Settling in

My life is different now. I used to live in Canada and be Canadian. Then I lived in the Netherlands and felt like a bit like an outsider in their country. Now I live in Britain and I am still Canadian. Yesterday at the supermarket the cashier asked me where I was from because she liked my accent. If the same cashier had been there the week prior she might not have had to ask since I was proudly buying some Canadian maple syrup for the pancakes Nina would make on the weekend.

On our first “real” weekend in Leicester (“real” being the first weekend when we could relax a bit and not spend the whole weekend working on our house) we took an evening drive into the country. We saw a bit of the scenery, but unfortunately the country roads seem to be paralleled by hedge rows that blocked the views into and over the fields.

We were looking for a little town that looked inviting enough for us to stop in the local pub for supper. Unfortunately we never found it. We drove for some time before heading back and settling on a pub on the outskirts of Leicester that seemed almost more American than British. Next time we will do some research before leaving opposed to my method of just driving with the hopes of coming across a perfect little hamlet.

I decided to take mom’s advice and bought a picture frame that could hold nine photographs. I went through all my Amsterdam pictures and was able to narrow it down to 35 of my favourites. Then, Nina I went through them until we were down to nine which I had printed out and arranged in the frame. It rests on the wall in our entry hallway and I see it every time I enter or leave the kitchen (which, as you would imagine, is fairly often). Also remember, my office is only accessible through the kitchen.

We still needed a few pieces of furniture in order to complete our living room. We found a second-hand furniture shop that looked tiny with its two parking spaces out front and crammed between other businesses on either side. Above was an ambitious sign promising 12000 sq ft of used furniture. We walked in amid the rows of tables, sofas, cabinets and chairs. From room to room we walked, spending almost a half hour browsing before finally coming to the last room in this maze that seemed to stretch a full block away from the starting point. We emerged with a bookcase, set of three tables that fit within each other and a TV stand. This whole experience lightened out wallets by ₤45 and all three pieces were constructed from a red wood that matched the existing items in our living room.

We found an advertisement on Gumtree — Britain’s answer to Craigslist — for a mahogany coffee table that would finish our living room and perfectly match the other items we bought. We spent a Sunday driving the 30 minutes to Loughborough. Nina haggled the lady down from ₤20 to 18 and we left with the table.

On the way back to Leicester we saw signs advertising an old steam train, so we followed the signs to a tiny village in the countryside. On the edge of the village was a restored train station where antique trains were run throughout the year. On this particular weekend they were running old diesel trains, which offered rides and dining experiences onboard for the eager. We opted to sit at the station café with cappuccinos and watch the excitement on the platform.

One old steam locomotive did pull up pumping white steam into the air and chugging to a stop. It was a remarkable old train from 1912. It was on loan from the National Railway Museum in York. I walked over to the cabin where the engineers were standing to see the bright orange glow of the coal burning. All the pipes running below the locomotive were dripping hot water and it was amazing to see the size of the pistons and to think that it was essentially fuelled by fire and water.

We had walked into town one day to The Lanes, the pedestrian section of town full of shops. On the way we had noticed an odd sign warning of elderly people. Neither of us had seen a sign like this before and found it amusing. When we were in Loughborough picking up the coffee table two weeks ago, we saw the same sign warning of blind people. They must have a real problem in this country with elderly and disabled people attacking bystanders.

I realized I had been here for weeks already and had hardly taken my camera out. As the weather has been remarkably good (19 days and counting since the last rain) I decided to go our and shoot my neighbourhood. One of the focal points of the Stoneygate neighbourhood is Victoria Park which acts like a barrier between the University of Leicester and Stoneygate. On weekends it is full of rugby and soccer players as well as family and sunbathers on its large expanses of grass and fields.

On the edge of the park on busy London Road, which runs down to the train station and into downtown, is St James Church. I was surprised to see the sign they had out front making reference to the Jewish New Year.

Speaking of that, from my dining room table I frequently see Jews migrating past our house on the weekends, all dressed up as if they are off to a wedding (or Synagogue). They are always heading in the direction of St James Church, although I am confident that is not where they are heading to. I have yet to discover their location.

Although, that being said, I was walking down Queens Road last weekend and saw a Synagogue. Queens Road ends (or starts) at Victoria Park and is the shopping street for Stoneygate. It offers three of four blocks of neighbourhood shops including all the essentials; bakery, butcher, flower shop, green grocer, hardware, salons, pharmacy, library, bank, post office and countless cafes, pubs and small restaurants. A block after the shops end is a subtle building that looks like an old warehouse. If it wasn’t for the banner affixed to the front, I would have never known it was a Synagogue. While walking back home, I took a side street I hadn’t walked before. Stoneygate is akin to Shaughnessy in the way the houses are enormous and the streets are all tree-lined. Although, the pieces of property the houses sit on are barely bigger than the footprints of the homes.

I came across another Synagogue or some form of Jewish community building that was residing in a renovated house. As with the Queens Road Synagogue, this one was very subtle and easy to miss. After seeing how bold the Churches and Mosques are in Leicester, I was a little perplexed at the subtlety of these buildings. It almost seemed like they were apologetic.

I have gone to Derby twice now. Derby, like Loughborough is a neighbouring town about a half hour away from Leicester. Leicester is in the shire of Leicestershire and Derby is in the shire of Derbyshire. As you can imagine, not all towns sit within a shire baring their own name.

