Will we have to go to school in Australia? #ouraussieadventure

I arrived in Sydney at about 5pm local time. I have no idea what time that would have been for me. early hours of the morning? I was met at the airport by a school-mum friend who had moved to Sydney with her family late in 2013. It was really lovely to see a familiar face and know that i didnt have to try and work out how to get to a hotel on my own.

I had booked car hire on the website when i booked my flights. I had really only done this as it flashed up as an option at check out and it really wasn’t that much. I think it was something like ÂŁ30 for the 4 days that i was going to be there. I thought given that i wanted to do a lot of looking around then it would be easier to have a car but actually the public transport in Sydney is really good and i probably could have managed it without, just would have to have been a little bit more on the ball with giving myself plenty of time to get to places. When you have to catch a boat to get your destination things seem to take a bit longer!

My friend and her family live in the lovely leafy suburb of Southerlandshire. The locals apparently refer to it as ‘the shire’ which in my mind just has images of tractors and wellies. But it is far from that. It is a beautiful area surrounded by incredible national parks and not too far from some of Sydney’s legendary beaches.

It was dark when we finally got our car out of the garage and even though i told myself that the driving is the same as UK. In my mind I wanted it to be different! I have no idea why, the only thing i can put it down to is that the roads are a little similar to North America..they are large and felt similar in some way so i actually had to keep reminding myself to stay on the left and not try to drive on the right!

Driving the reasonably short distance to ‘the shire’ from the airport i recognised a few signs that surprised me…Woolworths..yes, not our woolworths a different one which is in fact a supermarket chain here and some of those resolute global brands that we all know that pop up everywhere! (naming no names!). We headed for the sleepy suburb and i was amazed, and this is going to sound silly, but just how DARK it was. They are clearly not as into street lights as we are. I dont know if it was that or just the fact that there was just a little bit less light pollution. But man, it was dark. The sun disappears so quickly in Australia. It was Autumn/winter time when i was there so the days were short and the sun was going down by 6. But when it went down it shot down past the horizon like a bullet from a gun. So funny to watch. Like the Truman movie when they change the day to night!

Waking up in the suburbs I got to have a little look round before i had an appointment with a school. It was a lovely sunny day, temperature of about 23 degrees. So i popped on some shortie jeans and flip flops and headed off to my first appointment. Leaving the house, theres that moment when you realise that your google maps are not going to work because you don’t have roaming! EEK. Thank goodness i thought to hire a SatNav from the car hire place. Very useful. I would have had to read a map if i hadn’t got them! *Gasp*

Driving to the area the school was in there was pretty heavy traffic. It wasnt rush hour but it seems that Sydney can be busy on the roads at any time of day! I drove to an area called Castle Hill where i was looking at a primary school. Driving into the area it has a distinct ‘neighbours’ feel to it. Large houses , large open and mostly quiet roads with soft palm trees blowing the mild autumn breeze. Its a lovely place. I found the school ..eventually.. and headed in to introduce myself. The Headteacher greeted me wearing an outfit i might wear on snowy day at home, wool tights, boots and a wool, long sleeve dress. I wondered maybe if she had really bad circulation but it turns out that sunny 23 degrees is considered cold. Okaaaay…i was all dressed for summer and we went into one classroom, i kid you not, where the heater was blasting out. Sauna springs to mind. ‘ah the kids must be feeling the cold today’ the principle explained to me with a smile.  Or trying to grow tomatoes i said with a chuckle. Tumbleweed moment 😉

The school I visited was a Public primary school. There seems to be a three tiered system of schools in Australia. You have your typical private schools. Like private schools here. thousands of pounds a year per child and out of reach of most folk who work in the areas that the OH and myself do. Then there is Public or state schools, which are similar to to our own here. Then, in the middle,  there is a non-government schools, which seem to be fee paying but not anything like a private school fees, and these appear to be church schools. There is also a grammar type school thing for seniors as well. So generally similar. They have similar age ranges to our primary schools, although the start of their academic year is January (well week before February!). All ourr kids will go into the year that they are in, in the UK system. Except for our 4th, who has a birthday in January. The principle said that they give parents the choice of which year they would choose to send their children into school. As children have to be in school legally by the age of 6. It is a bit more flexible. So as our daughter is currently in reception here we could opt for her to re- start Kindy there rather than joining year 1 ( as she will be here). They only give this option to parents of kids born from Jan- Aug in an academic year. We would probably have chosen to put her in the same year she is in, in the UK anyway but as she is only just inside this time both I and the principle agreed that she should stay in her UK year group. Our youngest would start school in January 2016.

