From cold to warm

During our stay in England, the weather turned cold. Frost on the windshields, dusting of snow on the hills kind of cold. Needless to say, it was lovely being on vacation and not having to scrape windshields (windscreens).

After two days of sightseeing, our third day at the Goswells was given over to pressing apples into cider. Armed with a book and plans for a press from the Web, Karen supervised, while we put Cripsin's fabrication to the test. We picked, chopped, scratted (that's a fancy-apple term for the coarse grinding that the fruit undergoes before pressing), searched for more containers for apples and their by-products (future compost), and managed to break the press. With a halt put to the preparations, the men-folk retrenched to the workshop and figured out how to rebuild the press to apply enough pressure to get the precious juice without breaking apart. After much kibitzing and fortified with a fine out-of-the-freezer feast, the first pressing was finished by bedtime for the wee ones. A large bottle of juice was set to ferment (Karen has promised a full report), and the rest pasteurized and bottled and labeled. We tucked our bottle into the special bottle compartment in the back of the car (it is a French car, after all), and it is now safely ensconced in our kitchen.





Our crossing home was not as rough as coming over, but high winds kept us circling for three hours before we could dock. The Irish Coast Guard took advantage of the opportunity to do some helicopter rescue training, which provided at least an hour of entertainment. We got home and fell into bed quite late; poor Alfred had to rise the next morning, but we did no such thing.




The trees outside our windows appeared a little more bare, and the microwave said it needed its clock reset. I figured I'd need to set the timers on the radiators as well (each one has a separate control), but we scratched our head for a day until the neighbor said they had only been without power for an hour. Indeed, it appears that readjusting clocks off of daylight savings time was taken care of for us by the electric company. I wonder how they'll move things forward in the spring...

The tallest of the Wicklow hills had a sprinkling of white (we think that's why it's called the Sugaloaf), but that has since melted. The weather turned back to just quite cool. I finally capitulated and bought a wireless modem dongle for my laptop, since the Internet connection was completely gone upon our return, and a visit from the tech today yielded absolutely no improvement.

I am off to Florida tomorrow, for a professional conference. It will be odd to be warm (though I may freeze with the air conditioning) and around Americans.

Traveling Bristol

We are once again sheltered in the cozy cottage at Karen and Crispin's, enjoying the free entertainment provided by two appropriately-aged siblings and a screaming internet connection. Yes, and endless cups of tea and cocoa.

The weather seems to have developed a troubling pattern: we wake to a sunny, if frosty, morning, but by the time we're actually dressed and quasi-breakfasted and on our way, the clouds gather. We usually get to our destination, pay the entrance fee, and then the heavens open up. Wet, complaining teenagers (who reproach us that they didn't wear/bring their raincoat), and wet children who don't complain but need to be carried ensure. It seems that Danny is the only one who is always suitably dressed, and who has no complaints, as long as we keep sticking food into him at regular intervals.

Our first foray was to the Stourhead Estate, just over the border in Wiltshire, gardens with exquisite views, enhanced by spectacular fall colours and--a hailstorm!



The four children had wandered off as one, leaving four adults to meander the path around the lake, and wondering from time to time if they were wet and miserable. We made a half-hearted effort to call them, but did not panic when we discovered that none of us had phone service. Karen rightly predicted that they had sought refuge in the buildings at the entrance. A short stop in the fading light to get Alfred to his namesake's three-sided tower completed the tour, and we tucked into a feast of take-away Indian food.

We then left the smaller kids with Crispin and wended our way through the labyrinthine streets of Bristol to IKEA to help stimulate the EU economy. In a mad dash to the checkout before closing, we had to deal with a few teenage hissy fits, but seem to have ticked just about everything off our list. Except a decent chef's knife, which for some reason, was entirely sold out.

Yesterday we took the clan to Bath, the classic Roman/Georgian attraction. I hadn't been for well over a decade, and am happy to report that they are still lovely. The boys seemed to enjoy it, and there was a breathtaking moment when we came out to the main bath to discover a thunderstorm had rolled in, and the cold rain hitting the warm water raised a cloud of steam. We regrouped with hot (soy!) cocoa for the trek home, and put together supper.


Today has dawned clear and frosty cold; we are slated to press apples into cider, which seems an apt way to spend a late autumn day.

Tomorrow we head home, back through Wales, on the ferry and back to Wicklow in time for Halloween. I wonder if we can take a kid as a souvenir?

Meandering to our destination

We boarded a ferry for England (half-term break) on Saturday, but not until we chipped away at the Internet iceberg. It seems with the re-opening of the hotel on the premises (www.tulfarris.com) we have an ally in the broadband supply challenge. The hotel is advertising wifi, and it appears that we share the signal. So if we're down, that means the hotel is down. Not good for business. The players are Larry, the hotel facilties manager, and Eddie and Stephen, who work for the dysfunctional Omnitel. Alfred has cameo appearances as the man who keeps asking the same question to see if he can get the same answer twice. It hasn't happened yet.

***

Today, Monday, is a bank holiday in Ireland, which simply means that the Irish thought they could use a day off, so they're saying it's the banks that needed it, and if the banks are closed then why on earth should we be working either? And so everyone takes the day off. This happens four times a year. Suits us just fine.

We took advantage of the convergence of holiday and school break to escape to friends near Bristol, where the day has dawned clear and cold. We're thinking of going to see some of those magnificent gardens that England is so famous for, and then chase it down with a trip to IKEA. Yes, there is a big blue building in Dublin with the Swedish furnishing giant's name on it, but they won't be allowed to open until the motorway works are done. We're not holding our breath, and so off to the Bristol IKEA we go. The cricks in our necks and backs call for some feather pillows, and I'm desperate for some sort of desk setup: an optical mouse does not work on a glass kitchen table! Since we took the ferry over, we have our own car, so stuff is not an issue, as long as we still have trunk space.

Speaking of ferries, we enjoyed the adventure tremendously. Even though it was more hours of travel in the end, three hours on board broke up the driving, cost us less in stress and petrol and even spewed less carbon than flying. We're seasoned ferry tarvellers in Washington State, where the ferries are part of the highway system, but here they are lifelines for trade between the two island nations and the continent: potatoes from Ireland, tomatoes from the south. The vast majority of the vehicles on the boat are trucks (lorries), most of them filled with food. And because trucks are so huge, the boat is huge too: ten decks tower above the water, ramps raise and lower to make ramps to drive on and off.
We arrived at the docks at the crack of dawn, and the behemouth was revealed to us as the sun rose.

And of course, one of the joys of traveling this early is the light traffic: on the drive down, the boys counted 132 cars, 7 trucks, 2 buses and--this being Ireland--two horse trailers.