With sweat at the foundry between the wars

Sweet moderation, heart of this nation
Desert us not, we are between the wars

Billy Bragg – Between the Wars

Currently we appear to be in a period of calm between episodes of manic intense activity. 

Teen is in a good place at the moment, she and boyfriend are getting on well and spending more time together now that they have officially split up – I wouldn’t dare to attempt to fathom any reason or understanding beyond appreciating the peace while it endures.  We’re still no further forward regarding paperwork, and we are still not sure what will happen to Baby when Teen goes back to school.  Both of those things are technically in other peoples hands, although the net effects of either will of course fall onto her and us. 

School goes back for everyone on the 29th, floods and teachers strikes permitting.  I think we have gathered enough paperwork and equipment, but there’s usually something I have forgotten or didn’t know about.  The idea of ensuring that people have access to sufficient information in order to fulfil requirements isn’t really part of this culture.  I find it hard that I am unable to do anything other than be in the wrong most of the time, but I suspect that people who are born here just accept it as part of life. 

The first ever camp with our church teens went well.  I don’t feel I have a great affinity with teenagers in general, so I was amazed that they seemed to enjoy the games that I organised, and they even appeared to be listening when I presented my teaching slot. 


Now between camps, preparing for the Scout summer camp for the final week of the school holidays, from this Saturday till next.  I am actually slightly worried that I am not stressed enough about this!  Normally at this stage I would be running around like something headless, but it all appears to be under control, so I am hoping and praying that this is really the case and that anything major I may have forgotten will come to light preferably in sufficient time to fix it. 

We’re arming for peace, me boys between the wars


Teen’s life currently resembles a soap opera.  Most details not appropriate for public viewing before the watershed, but all prayers and wise counsel gratefully accepted.  She and baby decamped to Cordoba for a few days this week.   On the way back from dropping them off at the bus station I realised this meant that we could actually fit the whole family in the car, having effectively been grounded since Baby’s birth in December (being six in a car thus illegal to go anywhere).  So we made a spontaneous decision to decamp to Miramar for a few days. 

I love the fact that our kids are still unsophisticated enough to be able to have fun with sand and water.  We pitched tents in the usual spot and mostly divided our time between the beach – sand and salty water; and the swimming pool – chlorinated water.  We also threw in a boat trip to see flamingos because Joni wanted to go on a boat, and I never get tired of flamingos; and a trip to an otter farm which we hadn’t done before.  “Nutria” are a local delicacy, and technically aren’t otters, but it’s the best translation the dictionary can come up with. 


Now we’re back home, catching up on the next instalment of the Teen soap opera (thought briefly about killing her yesterday but today we have calm on the western front), drying off tents (inconveniently rained all day yesterday for packing up), catching up with washing, and preparing resources for games and activities ready for the next decamp, with the church youth group starting on Monday.