September 7th, 2005

eye

Two months ago...

Two months ago,

  • we were just getting on a plane in Munich to fly back to England
  • There had been no London bombings
  • Life in New Orleans was a normal, relaxed summertime
but what a lot has changed in the meantime. Whether we blame Blair and Bush or not, the world early on September 7 in not by any means the world of the early hours of July 7.


I remember waking up in Wellington on the morning of September 12, 2001 to the news that the World Trade Center had been destroyed. When we went to bed on September 11, the world seemed quite normal, but everything changed while we slept. These are the sorts of things that nobody forgets. August 6, 1945. November 22, 1963. August 31, 1997. September 11, 2001. July 7, 2005. So few dates. So much meaning.

ian

The last week

No story of my life for the last week? It's been an interesting week for all that. Still, the days stay much the same. By Friday afternoon, Matthew and Christopher had survived their first days at school and started to realise that it wasn't a party. The week drifts, as we have meals at home and at Betty's (or she comes here) and we potter through life in the usual way. After a usual Sunday service and lunch (roast pork, apple sauce, roast potatoes, strawberry dessert afterwards) we wandered off home before the exciting journey from Bromborough to Upton, Wirral. Two trains ad a rail replacement bus, as vivh has already noted. But seeing as Mark had taken the time to get in touch and invite us, we went along to St Mary's Church to hear him be interviewed. Part of his fifteen minutes of fame are described at http://www.aiada.org/article.asp?id=17105 - this doesn't make him your average car dealer.
It also gave an opportunity to catch up with a handful of others from school or around. And it turns out that there is a bus to take us from just outside the church to our local bus stop.
We started on some long put off work over the weekend and continued this week, and it's an ongoing task. The bathroom ceiling was brown and spotted. Some thought it was the pattern, but we knew otherwise. It's not a pleasant job to wipe ?tar?nicotine?gunk? off a ceiling: hard work, unpleasant work, makes your cleaning materials filthy in no time at all. But by now the bathroom ceiling, while not perfect, is much better.
The living room is our current target. When I was here in February, I did one wall in the living room and changed it from night to day, but we're now having a go at the rest of the room. That's not by any means the work of a single day. We have so far done most of the walls accessible without moving furniture and maybe a sixth or a fifth of the ceiling, which is difficult because of a pattern of uneven plaster. But what we have done has changed from brown to nearly white. Paintwork needs attack too, but in the long term the rooms need to be redecorated. I think that rooms like these should be compulsory places for smokers to visit and see the impact.
The most effective change has been the washing of the wall lamp fittings. A muddy sort of light came from them before, so we didn't use them, but now that they shine out a whiter light, they are permitted to do so. This is important, as the nights start to get longer and darker.