In Kindy (reception) they had five classes! I was pretty surprised at this as it seemed like a LOT.. but it turns out they do it like that so that the class sizes are small (max 20) in each class. So the kids can get more support as they start school. They then transition them into larger class sizes in the following years. Each year had three classes. It is funny how similar schools are really. The kids were at playtime when i was there (or recess) and it was just kids being kids. Playing footie, doing loom bands or mucking about in a random puddle of water.

Chatting with the principle, she was friendly, relaxed and seemed to think that kids settle quickly when they move. Somewhere like Australia i guess they are used to kids coming from different countries and i think as a country they are very inclusive on the whole.  I felt confident that the kids would love the school. Whether or not they go there would be very dependent on where we live as the school system is still based on a purely ‘geographical’ intake. So if you live in their catchment they give you a place. This makes for the lovely status quo of all the kids in the area going to school together and living near each other. More of a community feel. One thing i loved about heading out in the morning from Hayley and Rob’s house was that you could see the kids heading off to school, on their own, on their bikes (the roads are a lot quieter) and it had such a nice feeling about it.

School box checked. Next thing to do was visit work!!

 

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Being an adventurous parent #parenting

I have a regular blog that drops into my mailbox every now and then. Its a blog written by the pastor of a church in America. Before you recoil and think its all happy clappy…bear with me. You have probably read this fella’s post before. There was a blog post of his that went huge and it was not because it was telling you how to save your souls but it was funny. Very funny. I might have actually laughed out loud as he re-rold his story of a holiday with small children. Then there was another one, that touched the worn out heart of every one of us running this parenting marathon. He is a writer of truth, sensitivity, compassion and razor sharp humour. I really really enjoy his blog.

A few weeks ago when i was sat by the side of the most incredible harbour in the world. Watching a light show of epic proportions and feeling a little bit overwhelmed by a) being far away from my loved ones and b) the mountain that stands before us in the shape of a future decisions. I stumbled across a rare moment of free wifi (that actually worked!) and a few downloaded emails popped onto my screen. Relishing a little in the rare moment of actually being able to read an email at an acceptable time of the day. I opened up an email from the actual pastor and it was like a word to my soul. Speaking to me across the oceans and thousands of miles.

Whilst i had been travelling my hashtag had been #adventurers. I had felt like it was a massive adventure. I had been very nervous about flying to Australia by myself. Something i wouldn’t have thought twice about 20 odd years ago but now it felt different. So i felt like i was trying to channel some of that adventurous spirit of old. The one that had backpacked through Europe and travelled from one side of Canada to the other by train.

I think somewhere on this trip it had started to re-ignite..just a little!

I have re-posted what he had written below. I love his description of his childhood. Love that his parents sounded like they were a little bit rebellious and took some risks, stepped away from toeing the line. Love that they obviously subscribed to the school of thought that believed that not all that is valuable in life can be learned in a classroom.

Teaching them that change is not something to be feared. That taking an opportunity, regardless of outcome, is a chance to grow and learn more about who we are.

That sometimes you have to stepping outside of your boundaries is something your future self is really going to thank you for!

Please do have a read….

Original post: What I learned from a 1972 Dodge Van by Steve Weins

 

I grew up in the post-Vietnam, pre-Reagan seventies. We had a 1972 Dodge Van, which was General Lee orange, emblazoned around the middle with a thick, white stripe. It got four miles to the gallon when it was coasting downhill, and we drove it everywhere, even during the gas crisis.

This was before mini-vans and seatbelts. When I was a kid, bench seats were the norm in cars, and mostly, everybody just sat up front. I think most front benches could comfortably seat thirteen across. It is stunning how quickly my mom could pump the breaks while simultaneously stopping her three kids from catapulting head first through the windshield, all with her superhuman right arm.

When I was seven, our family spent two weeks driving up the California coast, with no reservations, and no plans, in that 1972 Dodge Van. My mom was about six months pregnant with my youngest sister. Those were the days when pregnant women wore cotton shirts with the word “baby” hovering above a stitched arrow which pointed towards their bellies. The seventies were not known for their subtlety.

