D.C. Diary

Back to Blighty...

A week to go before our departure. The 'heavy baggage'  (Foreign Office speak for wordly goods) was picked up and loaded onto a truck yesterday so we are currently living in a large empty house with a couple of plates, four mugs and a borrowed saucepan. Although we are excited about spending time with family and friends back in England, I can't say I'm thrilled about the prospect of life in the Land of Austerity. In an attempt to prepare myself for repatriation I have spent the past week in my living room with the heating turned off, listening to Elgar and eating pork scratchings.  I also composed a list of things that I love about England to summon up some enthusiasm about our return.

Things I love about the UK

Friends and family

Colin Firth

Walkers Salt & Vinegar Crisps

Fish & Chips

Crunchies & Maltesers

Radio 4, especially The Archers

Suffolk.

This didn't help that much as, thanks to the Embassy shop and the joy of BBC's 'Listen again', the only things on the list that I can't get in the States are Suffolk and decent fish & chips (yes, Colin Firth does make frequent trips to the US, as do our friends and family). So I asked Simon for his thoughts. His list was considerably shorter:

Sausages

Irony

Not having to look at a sign in the restroom telling you how to wash your hands

Proper Sport.

I think we're going to have to work a bit harder on this one before we catch that plane home next week...

Tunics and Tevas

Festive Greetings from the Holy Family. At long last, here are a few snaps of the three of us in nativity garb for your viewing pleasure. Much to the delight of the Virgin Mary, brave Joseph abandoned his chinos at the last minute for the bare-legs-under-tunic look, complementing his outfit with matching Teva diving sandals and a hessian shoulder bag. Young Alex went down a storm - apparently he was the 'best Baby Jesus ever', perhaps because he was nine months older than the usual Messiah and therefore able to sit up and interact with the animals rather than crying and being sick over his swaddling clothes. I admit he did look pretty adorable, clad in his white babygrow and sporting little golden locks, even if trying to control him was perhaps a litle more challenging than I had anticipated. It was quite a day for Baby Jesus. Not only did he take his first steps just before the service but, sitting in the back pews awaiting our cue, he made the astounding discovery that his left index finger was exactly the correct size to insert into his left nostril. And so I spent much of the next hour trying to prevent him from showing the congregation just how adept he was at this new sport. Fortunately, he was distracted by the arrival of the camel, who he kept trying to stroke, and the cow, by whom he was totally mesmerised (presumably because, like his mother, he thought it was a dog, his favourite animal. I did think it was a bit odd that the nativity included a Dalmation, but assumed this was simply an extension of the creative licence granted to the duck. It was only when I complimented the dog on his fantastic costume that I was told that 'Actually, I'm a cow'). Baby Jesus then abandoned his swaddling clothes altogether to stand on his mother's lap, a miracle of development for a newborn, and before  long was flirting with the tinsel-clad angels and chatting away to the Three Kings. It was just as well the service ended when it did - much longer and the young man would have been giving the sermon. This was certainly one Christmas Eve we'll remember for a while...

Toddler Jesus and the Live Nativity

I received an email from the pastor at my church on Friday enquiring whether we would be in Washington over the holiday period and whether he could ask me 'a question about Christmas'. Intrigued, I replied he could call me whenever he wished. It transpired that the church was in need of a 'Holy Family' for the 5pm Christmas Eve Service, which includes a 'live nativity' (apparently not as graphic as it sounds). The pastor wanted to ask us to consider playing this role - they had tried some of the families with smaller children but, with so many people out of town for Christmas (an ironically different scenario to that of biblical Bethlehem), no Baby Jesus could be found.

Having never risen above the rank of Angel Gabriel in my childhood, I was absolutely delighted to have been asked to take part and couldn't wait to play the Virgin Mary. All that remained was for me to persuade the two men in the family to participate. Alex responded very enthusiastically when asked if he'd take on the role of Baby Jesus - he only knows two words, 'Mama' and 'Yuh', and replied emphatically with the latter. Apparently the fact that Alex is a pretty enormous 12-month old rather than a newborn baby does not matter - the fact that he is 'cute' and has no hair was sufficient to secure him the leading role. Simon was slightly a more reluctant Joseph but, after 24 hours of pleading and a delicious home-cooked supper, I finally convinced him to agree. Apparently he has 'form' playing Joseph, although the last time he trod the stable boards was as an 11 year old schoolboy.

