Days 109-118: Christmas in Nottingham

Nottingham as viewed from the castle

I have to admit that I didn't know what to expect from my stay in Nottingham. I was staying with my great aunt and uncle (on my dad's side) who I had only met once before when I was just 12. It was also my first Christmas away from home, and I was worried that homesickness (which hadn't hit that hard so far) might be more of a problem once it finally sunk in that I wouldn't be with my family over Christmas. 

In the end, though, I had an absolutely lovely time. I got along really well with my great aunt and uncle and I enjoyed getting to know them better (I have to say that, since they're probably reading this blog, but it's true!) They took such good care of me-- four course breakfasts, anyone?-- and had new sightseeing plans every day. After the stress of exams, a busy but relaxing Christmas was exactly what I needed. There was plenty to do, but also lots of time for sitting in the living room reading or watching telly (like the Doctor Who Christmas special- so many tears!)

Probably the best way to describe my stay is to go over it day by day:

Auntie Diana and I with Robin Hood

Friday the 20th
Shopping in Nottingham. I was introduced to John Lewis (an upmarket department store) and taken to Waterstones (a bookstore) where Uncle Paul invited me to choose any book I wanted for a Christmas present. In true English-nerd fashion, I choose the facsimile of the original drafts of T. S. Eliot's 'The Wasteland.' We also said hi to my pal Robin Hood where he stands outside Nottingham castle.

Saturday the 21st

Newstead Abbey, the home of Lord Byron

In a day of contrasts, uncle Paul and I first visited D. H. Lawrence's humble birthplace (he was the son of a coal manner) before touring Newstead Abbey, which was originally a 13th century monastery before it was sold to the Byron family, the last of which was the famous poet Lord Byron. It was neat to see two such different sides of Nottingham's literary history.

Sunday the 22nd
I got to meet my dad's two cousins and their kids (my second cousins? My cousins once removed? I dunno...) on a family trip to Calke Abbey, a stately home out in the countryside. While I preferred Newstead Abbey, it was lovely to meet my extended family, and we all had a great time shepherding the kids around.

Monday the 23rd 

Lincoln Cathedral

After picking up the Christmas turkey from Mark's and Spencer's (which was a proper British experience, involving queuing for nearly an hour) we took off for Lincoln cathedral to meet some friends of mine from back home. These friends are British originally, but they've been living in Canada, ten minutes from my parent's house, for the past five years. Back in Britain for Christmas, they had brought some presents from my family (TIM HORTON'S CAPPUCCINO POWDER!!!!) and had offered to take some gifts back from me for my family.
Aside from the gift exchange, it was really nice to see some familiar faces and to spend some time together exploring the cathedral. The sheer oldness of these English buildings never ceases to amaze me; I just don't understand how buildings as absolutely magnificent as those cathedrals could have been built almost 800 years ago.

Tuesday the 24th
Uncle Paul and aunty Diana took me on a family tour of Nottingham, stopping at all the places that they had lived, and showing me where my great grandmother lived for a few years. It was fascinating to hear about family history and to see how long Uncle Paul's family had been in Nottingham. 
We also went to the local church to see the bells and ended up staying for the Christingle service. To anyone who doesn't know what a Christingle is: google it. I'm not even going to try to explain. 

My Christingle and hymnal

Wednesday the 25th
Christmas was a relatively quiet day. We went to church in the morning and I got to bell-ring! My great aunt and uncle are bell-ringers at their parish church, so they took me up with them to watch. Then the head bell-ringer asked me if I'd like to try, so he helped me ring the fourth bell in a few 'rounds.' Definitely a Christmas highlight!
For the rest of the day, we ate excessive amounts of food, drank good wine, and watched what Britain had to offer in the way of Christmas telly (Call the Midwife, Doctor Who, and Downton Abbey). 

Thursday the 26th

Christmas Day Bell-Ringing

Boxing Day was similarly quiet, with one of my second cousins + family coming over for dinner. We are more food, drank more wine, and watched more telly. This time, we also had my very amusing second-cousin-once-removed (I'm gonna go with that) for entertainment. At 18 months, he was far more interested in his toy vacuum than in opening any new presents.

Friday the 27th
Since it was my final day in Nottingham, we had to pack in all the big things I hadn't seen yet, which, crucially, included Sherwood Forest. Had I been expecting the greenwood, with Robin Hood and his Merry Men feasting beneath, I would have been sorely disappointed. These days, after most of the huge trees were cut down for shipbuilding, the Forest is just like any other. However, a number of ancient trees do remain, including the Major Oak, which is supposedly 1000 years old.
We then went back to Nottingham (stopping at yet another country house for lunch and detouring through a 3 mile long road double-lined with lime trees) to visit the Castle, and, more importantly, the caves beneath. Nottingham rests on sandstone, so underneath the city is a complex network of caves, none more important than the ones beneath the castle keep, which allowed food to come in during sieges, or soldiers to sneak in intent on kidnapping a king. Nowadays they have a small section of these tunnels open on a guided tour, which was fascinating.

