Christmas Cheer.

The advent calendars are almost spent, as the annual festive countdown closes in on the big day. I find myself wondering just where the last 12 months have actually gone, as the passage of time seems to quicken every year. This illusion may be connected to the fact that I am getting older – it only seems like yesterday that I was the age of my oldest daughter, Olivia, and thinking that the 3 days until Christmas was an eternity away. Now I feel it will be over in the blink of an eye. As I quietly ease into the middle years of my life, so dawns a growing realization that those carefree younger years will not be coming back.  It's when I relent to this reality that this illusion of time only seems to worsen. I am sure I am not alone in feeling like this and I would be better served in celebrating what I have achieved in my life, rather than what I have lost. The problem is that Christmas and then New Year is naturally a time of reflection, whether of the past year, the previous Christmas or previous years gone by... It is also a time for family and celebration. This will be the third Christmas in a row that we have been away from what we call our true home and is the time both Caz and I yearn for family, old friends and the familiar sights and smells of Cornwall the most. So anyone reading this (so far) rather philosophical ramble, should be cheered that you are all in our Christmas thoughts.

To be honest, it is only now that I have been able to spare the time for such gloomy and dour reflection. With a huge sigh of relief, last Friday signaled the end of a long and extremely busy first term at school and ushered in the Summer (for us in the southern hemisphere ) and Christmas holidays. The last 2 weeks have been especially busy: Evie has appeared in both the key-stage 1 nativity and the local pantomime, Cinderella; Olivia and Caz have been away on the year 5 camp and work has been a crazy mix of observations, meetings and data collection. Add to this potent cocktail, the Girl Guide and Rainbow Christmas fetes and parties, more birthday parties, a school staff Christmas party and a marathon training schedule now in full swing, and you have one very tired and stressed teacher. Tis the season to be jolly…

Oh well. I would probably complain of boredom, if I didn't have all of the above swirling around my life, and with the frenzy of the last 2 weeks complete, the cupboards and fridge bursting at the seams and Father Christmas hopefully on his way, laden with toys and sweets, I can relax a little more and enjoy the remainder of the year (whatever is left of it anyway). One thing that is for certain is that this year's Christmas experience should prove to be a very different one to that of the last 2 years. Firstly, we will not be woken up to the sound of the local mosque calling everyone to prayer, at 4 am on Christmas morning. Being firmly rooted back in a Christian-dominated world, the day is a public holiday, so it will also feel like Christmas when we venture outside – the shops will be closed, roads relatively empty and no hint of working construction sites, turning the already dusty atmosphere into a desert sandstorm. We are kicking off the festivities at the whale bone arch on Christmas Eve for carols and mulled wine; and there is whisper that Father Christmas may put in an appearance – that is if the weather plays ball! The big day promises to be the usual combination of presents, a visit to the local drinking establishment, enough food to feed a small African village and the obligatory afternoon and early evening TV. I predict this will be all rounded off nicely by me falling asleep on the sofa in restful slumber as it tries to comprehend the Total War of consumption I have continuously waged on it all day. I can categorically state now, however, that I will be staying well and truly clear of Jagerbombs this Christmas Day! All in all, it promises to be a good day, especially as I will be spending it with my beautiful family. In fact, sitting here now, my Christmas spirit appears to be rising by the second, as I slug down large measures of Harvey's Bristol Cream and listen to Top of the Pops 2 blast out those old Christmas classics. I better be careful as I was planning on running in the morning… 

A short, but reflective blog entry for you today I am afraid. I will be blogging at greater length about more exciting news very shortly, as we are off to Volunteer Point to see the King Penguins next week. All that is left for now is for me to wish all you all, wherever you are in the world, an extremely merry and happy Christmas. 

Bird Brain!

Well, as I sit here and merrily tap away on the keyboard, the wind outside is doing its very best to prize the roofs off the houses of Stanley. Looking through the living room window, herds of white horses are prancing out by the Narrows, while every now and again the view is obscured by the odd shower of rain – which doesn't stick around long, due simply to the strength of the wind! Tonight's weather is in stark contrast to the blissful conditions of yesterday. In fact I even went running with shorts on for the first time since arriving here. The radio had predicted a sultry high temperature of 20° in some parts and although the wind had crept up again by the afternoon, it was really rather pleasantly warm. This is what it's like here. The weather changes at a drop of a hat - one day, the most beautiful songbird, the next, a roaring lion. Tonight we are definitely listening to a lion, and a grumpy one at that.

