mami, amikor nagyon-nagyon kicsi voltam, neked is el kellett menned Bethlehembe, hogy meg tudjak születni?"

Jókat főztünk, de nem vittük túlzásba, korcsolyáztunk a Wimbledon Common befagyott kacsa, vagy inkább sirályúsztatóján, kimozdultunk a Kew Garden-be, voltunk moziban, a farmon, ahol felfedeztük a betegecske kecskét -- Zsebi mostanában mindent rímeltet, lásd Josie-Bosie --
a jeles napokon kényelmesen telefonáltunk a családnak.. esténként, amikor Zsebi már aludt, megnéztük az összes Potter filmet ... ok, szerettem volna három napot síelni, ami nem jött össze, de volt abban valami nagyon békés és finom élvezet, összebújva a hatalmas Fatboyban, a karácsonyfa alatt, a kandalló mellett, egy pohár itallal a kézben, végre megnézni egy sor DVD-t, amit eddig jobbára csak a polcon láttam. Kint tombolt a Londonban szokatlan, farkasordító hideg, bent meg háborítatlan nyugalom. Sőt, ezt még lehet fokozni is: az éjszakába nyúló filmnézés után, hosszú évek óta először, legalább 4-5 reggel tízig aludhattam. Még most sem hiszem el.

Újévi tervek
1. Nagyobb házba költözés a Village-ben
2. Japán út nyáron ...
3. Ha nem, akkor kempingezés Erdélyben
4. Uj Volvo
5. BAND 8 vagy inkább 9?
6. Huh -- nem sok ez egy kicsit?

De azért síelni is nagyon kéne mégiscsak ....