We went along to the rehearsal at church today. I only wish I possessed the ability to adequately describe the look on Simon's face when he was told that, rather than coming in towards the end of the proceedings as he had been led to believe, we would be required to sit at the front of the church for the whole 'Story of Christmas' whilst various animals, angels, shepherds and Kings come to pay their respects. Better still was his attempt to look unpeturbed when told that his 'costume' would be ready on Tuesday.  We were walked through our parts. The Holy Family enters from the back of the church and advances up the aisle to the following words:

'As night gathers, the last two travelers come slowly up the road. Look, there is a young woman about to be a mother. She is walking with her husband. They are Joseph and Mary from Nazareth!'

In a rather unusual twist to the tale, the young woman about to be a mother will actually be carrying her infant in her arms as they enter the stable; Baby Jesus's acute separation anxiety means that he is refusing to be apart from Mary and Joseph whilst they journey towards Bethlehem.

The rehearsal was predictably and splendidly chaotic: the teenage cow walked up the aisle too fast; the donkey spent most of the rehearsal texting and the Three Wise Men were unsure in which order to process. Our friend Maggie was worried that her 3-year-old son, who would be playing a sheep, would not be able to sit still on stage for the length of time required, but was told by the wonderfully reassuring Sunday School organiser that every year there is a 'Sheep Mom' worried about whether her child would wander from the flock, and it always turns out all right on the night. Toddler Jesus sat pretty angelically for the duration of the rehearsal - I'm not sure whether the Messiah needed to be bribed with rice cakes and raisins when he was in the manger, but it certainly worked for Alex. After the practice was over all the little animals wanted to pet Alex, who sat patiently before the adoring menagerie  whilst they stroked his head and kissed his cheeks. (Jesus seemed as surprised as I was to learn that the nativity scene included a duck, who narrowly avoided being trodden by one of the camels, but took it all in his beatific stride).

I appreciate that starring in the local nativity play clothed in a striped dressing gown and wearing a tea-towel was not quite the start to Christmas that Simon had anticipated. At least no-one will recognise him under all that fabric. (But for anyone that's interested, the service will be at 5pm on Christmas Eve at the Metropolitan Memorial Church on Nebraska Avenue. Just don't tell Joseph I tipped you off).

Happy Birthday to me

Hi everyone, Alex here. Now that I have reached the grand old age of one I thought it was high time I started my own blog, so I'm practising on Mummy's computer today. I had a very fun birthday yesterday and lots of my little friends came to help me celebrate. Here are some photos of me on my big day. Don't I look handsome? Mummy says she will post a quarterly report once she has finished picking up birthday cake and squashed raisins from the floor.

 
  


Lots of love,

Alex xx

The Turkey Tycoon

        

We've had a very quiet Thanksgiving holiday this year, most of it having been spent in our attic. We did venture out for Thanksgiving Day itself and had a wonderful evening involving some good friends, a lot of eating, much laughter and a game of charades. Of course, the festivities were somewhat marred by the sad news that the Turkey Tycoon, Sir Bernard Matthews, had passed away. (But what spectacular timing for the news of his death to break at Thanksgiving, and as UK families are gearing up for Christmas - yet further proof of Mr. Matthews' marketing genius). Being from Bootiful Norfolk myself (I was one of the few people at my school who did not have a holiday job skinning turkeys or working on a Turkey Twizzler production line), I was particularly interested - and actually somewhat surprised - to see that there was so much coverage of the local boy done good. The news of his death even made The Washington Post. The most entertaining obituary appeared in The Telegraph, which gave a great quote:

" Though sensitive to criticism, [Matthews] was robust in defending himself. "Turkeys have a very low IQ," he said, rejecting criticism of the conditions in his turkey houses. "All they need is food and warmth. They don't need to be taken to a cinema twice a week." "

Brilliant.