Again I must apologise for the lateness of another blog. Again my excuses are dominated by the amount of work I have to do. The Christmas holidays are rapidly approaching, when I will have 5, yes 5, blissful weeks to blog to my heart's content. The highlight should be our visit to Volunteer Point, to see the King Penguins, which we have booked already, and there are a few other trips planned, including New Year's Eve at Elephant Beach Farm on the west coast of the east island. That however, is for future blogs. The nature of this episode's content is of the feathery kind.

We have at last welcomed some new arrivals to the household, in the form of the webbed-feet, feathered variety. I arrived home from work on Wednesday evening to be greeted with a very excited Olivia, clutching a small, brown, fluffy duckling peering at me with its long neck. 3 more of the same were waddling around in the back passage way, along with another chick, to keep the already resident and rather bemused looking chick (now named Rita) company, which Olivia brought home from school a few weeks prior to this. Oh my god! The house had become a farmyard while I was away.

What can I say? Well, I have to admit the ducklings are incredibly cute. However, they are extremely messy! Not only do they defecate (putting it politely for blog purposes) everywhere, but they spill their drinking water everywhere as well, which only serves to make the stuff coming out of their back ends even messier. Add to this rather noxious mix, we had the chicks also doing their best to resemble industrial fertiliser-producers. This scenario was not going to continue long. The birds were going outside tomorrow.

During the day, the birds are out. They do not wander far from the coop structure that we have already made, preferring to stay near the food and water. In fact when they are left on their own, they quite often hide around the back of it or inside – I think they feel a little vulnerable being so small. We get some big, intimidating birds soaring around the skies here. During the night they are safely bedded down in the rather posh and brand new eco, flat-pack chicken coop we have also bought. I am not saying how much this thing cost us, but it's safe to say that Caz has now received her Christmas present for this year (Merry Christmas Caz!). These damn birds better produce eggs, and lots of them!

 Ducks, being ducks, do like the water. We have buried a kitchen sink (courtesy of a local builder) in the back garden for them to bath themselves, however it appears their favourite time of the day is the special bath Caz has been giving them in our own bath. In fact, they have enjoyed this so much that they all decided to bring themselves in through the open back door the other evening, and start heading straight for the bathroom. Bird brain indeed! Watching them paddle, duck and even swim lengths of the bath underwater is admittedly extremely funny, however I do wonder about the practical logistics of such an exercise when they get bigger… let alone the mess in the bath! This slap-stick comedy of a scene all happens under the watchful guidance of the new chick perching on the side of the bath. This chick has spent so much time with the ducks that it thinks it is a duck - to the extent of actually jumping in the bath with them at one point. Definitely bird brain!

Rock n Roller!

Firstly, I must convey my apologies for the delay in writing the next post for the blog. I come armed with a number of excuses including a busy schedule at work, my attempt to squeeze as much running and cycling (both indoor and out) around this busy schedule, the odd day trip (see below), chicken coops, running around after the offspring and their increasingly busy schedules, and finally, the tiredness resulting from all of the above!

The above hurricane reached its height this week, with having to survive 2 dress-up days (Victorian and Pink!). Such is the lot of a primary school teacher I suppose. I sit here now in a state of tired, yet satisfied, reflection, having completed my first half-term at IJS. I feel it has been a good start to my career here. Not everything is where I would like it to be yet, and I have much to do, but I am happy with the outcome so far.

Remaining on the subject of work, the big news is that I have now got a TLR (a teaching and learning responsibility for the non-teaching variety of readers). My area of responsibility is to lead the literacy, PE, art/design and drama and music curriculum team. The most pressing task will be to lead school improvement in writing. Gulp! Admittedly, the task I am faced with will be a difficult one, but like a blood-starved vampire, my mouth is watering at the prospect of getting my teeth well and truly sunk into the jugular of the literary neck of IJS. I am in charge of an able and willing team and our first meeting was a success. I am hopeful my first flirtation with middle management will be a successful one and I can have a lasting and positive impact on these curriculum areas at IJS.