Derby is where I will be attending some university classes this semester. My first visit was to meet the head of the Media Writing program. When I had initially written to him he was intrigued by the fact that I am a Technical Writer as he had some interest in adding a tech writing component to his program.

I went to the meeting expecting the majority of the time would be spent discussing the modules I wanted to take. As it turned out, we had a 2 ½ hour meeting that was mostly spent talking about a project he wanted me to develop with the university’s corporate department. They are trying to strengthen their ties with local industry which involves defining a need in the market and offering a course or workshop to meet that need. He wanted me to find the need and meet it. If I am able to put together a reasonable proposal, money is available and he sees it as a backdoor for me to enter the university where he sees more opportunities.

This was all a little overwhelming and unexpected, so he put me in touch with the head of the corporate office as that is the person who was eager to introduce a technical writing component. I have a meeting with him next week when I start my classes (two birds, one stone) and hope to leave that meeting with a sense of where I should begin.

I decided to walk back across town to the train station opposed to taking the bus. Derby looked like most other smallish country towns; fighting to maintain the heritage of its past while growing and keeping up with the modern demands of a city.

Last Saturday was an open house at the university so Nina spent a few hours there in the afternoon. I vacuumed the house, washed the dishes and after finishing my chores, decided to reward myself with my first real exploratory bike ride around Leicester. It was a little more difficult than I had anticipated. First of all, I have become used to riding on the flattest ground this planet offers. Leicester has hills. Secondly, I have also become accustomed to having my own dedicated path where I only interact with other cyclists. Here, for the majority of the time, I am on the road sharing space with the traffic. And thirdly, getting comfortable driving on the opposite side of the road is (strangely) different from getting used to cycling on the opposite side of the road.

I didn’t take a map with me, I just road into town and explored. I was getting a little disheartened as it seemed all the places I chose to go were derelict or run down. Perhaps I had made all the wrong turns, but I was seeing an ugly side of Leicester I hadn’t noticed from the perspective of the car before. I was searching for the River Soar and must have got turned around as I had a hard time finding it. I finally did, or so I thought, but it was a lot narrower than I had thought and looked more like a drainage canal than a river. I followed it and was horrified this was the best Leicester had to offer in the way of water. It looked industrial in nature and had garbage and old equipment strewn along its side. I was sadly making peace with the thought that I would not enjoy riding here.

I had enough! I was ready to abandon my ride altogether and go back home defeated. After the magic of Amsterdam’s canals, I was not going to ride along the side of this wastewater canal. I saw a parking lot just above me on my right side, so I turned off, road up the small embankment and found myself in a different world. I was on the edge of Abbey Park, the most beautiful park Leicester offers. Sitting on the ruins of an old Abbey, the park’s name is actually quite obvious. From my line of site I could see perfectly manicured islands of flower beds boasting hues of yellow and orange amidst the green grass. I rode toward it and could see a lake just beyond with ducks and geese. I rode around the edge of the lake, along a field with a lone gazebo to a handsome stone bridge crossing the real River Soar. After looking at a map I realised the river forks off to the canal I saw earlier, but now, I was looking at the real river which was a hell of a lot better.

I road up river a mile or so to the National Space Centre which is a housed in a building that looks as if it belongs in space. This is the area of Leicester they have cordoned off to build high-tech industry. At this point it is just a sign advertising what is to come.

The following Sunday was sunny and warm so I took Nina to Abbey Park for the afternoon to show off my find. We sat on the grass enjoying carrot cake bought at the park café. Nina wanted an afternoon kip in the sun so I left her alone and did some exploring.

It seems common in British parks to have a miniature railway for the kids. Then again, I am basing this assumption on this park and Hove park where I have many a happy memory of riding the tiny train.

The track in Abbey Park was fairly large and on this day there were multiple trains operating. To my glee and surprise, many of these miniature trains were fully operational steam trains. I spoke to the ‘engineer’ while his train was being loaded up with cargo (kids) and he confirmed it operated exactly the same way as a full-sized steam train, only in miniature. I found this quite amusing.

I met Nina at school for lunch one day and she showed me around the campus a bit. There are three tall towers that dominate the university and one of them offers a unique way to ascend the 16 storeys; a paternoster elevator.

I had never heard of one of these things before and had to look it up on the Internet in order to fully understand how it works. I recommend you do the same as I am sure I will not be able to accurately describe it. When you are standing in the hall looking at the elevator, there are two; one on the right for going up and one on the left for going down. There are no elevator doors because it is a constant stream of elevator cars one after another. As it glides by you jump on or off and when you are riding on it, you can see the space between the floors. The downside is the danger factor, but the upside is that you don’t have to wait for an elevator as they are constant.

After waiting two weeks, our bed frame arrived. It was difficult to find a bed frame for a super king size bed in this country, which I find puzzling. You can find super king size mattresses fairly easily, but finding a frame is another matter. We finally found a frame we liked and ordered it.

In the meantime it occurred to us we had made a bit of a mistake. Our bedroom has a lot of fitted furniture including two side tables for either side of the bed. We measured the space between them to ensure a super king bed frame would fit and we were OK there. What we hadn’t factored in was the overhang of the tabletops on the side tables as they jutted out a far distance. We realized, after we bought it, that the headboard would not be able to fit between them!

As we bought a wooden frame, we contacted the handyman our landlord uses for all the maintenance work around the house. He came by and lopped the headboard off allowing the frame to slide in between the bedside tables.

Now, our bedroom is complete.