And so back to the attic. Rather than taking a trip to North Carolina, which had been our original plan, we decided to be sensible, stay home for the long weekend and start preparing for our departure. We will be leaving the US in January - a fact about which we have been, thus far, in total denial. (I keep thinking if we don't mention it then maybe the Embassy might forget that we are supposed to go home and we could just stay in Washington forever). So we have spent most of the Thanksgiving holiday clearing out the attic, packing boxes, sorting baby clothes and wondering why moving countries never gets any easier. We seem to be encountering the problem faced by every family on a diplomatic posting: one spends three years living in a nice big house in a foreign country, during which time one's possessions mysteriously expand to fit the available space, before remembering that we will be returning home to a small flat in London (or in our case my mother's house in Suffolk)  where the Persian carpets and crystal glasses seem distinctly out of place.  So we have spent the last three days dividing our worldly goods into five categories: long-term storage, medium-term storage, stuff to sell, stuff to give away and stuff we actually need when we get home. We've got the packers coming round soon to estimate whether our belongings will be within our allotted shipping allowance. I just hope they'll be able to advise us exactly how to squeeze the contents of a three-bedroomed house into four small suitcases and a couple of cardboard boxes.

Quarterly report #3

ALEX SHERCLIFF QUARTERLY REPORT - 9 MONTHS (a special update for Eloise)

Growing: Grade A-. Alex is now 31.1 inches (74cm) tall and weighs 23lb 6oz (10.7kg). This places him on the 95th percentile for height and the 90th percentile for weight. Pretty good growth in my book, but Simon thinks he still needs to pack on a few more pounds if he's going to captain England at rugby. The young man has sprouted two teeth, in the middle of the bottom gum.

Moving: Grade A+. Alex has made outstanding progress on the moving front. He started to crawl a couple of months ago and can slither on his stomach across the house at incredible speeds. He spends much of the day practising his standing poses and can make his way around the room holding on to furniture. Master Shercliff can also climb a flight of stairs unaided (as I discovered to my surprise yesterday when he appeared beside me on the landing).

Talking: Grade B. Alex's first word, pronounced at teatime on two consecutive days a couple of weeks ago, was 'raspberry' (I swear this is true, I have two witnesses), although the feat has not yet been repeated. He can also pronounce 'Mama', 'Dada' and 'Baby'; says 'Mmmm' for food, 'mi' for 'milk' and can recite the entire works of Shakespeare.                                                                                                  

Eating: Grade A. Alex is eating huge quantities of food very happily. He loves lamb casserole, lentils, ratatouille, vegetables, fruit and yoghurt. He is not at all keen on feeding himself - he seems very reluctant to put anything in his mouth that is actually meant to go there - although he did have some success last week with a teething biscuit which he chewed on happily for an hour before choking on it.

   

Travelling: Grade A+. Alex has now visited 3 countries and 13 states - which is more than most Americans manage in their entire lifetimes. He has been to Mexico, New Orleans, Nantucket, Seattle, Vancouver, Alaska, Texas, Yellowstone, Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, the Hamptons and the Grand Canyon. And one day his mother will finally post her half-written blog postings about all his adventures.

       

Motor skills: Grade A+

  

Hobbies: Unravelling toilet rolls, pulling tissues out of the box, attending rodeos, charming air stewardesses, swimming, yoga, baby music, hiking, colouring, camping, going to the zoo.

   

Overall Grade: A

Alex has made great progress since his last report. He is an absolute delight at the moment and very entertaining company. Newly acquired skills include giggling, wriggling, shaking maracas, opening cupboard doors, playing 'peek-a-boo', waving (but only to his mother and father), giving the privileged few a 'high five'. And even though his mother doesn't have a moment to herself any more, she can't imagine life without him and wouldn't change the past nine months for the world.

      
 

The Grandest of Canyons

When I was eight years old, my uncle and aunt returned from the Grand Canyon and showed us the photos and video of their trip. This was something pretty special at the time (the furthest we ventured for our holidays in those days was Hemsby) and I have been wanting to see the Grand Canyon for myself ever since. So I am very chuffed that I have finally made it to the big red hole in the ground and it was definitely worth the rather exhausting weekend jaunt.

As usual Alex was brilliant on the aeroplane - this was his 16th flight so he knows the routine by now: board plane, look really cute, tilt head to one side, make eyes at cabin crew, find seat, clamber up back of seat, play peek-a-boo with passenger behind, eat headrest, grab seat in front, stroke hair of passenger in front, find emergency landing instruction card in seat pocket, eat emergency landing instruction card, squirm down to floor, try to crawl under seat, repeat routine for five hours. Incidentally, if anyone is planning a quick trip to Arizona for the weekend, please note that the Grand Canyon state doesn't observe daylight savings and that you can add an hour to the four hour flight and two hour time difference you are expecting. Which is fine if you are relaxing in business class, but not so fine if you have Alex the mountain climber on your lap.