While I have been lost in the typhoon of work, the rest of the family have been a busy lot as well. Olivia has made a successful start to archery club on a Sunday. No one has been killed yet and she is actually hitting the target. In fact her progress over the first 2 lessons has been pretty amazing – although not enough to warrant the £400 carbon fiber, composite bow she has her eye on! She is loving drama club at school and appears to be about to take on the leading role of Lady Macbeth and this week will start Girl Guides. Evie started at Rainbows a few weeks ago and has already attended an overnight camp with them at Goose Green (ably accompanied by Caz, who offered to help out). On top of this she has now started ballet club – Swan Lake here we come! Caz has signed up to become a summer tour guide for the approaching tsunami of cruise ship tourists about to hit the islands and has hosted, for the first time this week, the sewing group she has started attending. The first stage of the chicken coop has been built (an enormous thank you to Neil for his help in this – I owe you a few ales). Stage 2 will need to be completed this week, as I was excitedly greeted by Caz after work yesterday with the news that she had ordered 4 chickens and 4 ducks from a local farm. The ducks will be joining us in about 2 weeks, while the chickens haven't hatched yet, so will probably be nearer Christmas. We have also now brought one of the newly hatched chicks from Olivia's classroom home.  It resides in a box in the boiler room overnight, but has also taken great pleasure in soiling the coffee table and won't stop chirping (surprisingly loudly) until you pick it up - the bloody thing is like a new born baby! As I said earlier, we have been busy…

The Falklands is a community with a number of its own traditions. One such tradition is that of 'Peat-cutting Monday'. Before the era of electricity and the importation of fuels such as kerosene, peat was the main source of fuel for the islands. Even now, many of the Camp settlements and houses still use peat as a source of fuel for cooking and even heating. 'Peat-cutting Monday' is an annual bank holiday, where many here will don their Wellingtons, sharpen their spades and bravely face the often inclement weather to carve out blocks of peat, to leave drying for the next 12 months. Tired teachers, take the easier option of going on day trips to the lighthouse at Cape Pembroke. This now redundant beacon of light has stood proudly at the cape for over 100 years and is a great place to visit, climb the steps of and picnic near, in a sheltered spot out of the wind looking out into the South Atlantic horizon. All this family value for the little cost of about 7 miles of driving… 7 miles that would take us a little longer than expected however, as much of it was off-road. This was my first experience of driving off-road, and with trepidation I steadfastly followed the lead car in our convoy across, over and through the mud and dunes, towards our goal.

Karen, in the lead car, was driving like a true off-road veteran.  Assuming she had ventured this path on many occasions, I blindly followed her choices, however improbable these looked. It was only later I found out, she was making it up as she went! As it turned out, the whole drive was a hugely enjoyable experience. I was amazed how well the old Land Rover coped with the rocks, rolls, trenches, dunes and lakes of mud – that was until we got stuck (the official term is 'bogged'). In fact we also got stuck in the same place on the way back. The scene – 1 Land Rover Discovery hanging with wheels spinning uselessly, 3 people pushing from the back and another 2 sitting on the bonnet in an attempt to get traction. Some would say that in terms of quiet day trips to lighthouses, this was the stuff of legends, others would say it was a typically naïve mistake of an off-road newbie! For the purposes of this blog I am going with the former. Needless to say, we and the car survived, and both 'boggings' added to a fantastic day out with some excellent company.

P..P..P..Penguins are go!

Summer is on its way. There has been a noticeable shift for the good, in the average air temperature here. We even had one day last week, which just about reached double figures. I know this is light years away from the sultry temperatures of the Middle East, but it actually felt quite pleasant and was a nice portent of the sort of weather to come over the summer months. The wind was back the next day, as was the rain, but the driving hail and snow of that greeted us on arrival in August seems to be behind us for this year anyway.

The onset of the warmer months here brings with it the jewels in the crown of the Falklands. It's about now that we see the early appearances of the magical wildlife that draws many people to the islands. A few of my colleagues had been down to Gypsy Cove earlier in the week and the word on the playground and in the corridors was of sightings of the wet feathery kind. We actually nipped down to the beach last weekend, but being naive Falklands virgin types, got there at completely the wrong time of day. This weekend was going to be different. We decided to go down much later in the afternoon. It seems that the penguins spend much of the day out to sea fishing, coming back to the beach late afternoon, to relax for the evening in their bunker-like burrows in the sandy dunes. The penguins at Gypsy are Magellanic penguins. They are smaller and a little less imperious than their stately cousins, the King penguins, but no less lacking in character.

