Back to TQ12

Ten months have passed since this happy blog post about moving into our new flat.  Ten months of fun, ten months of frustration, and ten months of hard work that confirmed what we knew all along – that our wonderfully-located city-centre flat, with its faded Georgian opulence, was our temporary stop-gap to getting on the property ladder. 

Fast forward from that late November weekend, and Lizzie and I have just become homeowners.  For me, it’s a move back to the old home town of Newton Abbot, whilst for Lizzie it’s a foray one step deeper into the Westcountry, where the accents are slightly more pronounced, and the pace of life is just that little bit slower.  We’ve made a balanced decision, the cost (financially and mentally) of the daily commute weighted up against an otherwise higher quality of life that we think we’ll enjoy in our new home. 

Dodgy bedroom

Dodgy kitchen

So, what have we got?  An ageing bathroom (complete with defunct shower), a tired boiler and some questionable electrics, none of which is ideal, but all of which will soon be sorted as we take our first steps towards making this house our home.  And if you can look beyond the imperfections, there are certainly worse places to live – the lounge-diner is spacious, the bedrooms are a good size (and there’s three of them!), there’s a garage (although the door has just fallen off its hinges) and, of course, an exceptionally interesting garden.  A lick of paint here, a touch of work there (or was that a complete refurb here, some major rewiring there?) and we’re going to see this house completely turned around into a place we’re thoroughly going to enjoy.  For both of us, this is a really exciting prospect.

Dodgy lounge

Dodgy garden

So, from here on in all blogs will be coming directly from our new home.  I hope you’ll all stay tuned for room-by-room updates!

Our new home!

Blest Isle! With matchless beauty crown’d

Rule Britannia!

When Britain first, at Heaven’s command:

Arose from out the azure main; (arose from out the azure main,)

This was the charter, the charter of the land,

And guardian angels sang this strain:

Rule, Britannia!  Britannia rules the waves,

Britons never will be slaves.

The nations, not so blest as thee:

Must in their turns, to the tyrants fall; (must in their turns, to the tyrants fall,)

While thou shalt flourish, flourish great and free,

The dread and envy of them all.

Rule, Britannia!  Britannia rules the waves,

Britons never will be slaves.

Still more majestic shalt thou rise:

More dreadful, from each foreign stroke; (more dreadful from each foreign stroke,)

As the loud blast that, loud blast that tears the skies,

Serves but to root thy native oak.

Rule, Britannia!  Britannia rules the waves,

Britons never will be slaves.

Thee haughty tyrants ne’er shall tame:

All their attempts to bend thee down; (all their attempts to bend thee down,)

Will but arouse thy, arouse thy generous flame,

But work their woe, and thy renown.

Rule, Britannia!  Britannia rules the waves,

Britons never will be slaves.

To thee belongs the rural reign:

Thy cities shall with commerce shine; (thy cities shall with commerce shine,)

All thine shall be the, shall be the subject main,

And every shore it circles thine.

Rule, Britannia!  Britannia rules the waves,

Britons never will be slaves.

The Muses, still with freedom found:

Shall to thy happy coast repair; (shall to thy happy coast repair,)

Blest Isle! With matchless beauty crown’d,

And many hearts to guard the fair.

Rule, Britannia!  Britannia rules the waves,

Britons never will be slaves.

The goodness of people

Many months ago, I logged on to the Find a Grave website as part of family history research, to see if I could find the war grave of my Grandad’s cousin, Wilfred Roy Major, who was shot down in a bomber over Germany in the Second World War.  I knew from the excellent Commonwealth War Graves Commission that he was buried at Durnback War Cemetery, Bavaria, and so put the details in, and lodged a request – more in hope than expectation –that should any photographers be passing, they might see his grave and send on a picture.

I forgot all about this service until last week, when an email popped up in my inbox, to tell me that my request has been fulfilled – somebody called “BobP” had actually taken the time, whilst at the cemetery, to find Wilfred Roy’s grave, and to upload a photograph for me.  I don’t know BobP - I don’t know who he is or where he comes from - but his act of kindness in helping to locate this important family monument will not be forgotten.  It reminds me that, in the age of the selfish, there is still goodness in people and a desire to help for nothing more than the sake of helping.

Dakota Days - Memorable days (going home)

Day Thirty.  Tuesday 17 August 2004

"A day in which I think I worked fairly hard.  We finished digging our grid today.  The highlight was taking my dog skull to the lab to be cleaned and photograph.  It is cool, easily my best find.  After this, we more-or-less finished.

This evening we went out to Walmart - what an enormous store!  The most interesting aspect was the self-checkouts they had, so you can buy without a cashier.  Tristan did it, but did it wrong and had to get a cashier over to help him anyway.  I went to a cashier first and paid about ten times quicker than him!

Weird to think that tomorrow is our last day in Mitchell - time has gone so quickly."


Day Thirty One.  Wednesday 18 August 2004

"I suppose it would be considered a sad day today, our last day at the Archeodome.  It has been a pretty good month, the dome hasn't been bad really and people have been very welcoming there.  Today they gave each of us a grab bag to take home.  it included:

• a jam jar
• a bag of popcorn
• a fridge magnet
• postcards
• sweets
• a notebook with addresses.