We flew to Phoenix, where it was 99'F in the shade, hired a car and headed up towards the Grand Canyon. The landscape upon leaving Phoenix was just as I had imagined - dry, deserted fields, spiky saguaro cacti on the hills, dusty pink soil, red rock cliffs. The only thing missing (apart from Wile E. Coyote and Road Runner) was the four-lane highway; the two-lane interstate was completely unable to cope with the traffic, and we crawled along at 30 mph for an hour or more (something we should have taken note of for our journey home, ahem). Alex the angel traveller was not quite his usual self on the car journey, but this may well have been due to the fact that we woke him up at 5am (in my excitement when making the booking, I somehow neglected to notice that our 7am departure left from Baltimore rather than from Washington DC), subjected him to a five hour flight, a three hour time difference and a four hour drive in a car seat that I realised an hour into the journey was only supposed to be used for babies up to 21 pounds. Alex weighs almost 24lbs. But I'm pleased to say that the baby yoga classes I have been subjecting him to finally paid off as he sat with his legs scrunched up round his ears, chanting 'omm'.

We stopped at Flagstaff for lunch and filled up on burgers and milkshakes at the Downtown Diner, a pit-stop just off the iconic Route 66. Flagstaff, which was founded in the 1880s, is apparently Northern Arizona's 'liveliest and most attractive town', but to be honest I felt it looked like pretty much any other small town in America. To be fair, Flagstaff does differentiate itself by having a discernible centre and streets one can actually stroll along, but I hardly felt that it exuded the 'Wild West charm' that our guide book had promised. Most of the buildings were modern and red brick and there was nothing that particularly 'wowed' me (although Simon may have a different opinion as the main attraction seemed to be 'Babbitts' Backcountry Outfitters', an outdoor store specialising in 'technical outerwear', 'rugged clothing', 'climbing gear' and 'packs and tents'.

On our way out of town, we visited the extensive Museum of Northern Arizona, which had interesting sections on the geology, history, crafts and peoples of the Colorado Plateau, including exhibits on the Navajo, Hopi and Havasupai cultures. It looked pretty interesting, although I mostly admired the inner courtyard, where I fed Alex and walked him up and down in his stroller. I did however manage to spend some time in a temporary exhibition on 'Ed Mell - Paintings of the New West', whose distinctive desert landscapes were stunning.

As we journeyed from Flagstaff to the Grand Canyon, the landscape changed significantly, becoming much more verdant. We passed through huge green expanses of ponderosa pine, including  the Kaibab National Forest (sadly, pronounced 'kie-bab', not 'kebab' but which made us chuckle all the same). We were keen to reach the Grand Canyon by sunset, so we pressed on to our destination - although I was gutted not to  have had time to visit the Flintstone's Bedrock City attraction which we passed on the highway. It's not every day that one is offered the opportunity of seeing a 'man-made hatching pterodactyl, man-made Fred and Barney cars and Goatasauruses' (the website assured us that 'these are real goats').

Our first glimpse of the Canyon itself was from the terrace overlook outside our hotel. We were staying in the Bright Angel Lodge, located right on the edge of the South Rim, with stunning views across the canyon. We pulled up outside just as the sun was setting - and ran to see the panorama. It was truly breath-taking and worth every inch of the journey. And I'm sure Simon would have agreed had he not spent 20 minutes trying to find a parking spot whilst the sun vanished over the canyon...

Quarterly report #2

ALEX SHERCLIFF QUARTERLY REPORT - 6 MONTHS

    

Growing: Grade A. Still packing on the pounds, the young man now weighs 21lbs, 6oz. For those of you who don't do pounds and ounces I think it's about 9.5kg. It is also the weight of the average adult raccoon. He is 29 inches long. I'm not sure how many cm that is but our son is the same length as a large Turquoise necklace available on Amazon. 