On approaching the beach on the path around the coast from the car park, we knew we were going to be blessed with their presence today. Before we had even a sniff of a sight of a penguin, they had already underlined why they have been given the nickname Jackass. In the distance we could hear a rather strange braying, that sounded like a cross between a donkey and howling dog. Low and behold, as we rounded the path, sitting rather proudly in the entrance of a burrow, was our first wild penguin. I have to say it was quite an exciting and special moment for us all. Experiences like this was one of the reasons why I chose to come to the Falklands and this one was not a disappointment. As we made our way down the dunes among the burrows, we soon found ourselves surrounded by numerous Magellanics, resplendent in their evening wear. They wouldn't let us get too close, especially at first, and would dive for the safety of their burrows when you did. However, if you were quiet and sat still, they soon resurfaced, with their awkward little waddles - the lure of the evening sun on their chests obviously too much to resist. Leaving Caz and the kids on the dunes among the burrows, I made it down to the beach to try and get some close-up shots of a couple paddling about. Again, they kept me at arm's distance (or should that be at flipper's distance!), and when I did manage to get close, that awkward, comical waddle transformed into a elegantly impressively glide under water, away from the shore. It was certainly a very good demonstration of the habitat they are most suited to.

On the way back to the car, even more penguins were arriving into the dunes and I even managed to get some really great close up shots of a very confident one. He seemed to even enjoy the moment, posing with the grace of a cover model in front of the lens. This had been a great end to the day and has certainly wet our appetites for more in the way of nature. 

 

The Good Life!

The summer holidays came crashing to a halt at the beginning of the month as the new school year begun in earnest once again. Gone, at least for a couple of months, are the lazy days of not having to do anything. Back to the daily spinning of plates that is the reality of primary school teaching. The first two weeks have gone pretty well so far, despite the feeling I am only just about keeping my head above the water in terms of what needs to be done. The list of things to do and set in place is looming over me like towering building and I feel that I am taking the stairs to the top rather than the express elevator. I have been getting to know my new class. They are generally a lovely lot although I have a few characters, which typically permeates most classrooms, and I will have a well exercised 'thumb' by the end of the year in my attempts to persuade them that an education really is the best thing for them in the long run. Thankfully, Olivia and Evie have settled in fantastically well. Olivia has been awarded 'Student of the Week' already and both have started to create a good social network. In fact at the end of last week Evie was apparently going to a friend's house over the weekend. She couldn't remember her name or where she lived, but she did know that the house had a red roof…

Over the short time we have been here it is quickly becoming apparent that this move is going to be beneficial in at least one thing – family resourcefulness! The remote nature of the Falklands means 'things' are simply not so easy to get and when they are available, they are usually quite a bit more expensive. Food is a prime example of this. It's one of the basic requirements for life (along with water and the need to eliminate bodily waste), so not something we can simply avoid. Yes, eating less food is an answer and probably most of the developed world could do more of. However, a family of 4 is a pretty ravenous consumer and there is great potential for a very high food bill.

So we have started to introduce small money saving practices to help feed this hungry beast. Caz has donned the white apron and taken to baking in a big way, producing on almost a daily basis, a considerable variety of loaves and cakes. We are also making our own yogurt now (albeit in a very simple yogurt maker using packet mixes), which has reduced the weekly yogurt bill by half! The next stage in our morphosis will be the procurement of some chickens for the back garden. The imported eggs are expensive and to be honest not good quality. Falkland Islands' eggs are cheaper and much superior in quality, however they are not nearly so available – especially in winter. The solution… lay our own! Caz has sorted delivery of a wooden shipping crate, which will be transformed into a chicken coop and run (a test of my currently limited carpentry skills), and the chickens should be easy to get as lots of people have them here. In fact half a dozen are in an incubator in Olivia's year 5 classroom as I write (and you read!). We will not be stopping at small scale chicken farming either. The green finger muscles will shortly be flexed with a number of grow bags in the front porch. Fresh fruit and vegetables are ludicrously expensive here, so we are lessening the blow by having a go at growing tomatoes, cucumbers and anything else that will work in a green house.

As in Cornwall, the sea is an extremely influential part of life here. The rich south Atlantic fishing grounds around the Falklands are partly the cause of the dispute between the Argentine and UK governments. We have started to reap the benefits ourselves with a huge bag of giant muscles. Not having eaten muscles for a long time and having never actually cooked them, they actually tasted pretty good – cooked in white wine and stock. Being honest however, I did go to bed slightly nervous of seeing them again later! Thankfully my fears did not materialize so I will definitely be repeating this experiment. The mullet and trout season has also just started, which promises more in the way of free marine delights. A more daunting prospect, but one that I definitely plan on taking advantage of, is the promise of learning how to carve up a whole sheep. Apparently the local farmers will sell a whole mutton extremely cheaply. I will just have to cut it up and stock the freezer!

 

Snowballs in August!

My last blog focused on how we actually got to the Falklands, so for this one, I hope to give you a feeling of what it's like to actually be here. I will try to be as concise as possible, I promise...