Climbing a tree in Sherwood Forest

Saturday the 28th
We all woke up bright and early so I could catch the 7:45 train to Newmarket, where I was staying with a friend from St. Andrews. On our way, uncle Paul recounted an amusing story where my uncle Mark had been staying with them some years earlier and had missed his train to London, meaning that uncle Paul ended up driving him half way to London to catch the train at the transfer. We had a good laugh over the story, but arrived at Nottingham station in a bit of a rush, just a few minutes before my train was scheduled to leave.
Now, I don't know if it was my fault, or the train station's fault, but we ended up waiting for my train at platform four, when we should have been at platform 3b. About two minutes before departure, we realized we were at the wrong platform. 30 seconds before departure we saw my train at platform 3b, which was about twenty feet away from us... across two sets of tracks. So we ran down the platform, climbed the stairs to cross over the tracks... and watched my train chug cheerfully away without me.

Auntie Diana and my little cousin

The most economical thing to do at this point would have been to wait for the next train (40 minutes later) and tell the conductor my sob story and hope he wouldn't make me buy another ticket. Instead, uncle Paul was wonderful and offered to drive me to Newmarket, an hour and a half away. I gratefully accepted his offer (thanks again, Uncle Paul!) and we set off for Newmarket, where we met my St. Andrew's friend, and a new chapter of my adventures began.


So. That was Nottingham. I really enjoyed my time there, both the company and the places we went, and I look forward to visiting again. My great aunt and uncle love gardening, so I plan to return in the summer, when everything will be in full bloom.

But for now, this post is long enough. I hope you've enjoyed the small selection of photos-- I have so many more, but no time to go through and edit them all!

Days 122-123: Travel Live-Blog

Entry 1: 15:27h, England, East Anglia Trains

I'm on the road again. Or, in this particular case, I'm on the train, but I'll be hitting the road soon enough. I'm currently on a train from Cambridge to London, where I'll catch an overnight bus that will take me to Amsterdam. From Amsterdam, another train will get me to Friesland, a northern province of holland, where my mum's side of the family is from.

I'm a little tired, since the past few weeks have been so busy. Christmas in Nottingham was just wonderful- I reconnected with my great aunt and uncle, met their kids and grand kids, and visited so many historical sites (like lord Byron's house, Sherwood Forest, and Nottingham castle). I'll post a full account of my adventures once I get back to St. Andrews and can load all my photos on to my laptop. For now, just know that I had a lovely first Christmas away from home.

For the past weekend I've been in Newmarket, visiting a friend I met in St. Andrews. I got to see a bit of Newmarket, Cambridge, and Ely, as well as just spending some time with my friend's family. For New Years, we went to another friend's house where we rang in 2014 with some fireworks and a rousing chorus of Auld Lang Syne.

Ah! I'm in London! The train is moving rather slowly now, and in the distance I can see the Shard and the Gherkin. It's rather cloudy here, so I may take the tube to the bus stop rather than the hour long walk. Either way, it's time to start packing up my stuff and prepare for a few brief hours in London.


Entry 2:18:17h, London, Victoria coach station

I walked here. In the dark. And the rain. And it took me an hour and a half.

And I enjoyed it.

Alright, I admit that I wasn't having the greatest time toward the end, when I was walking through non-descript streets with soaking feet, a growling stomach, and a heavy bag. But until then, when I was strolling along the riverside walk, with Big Ben and the London Eye lit up against the sky... I enjoyed it despite the rain.

I'm not sure quite why I decided to walk. The tube station was right there and would have gotten me here so quickly and fairly cheaply. But instead I walked, and got cold and wet... and saw London.

I'm glad I walked.


Entry 3: 11:44h, Friesland, Drachten Bus Station

Well then. That was not exactly the most enjoyable of nights. But, then again, I didn't choose the overnight bus because I thought it would be fun. I didn't properly sleep at all, and, since it was dark, I didn't really see any of the three countries that we passed through. We stopped for half an hour at a service station in France and I was too tired to get out of the bus.

An unexpected addition to the journey was a ferry ride from Dover to Calais. I had assumed we'd be taking the tunnel, so I was a little surprised when we turned up at the ferry terminal. I really wish it had been daytime, because I caught some tantalizing glimpses of the white cliffs of Dover and I would have loved to see them properly. Also, a ferry ride to France could have been really exciting, but since it was 1am the day after New Year's, I just sort of half-slept and didn't see much.

But I'm here now. In Friesland. Waiting for my mom's cousin to pick me up. It's more than a little odd being here, in a country where English isn't an official language. What's even weirder is the fact that my family comes from here. Around the same time that my dad's parents emigrated from England, my mom's parents came over from Holland. I belong here in the same way as I belong in England. We'll see if, by the end of my stay, it starts to feel like home.

Day 109: I'm [Not] Going Home For Christmas

As I write this, I'm sitting on a train between York and Newark, on my way to Nottingham. I left St. Andrews early this morning, and I won't be back until the end of January. In the next month and a half I'll be visiting as many as ten countries... but Canada won't be one of them.

