Chelsea

One of our grand plans when we returned to the UK was to get out more.  This idea has been somewhat thwarted by the other half’s job re-location to Saudi, and while as an independent modern woman I am more than happy to do a lot of things on my own, sometimes it’s nice to have a bit of company.

Last year for my birthday daughter no 1 promised me tickets to this year’s Chelsea Flower Show.  The dates for Chelsea coincided with her graduation show so every effort was made to ensure the husband was home – and after an extended eight week stay in Saudi, he was.

We set off in great excitement.  The worse thing about living abroad for a few years is you forget just how bad a British summer can be.  You look back through rose tinted spectacles to barbeques that never really happened and days sat in deck chairs that in reality were nothing more than a five minute break with the cardigan off

I don’t think we could have picked a worse day to go to Chelsea. Friday afternoon, 9 degrees. I didn’t just need boots and a coat, I needed a hat, gloves and a scarf.

As we walked towards the Royal Hospital grounds we passed a wasteland of abandoned umbrellas. The show itself was awash with plastic ponchos, the grand pavilion full of bedraggled gardening enthusiasts, by nature a hardy lot, desperately trying to get out of the rain.

We saw all the show gardens – our tickets were for evening entry after the coach and day trippers had left for home and the crowd had thinned out.  We also saw Alan Titchmarsh – several times, in fact I think he was probably stalking us.  At least I now know where my licence fee goes – exactly how many lighting/camera/sound technicians does it take to make a TV programme? Far too many!

The carefully crafted and created displays were stunning and highly inventive.  I was pleased to see many of the gardens carried a cottage garden theme, in the planting if not in the rather structured design.  I felt rather chuffed that I too had planted aquilegia’s (columbines) in my own garden, as these really did seem to the flower of the show.

Stands and stalls were full of arty ideas for your garden, sculptures, ornaments, wonderful wicker furniture that to be honest, in this climate, no one is ever going to sit on unless it is permanently placed in doors.

After the show we decided not to head back to our B&B (or as we later discovered B & make your own B) to get changed, but headed straight for Sloane Square and the first restaurant we saw that looked like it had tables free.  Half an hour wait? Didn’t mind at all, as long as we could wait in the dry and in warm.

Week 2

A totally manic week filled with a positive frenzy of activity. Buying; selling; designing; negotiating. After weeks of lethargy in the Bubble household we have been spurred into action.

The cooker that has been dysfunctional since a major over-heating issue back in October, has finally been replaced.

The table and chairs which fitted snugly into our former flat but was overwhelmed by the size of our new kitchen has been sold to a young Polish couple and it’s replacement – two tonnes of pure solid oak – has been hoisted into the kitchen.  A private ad on Gumtree to sell the table resulted in a flurry of enquiries – including the bizarre telephone call from an elderly gentleman who sounded very keen to purchase. He asked all the right questions – age, size, condition etc. Sale! I thought, but sadly no. His final question, the deal breaker; did I have any cats or dogs? Initially I wondered whether he wanted one of those to accompany the table, but when I replied rather hesitantly that yes I did have a cat, he then said he couldn’t possibly have the table due to an allergy. If that was so important why wasn’t that the first question he asked.....

Never mind – on to the garden. Devoid of foliage since the Autumn I have carefully re-designed my rather small plot to include new paving, new seating and a lot more (evergreen) plants.  A visit to a local garden centre, a half an hour free consultation with a younger, much trendier version of Alan Titchmarsh and new ideas abound.  All I now need is Ground Force – instead – six trips to the recycling centre later, I have a garden not just devoid of foliage, but devoid of any plants. Plus I think I’ve probably just about finished off my other half who is now so unused to any kind of manual work. Despite the installation of a brand new super duper shower just before Christmas, all he has wanted to do since he got back from Saudi is soak in the bath to ease his aching limbs.

We have been shopping – numerous trips to DIY shops to purchase paint for the re-vamped bathroom, tools for the garden, accessories for my re-styled kitchen. I have browsed for material for new blinds – do I outsource and get someone to make them for me, or do I make them myself? I know I am capable and it would be a lot cheaper but do I have the time?

Adult education has re-started and I’m back to my creative writing course.  Three pieces of homework in the first week on top of this rather rash promise to produce a weekly blog. It’s going to be tough finding the time to run up a couple of Roman Blinds, plus I have applied for a job. Yes, a trip to yet another garden centre and there it was – the perfect opportunity, a customer services assistant required for just a few hours a week.

‘You could do that...’ my husband suggested, clutching his bad back.

Yes I know I could,  but do I want to? Selling plants? Definitely preferable to a battle with the sewing machine.....

Brrr.....

When I started this new blog the aim was report on how we were settling in after three years of living abroad; how we were acclimatising and adjusting to life back in the UK

As the first freezing sleet of the year begins to fall I can tell you now that far from settling in, hibernation has never seemed such an attractive prospect.

Brrr it’s cold.  After three years of Californian winters I’m not prepared for this.  I don’t even own that UK bare essential – an ice scraper for the car. I am actually one of those rare people who overnight their car in the safe confines of a garage,  but heading out for the evening last night I realised the car may well  freeze up in the two hours or so it was going to be left outside.  Could I find an ice scraper? No, all I uncovered in the depths of the garage was the culmination of our seasonal motoring needs in the US  - two sun shields for those hot sunny afternoons in the parking lot. Fat lot of good they are going to serve us here.

My wardrobe is totally inadequate.  I have had to purchase several jumpers, warm socks, and a new winter coat. I’m already on my third umbrella. Our heating bill for this quarter – and I’m sure January and February are only going to be worse – is enormous.  In Pasadena I only remember putting the fire on about twice in three years.

At first the thought of being cold was a novelty; the chance to wear some different clothes. I quite liked the idea of wearing long sleeves, and my discount boots purchased in those designer mega-stores, well they were hardly worn.  Now I rarely take them off.

I scuttle from the car to the house and then back out again, not a mere ounce of flesh on show. I’d forgotten what frost looked like, I’d forgotten those biting winds, the sunsets at four o’clock.

But of course it’s not all doom and gloom in the UK,  because Kate Middleton is finally pregnant! You can almost hear the sighs of relief all round.  The American tabloid press had Kate pregnant with twins since her wedding night – if not before.  Every time I stood in line at Ralphs supermarket the gossip mags by the check-out lead with headline stories about Kate’s ‘secret’ pregnancy.

The Americans love our royals – I was constantly quizzed about the Queen, Helen Mirren, Prince Charles and  Harry and Wills as if I knew them personally.  If we British ever decide to declare a republic and get rid of our royals, there will always be a home for them in America - apart from Camilla, of course. At least that's one suggestion that probably wont be cropping up on the list of  prospective baby-names....