The weather! It's Winter down here in the southern hemisphere and there is no denying the fact that it's very cold. As I write this we have been here for 4 full days, and all but the first have greeted us with snow – much to the delight of Olivia and Evie, who have been throwing snowballs, playing on sledges in the garden and trying to make a snowman. Before we got to the islands we were 'warned' that it would seem that it was possible to experience all 4 seasons in one day. This is so true, as one minute the sun can be shining, the next we could be in the middle of a blizzard – this pattern has continued all week without fail. What is a constant however, is the wind! It blows consistently strong, pretty much all the time and being mid-winter here, creates a 'nice' wind chill factor to really cool things further. This may all sound grim and depressing, but this wintry spell has only served to the add to the wild and beautiful nature of the islands (admittedly we are still in the 'honeymoon period' and I will probably be moaning about the weather soon enough) and give it a month or so the weather will be improving as the islands welcome the warmer seasons. However for the moment we must be resigned to the fact that we will have to spend an extra period of time getting ready to go out. Gone are the days of quickly slipping on a pair of flip flops, while just wearing a T-shirt and shorts, replaced by an extra 5 or 10 minutes of layering up and adorning ourselves with a long list of warm accessories: gloves, scarves, hats and sturdy boots. Leaving the house has suddenly become a greater logistical issue!

After the weather, what has struck me most has been the natural beauty of the islands. Without a car yet, we have limited experience of the islands so far, however a quick guided tour of the immediate area with Karen (my new head), a number of bracing training runs and of course the amazing view that greets us every time we look out of our living room window have all served to reinforce this place as a beautiful wilderness. Other than the above mentioned view from our window, we have Surf Bay and Gypsy Cove within a 10 minutes' drive (and about 20 to 30 minutes run). Both are beaches with the most amazing white sand looking out to a very icy looking south Atlantic. Unfortunately Gypsy Cove is a suspected landmine area, so inaccessible; however it will be a great place to watch the Magellanic penguins over the coming Summer. Surf Bay will undoubtedly be a regular haunt for us, as it looks a fabulous place to hang out and is literally only down the road – especially when it's warmer.

One of the biggest draws of the Falklands to tourists, nature enthusiasts and even scientists is the wide variety of fauna that inhabit the island. Currently it's the wrong time of the year for the islands' most famous inhabitants: the penguins, seals, sea lions and the imperious albatross. These will be steadily appearing on our shores over the next few months. So not a huge amount to speak of in this respect so far, apart from lots of ducks! They are everywhere here, waddling in and around Stanley, in and out of gardens and down the middle of the roads, as if they own the place. The 3 commonest species are the Kelp Goose, the Ruddy-headed goose and the Upland Goose (this latter species are the most common within the town from my own observation). By far the most unexpected avian resident of the islands have been the enormous black Turkey vultures soaring in the sky and even roosting in a line of evergreen trees within Stanley. Apparently they feast off the carcasses of sheep and even pick off the odd stranded or sick living sheep, making them wholly unpopular with the local farmers. It was certainly a little unnerving watching one menacingly glide over me while out running near Gypsy Cove yesterday. Running alone, in the bleak and barren landscape, with no one around for miles, an Arctic wind blowing off the angry sea, I couldn't help but think whether this black menace above me was licking his beak at the prospect of another meal below him.

So finally, onto Stanley and it's human inhabitants. It's small, but has all the basics (bank, schools, police station with jail, post office, pubs…), beautifully quiet and the people are amazingly friendly. For me personally the town has a nice feel to it. Tourism creates a big income for the islands, so there are also quite a few gift shops. We are constantly getting waved to or people are always saying hello and smiling. The local population is also fiercely patriotic. Everywhere you look you can see Union Jacks, the Falkland's flag (which includes a Union Jack) and stickers telling people to vote 'yes' (a legacy of the recent referendum over question of staying part of the UK or not). Stanley also has some very quintessentially British aspects, such as red telephone and post boxes, pub and street names such as the Globe Tavern and Thatcher Drive. There are some other things we are going to have to get used to however. The general price of things is high – fruit and vegetables especially – due to most of it being imported. There are a few things I will not be eating any longer, simply because the cost of them is ludicrously high – blueberries at just under £6.00 a punnet are unfortunately well and truly off the menu! Meat is cheap however – very cheap. Lamb and beef is all locally produced, is extremely good quality (grass fed) and at least half the price to UK meat. Fish is also plentiful and cheap. What also surprised me is that alcohol is cheaper than the UK – reason alone to move here if you ask me!!! It appears that the cost of import is offset by a much lower taxation. Getting items not available here will be much more challenging and will require a good deal of forward planning. Most things will have to be shipped, as air freight will be uber expensive. This means Christmas presents ordered in September… 

Heading South!