Unfortunately, they spelt my name wrong, and I am now Nicolas but never mind, it was a lovely gesture.  We bought Debs some flowers and Alan gave Adrien an Exeter paperweight, plus we all signed a book for Alan.

So our last day.  Our last Holiday Inn meal.  Our last swim in the disgusting motel pool.  I'm nearly packed now and ready for travelling home, but tomorrow is going to be a long day - six hours to Minneapolis, nine hours to London, then four hours to home.  

Will I ever come back here?  I don't know.  I suppose I can see myself wandering through here in 30 years or something, probably by accident, or visiting the Corn Palace on a day excursion (does anybody visit South Dakota by accident?)  But who knows what the future will bring.  Three months ago, I didn't think I'd be in the States!"

An Afterword.  25 September 2004

"I suppose a note like this would be considered an 'afterword' if my diary was some sort of published work.  I sit on my bed, it's 2.22am, and I have just flicked through the diary for the millionth time in the last month.  Date wise, it's two months ago that we took the journey west into the Badlands and beyond.  In fact, minus the six hour time difference, it's pretty much to the minute that we were in the pool at the motel, celebrating Vicky's birthday.

This kind of thing is supposed to be a reflective thought on the America trip, but I'm not really sure what to say or where to start.  Since returning to England I have frequently wished I was back in the motel room, the Holiday Inn, the Black Hills.  Especially, and most frequently, I remember Hot Springs, a town you can really fall in love with.  Looking back, that area, so far west of Mitchell, felt like the end of the world where everything was so relaxed and peaceful.  All troubles were a lifetime away, it was something I've never really felt in a place before.

That excursion was the undoubted highlight of the trip.  The Badlands were so fantastic and the scale was extraordinary - I would certainly like to visit again.  It was the landscape under the blue sky and those beautiful clouds.  It was the heat.  It was the air - the smell and taste of it.  I know I'm privileged to have been there.  And this is not to discount the Black Hills, especially the scenery around Mount Rushmore, which will stay in my memory forever.

Of other highlights, I will never forget the sunset over Lake Mitchell, which words cannot do justice to.  I also often think of the Blue Grass music in Sioux Falls.  I remember thinking, at the time, that I would always remember that experience, and so it seems to be the case.

I can imagine going back, perhaps on my own, for a longer period of time to explore properly. But in the meantime, it's now less than a week until I move back to University, to my student life in Exeter, which I love.  But I shall never forget South Dakota and those memorable days out west."

Dakota Days - Foods of the World!

Day Twenty One.  Sunday 8 August 2004

"One of the best days of the trip.  Tris and I went to the Middle Border Museum today.  It was closed until the afternoon, so instead we wandered into town and looked around the antique mall.  There was a soft toy of Mr Peanut, who I remember seeing from my Bolton Wanders mascot meet.  At $28 he is too expensive, but I really liked him!

We returned to the museum after stopping off at a weird KFC, where Tris ended up having mashed potato and coleslaw with his chicken.  It turns out that KFC here doesn't seem to sell fries - I had potato wedges with my burger.  We both agreed that Dairy Queen was better... and cheaper.

The Middle Border Museum was very interesting, with the focus on Indian life in the area, the farmstead expansion, and prairie life.  There was a good exhibit on the Great Depression, whilst outside there were a few old buildings - A church, a school, and the biggest building of all, the Beckwith House, moved to the site from Downtown Mitchell, both beautiful and creepy.  There was also an old railroad station moved from Dimock.

In the evening we all went out to the Twin Dragon Chinese restaurant to celebrate Heather's birthday, which is tomorrow.  It was a really nice evening - Vicky managed to spill her drink and Tris got huffy with the chopsticks.  I had the 'Shanghai beef' and also tried some of Tris' duck, which was ok, but not my favourite meat.  Afterwards we got our fortune cookies.  My fortune read "Beautiful words are not always truthful; Truthful words are not always beautiful."  All in all, a really good day!"

Day Twenty Four.  Wednesday 11 August 2004

"The weather was cold this morning... a bit like my spirits.  I had a funny night last night.  Firstly, I woke up when my deodorant can fell off the cabinet by the bed.  Later, at about 5 o'clock I woke up again, turned off the aircon that we had left on, then went back to sleep.  Then Dan got up, which woke me up again.  Finally, our alarm clock went off at 6:45, and for some reason I seemed to leap upright out of bed.

Nothing notable happened at work today, but by the evening, my mood had vastly improved, and I laughed harder than I have laughed for years.  At the Holiday Inn, Adrien was giving us a slideshow.  He was continuing with the slideshow until our food arrived but, unbeknown to him, the waiters were waiting until he finished before delivering said food.  It meant we were actually waiting for over two hours for our dinner, and it was hilarious.  At one point (say about an hour and a half in) the doors opened and we felt a rush of relief from hunger, but all that was delivered were bottles of ketchup.  Anyway, the whole evening was farcically funny, and I really saw the Fawlty Towers in it.  The Holiday Inn's food is actually getting worse and worse, and I long for a nice roast dinner - mmmm, how lovely that would be!"