That trip was magical. I remember choking down cheap pancakes at dollar diners, and swimming in hotel pools (it is an irrefutable fact that no matter where you take your kids on vacation, they really only want to be in the pool). We slowly wound our way up Highway One, the sun cutting the ocean into a hundred million diamonds, just for us.

We went all the way up into Washington, but we promptly turned around at the border, and I’m still not sure why. Perhaps we ran out of energy, or money. Perhaps we had no interest in the Space Needle. I don’t remember much about the way back. A picture tells a story of a time that I fell, scraping my hands and knees on the rocks while hiking. I can still see that picture in my mind, though I’m sure it’s been lost for years. I’m wearing cut off jeans (very high on the thigh, with the white pocket sneaking out from underneath the frayed edge of the blue denim), knee high socks, and a blue skateboarding shirt with white piping on the sleeves. My mom is standing next to me, wearing (not kidding) her pregnancy shirt with the arrow on it. I am proudly showing the camera my bloody hands while my California 1970′s afro frames my face, the Redwoods towering in the background, telling their stories in whispers and groans.

I remember another trip in that van, when my parents kidnapped us from school one Friday morning, and drove us 90 miles south to Anaheim, where we checked into another cheap motel (and, of course, we swam in the pool until our feet bled from the concrete pool bed). At night, we went to the Angels game, where I saw Rod Carew hit a blistering line drive into the stands, striking an older gentleman and stopping play for several minutes. The next day, we stayed at Disneyland until very late at night, arriving back home in the early morning silence of Junewood Court, the sleepy street on which I learned to ride my bike. My parents scooped us out of our blanket cocoons,  and snuck us into our beds without us making a sound. We’d wake up the next morning wondering if it was all a dream, until we felt the bottoms of our feet, still blistered from the motel pool. We’d smile and know that for a day, we were immortal.

These are the memories I have as a kid: I grew up with parents who thought it was perfectly normal to kidnap us from school to drive to Anaheim, and to drive north up the coast without a plan. In the eighties, my dad would sometimes come home with the newest Atari 2600 cartridge (Space Invaders, Asteroids, Missile Command), which I thought was for us kids, until I realized they played it late into the night after we were asleep. I have other memories, of course I do. It wasn’t all giddy and care-free in our house. But those trips in that van are the memories that cascaded over me today, as I remembered the boy that I was, and the man that I am.

I am the child of adventurers. Those memories come into my consciousness like the tide, rising and reminding me who I am and what I need to do with my life, when I am not sure anymore.

And so I wanted to say thank you, mom and dad. For not following the rules. For taking us past the boundaries. For teaching us to stretch and grow and become more than we thought we could.

Thank you.
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Liverpool Rock ‘n Roll Half marathon #rocknroll

The day before i flew to Australia I ran a half marathon. That sounds insane? It felt a little bit nuts but i had entered before I had booked my flights and in fact before realised that i would have to go to Aus. So I wanted to at least do the race, if not in a fast blast it pace just to get round and have another race under my belt so to speak. I thought i would be okay although it turned out i had to work a 12 hour shift the day before so, even i was thinking this could all be a little bit too much. But I thought if i took it slow and looked after myself well after the race i would be okay.

This is the second half marathon i have entered. My first was in March and a pretty similar route. The rocknroll’ marathons are a large movement of races that i think started in America. They are calling it a tour and they have clocked up an impressive number of cities. It is sponsored by the heavyweight BT in this country and so it had quite a slick feel to it in comparison to the first one that i had raced. They even had Austin Healey to start off the race ( a rugby celeb who i would have had no idea about if it hadnt been for his appearance on Strictly!). He stood by the start and  enthusiastically high fived the first couple of hundred out. By the time i passed him he had given up that idea and had was going for a weak, encouraging smile! Can’t say i blame him, i bet his hand hurt! 😉

The race incorporates both a half and a full marathon. Whilst i have toyed with idea of entering a full marathon. I know that i just dont have the time right now to commit to the training needed to do 26.1 mile justice. Its something i might aim for the in future but i can just about manage the training for a half and even then its not always possible to get in those long runs every week. I do fully intend to run a full marathon ( you heard it hear first!) and i did contemplate entering one this year. But at the moment I will stick with the distances i know i can do justice to. I dont want to kill myself over 26.2 miles just to say ive done it. I want to enjoy it the way that i have enjoyed every race i have had so far. The marathon runners started an hour after the half runners and i did wonder if i was going to suffer the humiliation of being lapped by a marathon runner on the route but they headed out to the north of the city first and then came back to the city to join their second 13.1 miles that was our entire race!