Wow. We have finally got here. After 4 months of planning and organisation and over 10,000 miles of travelling we finally made it from the hot sands of Doha to the wintry climes of the South Atlantic Falkland Islands.

Getting here was a bit of an epic journey over 2 days of travelling. While I have been reasonably well traveled over the last few years, I was quietly dreading the marathon we were about to undertake. As it turned out, the drive up to Oxford on Saturday was probably the worst part! Saturday is changeover day during the madness of the Summer holiday season in Cornwall. By travelling up on the Saturday we were going to be stuck in the middle of the weekly mass exodus of holiday-makers out of the Southwest.  And stuck we were… in fact we were at a standstill only 20 minutes into the journey. Great! This set the tone for the rest of the journey, and 8 hours of traffic jams, driving rain, poor visibility and monotonous boredom later, we finally arrived at RAF Brize Norton.

We stayed the night in Gateway House at Brize. Basic but comfortable (and cheap!), and with plenty of time to kill on Sunday, we were able to take in some of the beauty of the local surrounding area. This area has a very English countryside beauty about it - very different to the rugged wildness of the Cornish coastline. The surrounding villages and towns would sit quite happily on the front of a postcard and it was a shame we did not have more time to take such views in.

Stage 2 of the journey South was scheduled to begin at 11.59 pm on Sunday night. We were all pretty tired from the agonizing car drive the previous day, so God knows what we were going to feel like on arrival in the Falklands. I had purchased Max Brooks' World War Z to read on the plane, so images of zombie-like, sleep deprived, stiff and achy passengers emerging from the plane were springing to mind. We had all deliberately not got any sleep during the day, in the hope of sleeping more easily on the overnight portion of the coming flight. By the time we were in the departure lounge we were all definitely ready to sleep – that is apart from Evie, who was going wild in the soft play area… I'm not quite sure where she was finding the energy from mind you.  The last thing we wanted to be hearing at this point was there was a delay on the flight by an hour.

To be fair the flight, in the end, was not really that bad. Yes, it was long and of course there were times of boredom and lack of comfort. Any glimmer of a hope of being able to utilize more than 1 seat was extinguished by the number of people in the departure lounge waiting for the same flight – it was busy with a mixture of civilians on their way back to the Falklands and military personnel on their way to Mount Pleasant. Getting decent rested sleep in an upright seated position is near impossible, and being confined in a small space for 19 or so hours made me sympathetic to the plight of caged zoo animals. However, we did have a surprising amount of space compared to many flights I have been on, were fed well at regular intervals and did have a swanky preloaded I pad to entertainment us. What really did help was the short stop at the volcanic and barren island of Ascension; yet another island relic from the British colonial past. We were able to get off here and stretch our legs in the fresh air for a couple of hours. This definitely served as a welcome break in the journey. Only another 8 hours to go…

"Bloody hell, it's windy!"

First impressions on leaving the plane were dominated by the strength of the wind and the difference in temperature, which was significantly cooler than the temperature we had left in the UK. At least the sun was shining (for the moment).  We were met by my new head teacher, Karen and were then driven to our new home. We had done our research on the Falklands, so the poor nature of the roads and the barren outlook of the landscape unfolding around us were not a surprise. What was a pleasant surprise however, was the inside of our new home – the size, finish and comfort was much more than we were expecting. This surprise was mirrored by the girls, who had already set about apportioning out the bedrooms. For me exhaustion was seriously setting in now. All I could think about right at this moment was where was the kettle?

Come in number 16. Your time is up!

This week is disappearing quicker than the money in my bank account (and that has been seriously fast this holiday!). As I write the final UK chapter (for this year anyway) to the blog, it is already Thursday. My emotions are a heady hotpot of worry, nervousness, stress, excitement, happiness and eagerness to get going; all on rapid boil inside me. There is however,  a delicate underlying flavour of sadness at leaving my beautiful Cornwall behind again for another year. It has been at times a hectic stay over the last 6 weeks or so, but I have loved breathing the salty Cornish air, running and cycling in quiet(ish) country lanes, sea swimming with great people and definitely tasting the locally regionally-brewed nectar, that is real ale. Of course I am not the only person in this family and I am pretty confident that the girls (all 3) have had a great time also. Olivia and Evie have touched base again with both sets of grandparents and notwithstanding the dreaded dental work Caz had to undergo, I think she has been able to sort of unwind from the stress and strain of working in Doha. I definitely think some time off relaxing in the Falklands will do Caz the world of good.