Sleeping: Grade A+. The Shercliff Snoozer continues to impress with his 12 hour sleeping marathons (sorry). Much to the delight of his parents, his latest trick is being to settle himself to sleep by playing with Sophie the Giraffe in his cot, which is a massive leap forward as we no longer have to listen to him wailing for ten minutes before he dozes off.

Eating: Grade B. The solid food capers have begun and Master Alex has now graduated from baby rice to banana, apple, bear and sweet potato. (Sorry, that should have read pear - but perhaps we'll experiment with bear in Alaska). He has mastered the art of sitting in the high chair until supper is served and is already undergoing etiquette training so he knows which spoon to use for each course at diplomatic play-dates. Excellent progress, although sometimes it still all just gets a bit much.

     

Movement: Grade B. Alex can now roll from tummy to back and from back to tummy, which means that the days of leaving him stranded in the middle of the bed are over. He has a thorough grasp of the fundamentals of yoga: he has perfected the table pose, rocking back vigorously on all fours whenever he gets a chance, and sleeps in a (very sweet) child's pose, with his bottom in the air.

Reading: Grade C. A downgrade from the last report as Alex now believes that books are for eating not reading. 

Teething: Grade F. No sign of anything in his mouth yet except his hands.

Communication skills: Grade D. Alex can now pronounce ma-ma, da-da and ga-ga and is working his way through the basics of Spanish grammar. 

Singing: Grade C. Alex squeals happily to himself for hours on end in a very proud manner which indicates he thinks his squeaks are tuneful. Much as Alex enjoys his baby music classes, I fear he may take after his tone-deaf father. 

Smiling: Grade A+. Excellent progress.

     

Overall Grade: B

Alex is a popular young man who socialises well, especially with older ladies. He is a good all-rounder and has made excellent progress over the past three months. Close attention to those areas identified above will pay dividends, although Alex should take care not to work too hard on the crawling as his mother is still keen to have the odd half-hour to herself during the day. Well done Alex.

Nantucket

 "Nantucket! Take out your map and look at it. See what a real corner of the world it occupies; how it stands there, away off shore, more lonely than the Eddystone lighthouse. Look at it - a mere hillock, an elbow of sand; all beach, without a background. There is more sand there than you would use in twenty years as a substitute for blotting paper". Moby Dick, Chapter 14. 

And so to Nantucket, for a week of relaxation, home-cooked meals, catching up with good friends, cycling in the sunshine and being woken several times a night by a small child fighting his way out of his travel cot. This small island, just off the coast of Cape Cod, Massachussetts, is famous for its maritime history, its cranberries, its artistic output, its lightship baskets and for boasting more celebrity vacation homes per square inch than almost anywhere else in the US. (The lawns and hedges are not quite as well-manicured as The Hamptons, but come pretty close. And, yes, Nantucket also has Plum TV). Nantucket was once home to the biggest whaling port in the world and the island's nautical heritage is hard to escape: On our street alone, we had an 'Anchor Inn', a 'Cliff Lodge' and a 'Captain Gardiner's House', as well as a 'Scrimshander Gallery' and a 'Brotherhood of Thieves' pub. And when the mist came up in the evening, one could almost imagine Ishmael and Queequeg scouring dark, cobbled streets for Mrs Hussey and the Try Pots inn. Although I'm not sure what they would have made of the designer boutiques. 

  
 
Unsurprisingly, atmospheric Nantucket is the setting for a large number of films, books, songs, poems and novels - Edgar Allan Poe, Dylan Thomas and Robert Lowell all took inspiration here. As did Billy Joel. But most famous of all is that literary tour de force, the most-hailed of all American classics, memorized and quoted by every schoolchild in the land: ''There once was a man from Nantucket...'. And Moby Dick runs a close second.

  
 
We rented a house with our friends Katy, Simon, Dom & Vicky and their children, and had a fantastic week on the island. Early May is a great time of year to visit, being just ahead of the season, when the population of the island jumps from 10,000 to 50,000. It must be said that the Nantucket pace of life was pretty tough; it took me two days to leave the sofa and four days to work up the energy to cycle to a yoga class. However, we did make it as far as Siasconset (pronounced 'Sconset') for an afternoon on the beach and on our last day even visited the island's main tourist attraction: the fascinating Whaling Museum - where I must admit we spent a disproportionate amount of time trying to convince the children to pose for a photo. This was as close as we got to a decent shot. And this was as close as we got to a whale:

    

And then, all too swiftly, these particular shipmates were packing their bags and heading back to shore. But not before purchasing another famous literary tome to remind us of our holiday: Good Night Nantucket. Thank you for sharing a wonderful day...