We started in groups of estimated finish times. I couldn’t even remember what i had put down and as i arrived at the start 5 minutes before the gun went (a little too slack on travel arrangements!) I just joined a group half way through the field and went with them. They very deliberately staggered the starts which i think is a really good idea. In my previous half marathon they hadn’t done that and it felt very crowded for a lot of the time, in particular at the start.

I think at the start of this race it did have a bit of ‘get the job done’ feeling about it. I had such a busy week ahead and was a little pre-occupied about flying to Sydney the next day! The races are called rock’n roll as they incorporate music by showcasing local bands at mile marker points around the course and then at the end of the race have a headline act to finish. We set off around the city to take in the music historic site of the Cavern Club where the Beatles started out. It was a little odd to be running down the high street in the city as usually they keep to the roads but we passed through, past the shopping mecca of Liverpool One, which in the early hours of sunday morning was totally silent. We turned up past the business district and law courts and headed out to the south of the city passing through chinatown. This was pretty much the only part that the route deviated from the previous race i had done and i really liked it. We actually went through an area of the city that i have never been to.

We turned right and headed up out of the city taking in the giant Anglican cathedral and up probably the most sizeable hill in the route. The last race this had been almost at the start of the run, as we didn’t do the route around the city, so i think i was fresher. But its a short hill and so i dug in and maintained my pace up to the brow of the hill. Swinging right and passing one of the first live bands, the route straightened out for a while. Time to tussle a little for places, the pavement is raised in that part of the city so trying to get past people was a little tricky and i didnt really want to start jumping on and off pavements and risk twisting an ankle. Coming to the large bend in the road and heading into one of the many parks we would run through I settled into a good pace just in front of a runner with a helium balloon tied to his back!!

Time to settle in for some miles and at this point i have found, both times,  that the blustering and buffering with other runners settles down and folks are focused on getting the job done. Its also time when the water stations start to get busy and i always try to keep away from the groups stopping unless i want to myself.  I start off with a bottle of water with me so i don’t have to stop at the early water points. It was about 9 miles that i finally discarded my own water bottle. I made my OH laugh when i told him that even though it is totally acceptable to down your drink and throw the container to the side of the pavement to be cleared up by the amazing volunteers..i still waited till i past a bin and popped it in there. Too many years of telling my children not to litter..just couldn’t bring myself to do it!! 🙂

Turning into the majestic Sefton park it was time to take a toilet break. I  have managed on my other runs to totally avoid this, my kidneys and i we have an agreement that they will function quietly in the background once the gun goes. Usually i can make sure this happens by a quick, pre-race wee but given my very late arrival at the start line i didn’t even see the loos let alone get a chance to get near them so i had to start knowing i would need a little potty stop! 🙂

I chose to use one with no queue, minimising time lost to standing around and that was right on the race path. A timely hover (no-one really sits on a porta-loo do they?!) and a pause on my watch saw me heading off in less than a minute lost. Heading towards the 7-8 mile mark we went past a band who were properly  rocking it. I actually was pretty sad i couldn’t stop and listen. I need to find out who they were. Some of the bands were little tents with a DJ and a few speakers and others were full on bands blasting out rock, high fiving the runners and pumping their fists as we ran past. It was an incredible boost.

I was dreading the last part of the race, out onto the prom which can be notoriously windy and cause a real problem. A quick grab of some water and a power gel thing. I hadnt seen these before i so i thought to give it a go. It was like a cross between baby food and jelly. It was horrible. I almost gagged. Chasing it down with some water that i sitll had with me I managed to get the rest of the packet down. I think next time ill stick to jelly babies!

We turned and headed for the prom. It was a real surprise to find it with little wind coming in off the mersey but the sun put in a massive appearance at this point and the temperature went up a bit. I was still at a comfortable pace but aware of the sun and needing to top up on water a little more often.