I am confident that once we finally get to the Falklands, the sadness of leaving Cornwall will be quickly  dispelled by the excitement of settling into a new home and somewhere so reassuringly different to our Middle Eastern home of the last few years. Don't get me wrong, I am under no illusion that all will be rosy with living in the Falklands. For one thing, at about 7000 miles and an 18 to 19 hour plane journey, it's a bloody long way away from the UK. Just this fact alone presents a number of challenges in living there. This increase in remoteness means even less opportunity to see family and friends for one. I certainly won't be popping home for the odd weekend - Skype it is then Mum and Dad! It's also going to be another couple of years of missing the Cornish Pirates playing down at the Mennaye - something I loved to do before leaving for the Middle East. Well, maybe they will be playing in the Premiership at last, the next time I do get to see them... you never know. The weather is going to be colder on average than the UK, and being only about 2500 miles from the South Pole, A LOT colder than Qatar! A good proportion of this holiday has been spent mining a hole in the bank balance to build, practically from scratch, a new Winter wardrobe for all of us. Aside from school uniforms and work clothes, we have all been living in flip flops for almost 3 years. What makes this prospect worse is the fact that it's Winter in the Southern hemisphere at the moment. My fingers and toes are already tingling at the prospect of running and cycling in cold like that again - cue flashback of cycle commuting to Penryn, Winter 2011...

Although these are significant negatives (and there are others), I do believe and hope that they will be far outweighed by a number of positives for moving to the Falklands. Despite the cold, the opportunity to lead an outdoor life for my family and me is something we have really missed out on in recent years and something that really presents itself on the islands. It's also another part of this wonderful world to experience and savour and I feel that it truly will be a wonderful part of the world in terms of the natural beauty of the land and the variety of fauna on show.  Community life in Stanley, and how well we integrate into this, will also be an important factor in how we enjoy our time there. On this front all the signs do look favourable, at the moment. Caz (being Caz) has made a number of contacts already... Facebook, where would we be without it these days? On top of this, every person we have spoken to with any sort of contact or experience to the place have only spoken of how they have enjoyed their time there.  Lastly, it's another opportunity to develop my career. Although the school will be a lot smaller than DBS in Qatar, the challenge will be no less demanding, and yet possibly even more rewarding.

I guess we will find out soon enough, how all of the above pans out. This time next week we will be well and truly into the settling in process, which will be fine with me, as that epic journey to get there will be over. If I am honest the thought of flying for so long is not the most appealing, to say the least. We have to drive to RAF Brize Norton first, as we are flying courtesy of the RAF. This alone will occupy us for the majority of Saturday. Although fairly seasoned travellers now, I doubt very much whether Olivia and Evie even comprehend how far it is going to be.
"Are we there yet?"
"No Evie, we have only just left the airport..."
"How many minutes more?"
"One thousand and seventy-nine Evie..."

So... that's it for UK for this year. See you in the South Atlantic!

Race week!

A few weeks ago, during the 30 degree Summer heat-wave, this seemed like a good idea. Staring down at the gloomy water, clouds darkening by the minute and a fresh to strong wind howling down the promenade, this idea of swimming 200 meters and running 2 miles in the Mounts Bay Harriers monthly aquathlon was rapidly losing its gloss. The setting for the race would be hard to match anywhere in the world - a unique art deco sea-water lido with a backdrop of the truly beautiful Mounts Bay – especially when the sun is shining and the water blue. Unfortunately the weather last Wednesday was not playing ball.

I have completed many running races, triathlons and duathlons, in all distances up to Ironman, so the distances for this race, on paper at least, appeared easy. However, anyone who has raced anything near serious in these sorts of events will know the shorter the race the harder you have to race it. Mark Cavendish (top professional sprint road cyclist for those not familiar) talks a lot about cycling in the red zone when nearing a sprint finish. This is how I would describe racing one of these short aquathlons. You are in your red zone from the off. 14 minutes of pain for me… but a kind of weird enjoyable pain.

In the end I was pretty happy with my overall performance. Just over 14 minutes for both swim and run and 9^th out of a field of about 118. Considering this was my first multisport event since 2009, I was happy. Next up was the Indian Queens half marathon on the Sunday.

This was a last minute entry as I took the place of someone who was injured. I had decided to do the race out of curiosity more than anything. My last (short) road race was back in 2011 in Doha, and I hadn't competed in the Cornish Grand Prix series since 2009. I knew that I could run a long distance, as I have been doing a lot of mileage in training, however the sum total of my speed work in the last 2 years consisted of a couple of track sessions a few months ago in Qatar and the aquathlon on Wednesday evening. My plan was to run the best I could and hope to achieve at least a reasonable time.