Do I mind not going home for Christmas? Yes, of course. Whenever my Christmas playlist gets to 'I'm Going Home for Christmas' I can't help but feel a little sad. For the first time in my life, I won't be there for the Christmas crackers, or the 'rounds' of presents, or decorating the tree. With Christmas being such a family-oriented holiday, I can't help but wish that I was going to be at home for it.

But... I'm okay that I'm not. At this point in my life, it just made so much more sense for me to stay on this side of the pond. Money was a big factor (my month-long Europe tour will cost less than the flight home), as was travel time. If I went back to Canada for three weeks then I'd only have two weeks for travel, which isn't near enough for everything I want to see.

Finally, it would just feel odd to go home now. I've settled in over here. For a year, I'm living in Scotland. The year is supposed to be all new, and a challenge, and an adventure. To go back to Canada during that year, back to everything familiar, would somehow feel wrong.

Christmas will be different this year, but then again, it's a different sort of year. I'll be in Nottingham, with my great aunt and uncle, so I'll still be with family, just ones I don't know that well (yet!). Then I'll be in London over New Years, watching the fireworks, which will likely be more exciting than playing board games at home. ;) And then, instead of sitting at home enjoying a PEI winter, I'll explore Europe for a month.

At this point, I'm just excited. I'm sad I won't be home over Christmas, but I'm still glad I'm not going back. I'm ready to meet more people and see the world. I'm ready for a 'different' Christmas.

Day 80: England!

I'm in England.

We've just gone through Newcastle and York and a whole bunch of other places, and in just over an hour we'll be in London.

I'm so excited. Back when it was actually light and I could see the countryside, I just couldn't stop looking out the window and smiling. The train ride from Edinburgh to London is just so gorgeous. It goes right along the coast, presenting some lovely views of the ocean.

It's dark now, so I can't see much, but whenever we go through a city I can catch a glimpse of some of the larger buildings, like a church with stained glass windows lit up. I'm a little sad that I'll arrive in London at seven pm, so I really won't be able to see much, but I can afford to wait until tomorrow.

But... I'm in England. It really shouldn't be this exciting; after all, I've been in the UK for the past three months. Still, there's something exhilarating about entering a new country.

It's not just any country, either. It's England, the country where all my favourite authors lived. The country where my grandparents came from. The country I've wanted to visit my entire life.

I can't believe I'm here. The odd thing is that, despite how this is all completely new to me, it still feels like coming home. This is where my roots are. Maybe I'm Canadian, but my ancestors (well, on my dad's side) were English. I'm going back to where my family came from.

London should be amazing. The purpose of my visit is to attend the Doctor Who fiftieth anniversary convention this weekend (which means I get to see Matt Smith and Colin Baker and so many other cool people... Jealous yet?) but since I'm here all the way until Monday I'll get to do a lot of other things too, like hopefully see some plays, visit the British museum, and see some landmarks like Big Ben.

I just can't stop saying this.... I'm so excited! This trip is, quite literally, a dream come true. By the time I post this (no wifi on the train, so gotta wait until I get to the house of the friend of a friend who I'm staying with to post this blog) I'll be in London. I can't wait.

Two Days Left

Apparently I’m leaving in two days.

Two days.

In 48 hours I’ll be on a plane over the Atlantic ocean, and in 72 hours I should have arrived in the town that’ll be my home for the next year.

That’s not terrifying at all…

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous, and scared, and just really didn’t want to go. Sometimes I think I’d give anything to just get to stay here with my family and my friends and the country that I’ve always called home. But then I realize that no one is forcing me to go, that I could just drop out of the exchange and go back to King’s or UPEI or just sit in my room and read…

But I’m not doing that. That’s not an option. Because no matter how terrifying it is to leave my country, it’s still something I’ve dreamed of doing all my life. It’s an adventure, and there is absolutely no way I could ever back out.

So, really, I’m not terrified. Pre-departure jitters, sure, that sometimes end up feeling a bit like real fear. But they’re not, because I know everything will be alright, and I know I’ll have a fantastic time, and, as much as I love everything here, I really won’t miss it all that much when I’m gone.

Last night, to try and get myself in the mood, I looked through the catalogue of Fresher’s Week (orientation week) events for St. Andrew’s and picked out the ones I’m interested in attending. There’s everything from choosing courses to fireworks to drama workshops to pub nights… So much to do, and I have absolutely no idea how I’ll have the energy for it all, but it sure sounds fantastic.

Everything else is pretty much set. I have housing, and flights, and funding, and all the big important things are taken care of. Of course, once I get to St. Andrew’s I have to set up a bank account and get a phone and order my coursebooks and all that kind of thing, but for now there’s nothing more I can do.

Now is the calm before the storm. Two last days of PEI before my world changes forever…

That might just be a little overly dramatic. But I am a writer—dramatic is what I do. And right now nothing looms larger in my mind than Monday morning…