We past the 11 mile marker and i really started to think of that finishing line. The route along the prom can be a little tiring as it is so long and boring. I get that its the best way for the route organisers to get 30,000 odd runners back into the city without massive disruption to the roads but it is a long 4+ miles of running in a straight line. Its totally open to the elements and as it is coming to the end of the run people can be at their limits. Within the last couple of miles the red cross volunteers where having to attend to a few runners, one of which appeared to have collapsed entirely. Scary stuff and it was a reminder of how important it was to look after yourself especially when it starts to warm up a lot. The last water spot before the finish was busy. Skipping in right at the start i managed to grab a bottle and tip most of it down my top. I haven’t really perfected the art of drinking and running at the same time!! The lady handed me the bottle, smiled and shouted after me ‘keep going, you are almost there!’ ahhhh the words you so want to hear!! 🙂

The last mile I dug deep, mustered some energy and hammered home to the finish. Not too fast to not make a swift detour to high five some little spectators who held their hands out for countless runners who went past ignoring them. I love the interaction from the kids on the side lines, their cheers, smiles and encouragement. Its funny how much it can change the way you run, like their positivity attaches to your feet and lifts you on just that little extra bit.

I crossed the line, feeling accomplished and happy but not burnt out. The volunteer placed the medal around my neck rather than just give it to me which made me feel like a champion!! We all peeled off into the echo arena to collect our goodie bags, t shirts and free beer! I love the fact that nearly everyone pops their finishers T shirt on. That gradually people change from being a myriad of colours to united in the same. Wearing their achievement right on their backs regardless of finish time or place. Still the achievement is the same.

There is something so rewarding about having done a really long race. To have started filled with excitement, endured the tussling and tangling for places, finding your pace and bedding down for those middle miles and rounding into the last miles where the spectators are shouting you on and that finishing line is in sight. It makes those endless early morning starts and training runs worth it.

Ive already signed up for the next one!!

 

 


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Im not really crying its just something in my eye. Looking back at school days

My son is coming to the end of his time at primary school. He is now in year 6 and will soon be leaving the school he has spent the last 7 years attending. I was looking through some old photos and its so hard to believe how little he was now that he is a gangly, tall tween. Hard to remember the little guy he was who flat out refused to put his school uniform on at all before he actually started school and then hated it so much for at least the first term at school.

Fast forward from then till today and i have had another three first days of school and i still have one more to go. I have always felt really excited for my kids starting their new adventures and challenges in life. There was a little bit of me, i will admit, to having a sudden heart in mouth moment the first time each of my babies has set off to school but we have always told them that it is good to try new things, roll with change and learn to grow in it. So they have all been super eager to get on and have a go in school and we have had no hanging onto the railings and howling. They have all just strode off confidently and left me with a cheery wave.

I found these pictures of my kids on their first days at school. For some reason i must have deviated from getting a shot against our white kitchen wall with our one who started reception this academic year! But they all look so similar. The girls were all smiling and ready for it. My son was ready to go but i think would have preferred to wear his own clothes!!

With four kids in school we get through A LOT of school uniform. The kids school has a standardised wool school jumper that you have to buy from a school supplier but every other item is general school wear. The kids all have their own opinions as they get older which dress, skirt, jumper, shirt etc they prefer but we still go for good quality, economical and (at least in the beginning) easy to get on and off!! I can’t imagine what PE lessons are like for reception teachers!! Getting thirty 4/5 year olds into PE kit and back again into school uniform must take most of the lesson!!

We found that for the girls the tunic dresses worked really well, they didnt need to worry about keeping a shirt tucked in and they could zip them up with ease. The button ones, whilst pretty, can be a bit fiddly for little fingers. We eventually worked out that short sleeve shirts were best for all year round and the kids didnt have to try and button up cuffs.

My son used to love shorts and so we had lots of them when he was little. Now he is in year 6 i think its a bit uncool to be in shorts and only if we have a really hot day will he wear them!  The year 6’s who are leaving this year are now having the fun, wind down term since the SATS are finished and they are off for a week to an adventure camp, there are parties planned, leavers hoodies and a limo all booked. It is going to be a fun term for them! Its the start of a whole new chapter for them and this one i know I will be watching more from a distance than being part of it like you are at primary school. Despite the thought of that stinging a bit…Im ready for it! 😉

How things have changed. When i say 7 years to myself it seems like such a long time but it feels like it has gone by in a blink of an eye. Sometimes it feels like only 24 hours has past from that moment when i first kissed him goodbye on his very first day of reception to this morning when he flings an arm round me and says ‘see you mum’ to catch up with his friends and walk to school with them.

*sigh*  đŸ™‚

 

this is a partnered post

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#silentsunday #sydneyharbour

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