Tehran Tigers Triumph & Kentuck Knob

     

 

We spent this weekend in Ohiopyle, Pennsylvania where the Tehran Tigers were competing in their final adventure race before Etienne moves to Vietnam later this year and Simon finally accepts that it is time to hang up his running shoes, kayak and compass. This was the third time that the Tehran Tigers have taken place in the Yough Extreme Adventure Race and, having secured second place on the two previous occasions, the Tigers were hungry for victory. So hungry, in fact, that they decided to deploy their secret weapon: Uncle Mark. And I'm delighted to report that their strategy worked: after 12 miles of running, 25 miles of mountain biking and 9 miles of kayaking, the Tigers were declared victors in the 3-man category. The 8-person support crew arrived in Ohiopyle just in time to see our glorious heroes each awarded a lovely shiny medal as a reward for their 10 hours of pain.

     

 

The following day, after a brief stroll around Fallingwater (the Frank Lloyd Wright masterpiece that I visited on our previous trip), Etienne and his family took to the water again - this time for some white-water rafting, accompanied by Uncle Mark. Simon and I had offered to look after Etienne & Agnes's youngest child, Luc, for the day. Luc, who is almost 3, was quite excited at the prospect of spending some time with young Alex, about whom he apparently talks continously (to the extent that his mother, Agnes, was asked by Luc's nursery teacher to explain exactly who 'Baby Alex' was).

After a leisurely lunch in Ohiopyle, Simon, the two youngsters and I set off on the drive back home, stopping on route to visit Kentuck Knob, another Frank Lloyd Wright house situated just a couple of miles outside Ohiopyle. Or at least, I spent an hour touring the house and sculture garden; Simon spent an hour looking after Alex and Luc, and learning about potty training the hard way. (I returned back at the car after my tour to be informed that Luc was now 'going commando' as a result of a little accident).

   

Kentuck Knob was designed in 1953 for I.N. and Bernadine Hagan, purveyors of 'Pittsburgh's favourite ice cream', when Frank Lloyd Wright was already 86 years old. At an age when most people would think about slowing down a little, FLW was so busy working on commissions (including the Guggenheim Museum in New York, the Beth Shalom Synagogue in Elkins Park and a dozen residential homes) that he agreed to design the house for the Hagans, but only visited the site once, when construction was already well under way. Which makes his design all the more impressive, given how seamlessly the house is moulded into its surroundings - the building is nestled into a hill and, like Fallingwater, is a wonderful example of Wright's 'organic architecture'. As is the case with the Pope-Leighey House in Alexandria, Virginia that I have blogged about previously, Kentuck Knob was designed as a Usonian home. The design, based on a series of hexagonal modules, was originally much smaller than the finished home, but Mrs. Hagan somehow managed to persuade Lloyd Wright that she needed a space bigger than a broom cupboard in which to entertain guests, and he agreed to enlarge it. The one-storey house forms a crescent shape, with two wings sweeping out from the hexagonal kitchen, the 'architectural core' of the home. 

Kentuck Knob is now owned by Lord Palumbo, property developer and art connisseur, who acquired it from the Hagans for $600,000 in 1986. As a result, the grounds now boast a very impressive sculpture garden which includes works by Andy Goldsworthy (Floodstones Cairn (1991-2003) and Room (1992)), Anthony Caro and Claes Oldenburg (Apple Core, 1990). Best of all was Ray Smith's Red Army, with Harry Bertoia's Sonambient sound sculptures a close second. Palumbo has also installed a number of red telephone boxes and a post box imported from the UK in the gardens - this corner of a foreign field is certainly trying quite hard to be England. 

            

The Tehran Tigercubs bonded in the car on the way home by stroking each other's hands and communicating in a series of high-pitched squeals, which seemed to entertain them both enough to while away the miles. I'm happy to report that Luc was returned without incident to his parents, once Simon had given the boys a blow-by-blow account of the Tigers' victory. Happy days.