Sunday morning arrived with the sound of torrential rain on the windows! Great… I was really hoping for a repeat of the heat of a few weeks ago. Having spent the last few years running in the heat of Qatar, hot racing conditions would have definitely worked in my favour. Alas, this was not to be. I was racing in Cornwall after all. What did I expect?  

There is always a real mixture of emotions leading up to the start of any race. Feelings such as nervousness, excitement, happiness, panic, fear… the list goes on. The more important the race, the more these emotions are accentuated. Leading up to the race I had been pretty relaxed. I entered just to see what would happen. No pressure. Standing on the start line surrounded by hundreds of other runners, feeling slightly damp from the rain, waiting for the gun, the nerves were rapidly setting in… "this is meant to be enjoyable… what am I doing this for… it's bloody raining again… I should have just gone for an easy training run this morning…"

There was just time for a quick reassuring glance to Caz, who was busy capturing this mixture of race day emotions on camera, before we were off. I have to be fair and say the race went well for me, although it wasn't the perfect race by all means. My pacing for the first 3 miles was quite frankly stupid. I decided that I would go out hard and see how long I could hold on. Well, this meant I was leading the race at mile 2, but soon slipped back. By mile 5, I was 5^th overall. Still good, but I was really beginning to think the wheels were about fall off. Visions of me staggering over the finish line in last place were flashing through my mind. What was I thinking by going so fast at the start? The rain had started again as well.

Thankfully my pace leveled out at this point and I was able to get into a rhythm for the next 8 miles – a nicely painful but just bearable rhythm – which enabled me to hang onto a really pleasing 5^th place overall (and 3^rd in the 35 – 39 age group – oh my god I am getting old!). Even more of a bonus was the time. 1 hour 17 minutes was only about a minute off my P.B. set way back in the mists of time of 2008. These small personal victories were crowned by the sweet kiss of congratulations from my lovely wife, Caz, who has followed and supported me steadfastly on all but a few races over the years.

All in all it was pretty successful return to racing this week and already in my mind were the beginnings of plans for races over the next 18 months. However, a more pressing thought was to get back to Penzance and celebrate with a couple of jars of Cornish real ale…

One final word... I have to shout a 'huge well done' to all the Mounts Bay Harriers who completed the race at Indian Queens, especially those who had never raced so far. A half marathon is nothing to be sniffed at, especially in the windy and wet conditions of Sunday. Also while I am shouting, can I also shout a 'huge thank you' to all the marshals, who stood in all that rain and wind for hours on end. Without volunteers like these, races and events that I and others love would not happen.   

Welcome to my new blog!

Hello and welcome to my new blog.

I have never 'blogged' before so you will have to excuse the amateurish nature of the site (at least to begin with). This is going to be a learning experience for me and if you follow regularly, you should share the evolution of the blog into a much slicker, informative and enjoyable site.

Why have I decided to blog? Well, in about 2 weeks my family and I are embarking on a major relocation to the South Atlantic - the Falklands Islands. We will be there for at least 2 years (with the odd trip back to the UK for some warmer weather) and I will be teaching at the Stanley Infant and Junior School. The purpose of this blog will be just another way for family and friends to keep updated on what we are up to, what the Falkland Islands are like and the new experiences and challenges we encounter along the way. I will also probably throw in the odd philosophical ramble about life, the universe and everything from time to time (apologies now...). There will be other ways in which to catch up with us, including Skype and Facebook, but this will be an opportunity for those interested to find out the recent happenings from the Falklands in more depth and at their leisure.

Why the title - Travelling, Teaching and Training? Well, that should be pretty obvious really, especially if you know me. Firstly, I am a teacher and this is the primary reason for me being in the Falklands. Secondly, I have been lucky in that my career has enabled me to see much more of the world in recent years. My family and I have just spent the last 2 and a half years in Qatar, which served as a stepping stone to the rest of the Middle East, as well as Thailand. Now the we are about to find ourselves somewhere very, very different! Lastly, I have a passion for keeping fit in general, running, cycling, swimming and triathlon. This will not be stopping in the Falklands. In fact I am pretty excited at the forthcoming challenges of training in this remote part of the world.

As I wrote earlier, this blog will be a work in motion. I promise to have definitely have something a little more interesting to say in coming posts, but I needed to get the introduction post out of the way first. I hope you enjoy reading and catching up!