What Could Have Been, What Could Be.

The seasons in the UK are much more defined than back in Australia. There isn't a gradual shift, no crossfades like in a movie, just a morning where you look outside and the world has changed. One day you're wearing a coat and scarf while you walk the dogs, the next you're wondering whether to even bother with a jacket. It's a clear shift in light, colour palette and mood. Even the sounds seem different. Birdsong shifts gear, the air seems more alert. And each time it happens I find myself pausing, taking stock, wondering whether these quiet sudden seasonal pivots happened back in Australia and I just missed them, or whether the seasons over there truly blurred.

Maybe as I get older, I pay more attention, am more aware. Maybe the landscape and the climate make it more obvious. Or maybe living this far north means you can’t help but notice when the days start to stretch, when the mornings are brighter a little earlier, and the afternoons are reluctant to let go of their light. The change slowly settles in, but at some point it simply feels as if the new season has crept in while you were looking the other way. That point was during last week.

Perhaps it's the changing seasons, but I've had reason to reflect the past few weeks, thinking back to things that have happened and what might have been. Times when I made decisions - sliding door moments - which led me to where I am now. Opportunities ignored, missed or lost. And for the most part I have few regrets. I was disappointed on a couple of occasions when plans fell apart or simply didn't come to fruition. A few I stretched for but was either not skilled enough or couldn't reach high enough to grasp.

I hear people say that it ‘would have happened if it was meant to be.’ I've always felt this is a mantra we repeat when we need to make sense of a disappointment, a way of trying to rationalise the things that never quite materialised. But when I look back at those disappointments, and realise that for the most part it was for the best, I start to wonder about whether those near misses I took to heart were actually narrow escapes in disguise. The past month has held a sliding door moment. A decision made which I have since realised would probably have led me down a path I wasn’t meant to walk, a path I wouldn’t have wanted to walk, and I imagine the passing of time will confirm that. But I woke this morning feeling strange, imbued with something I haven’t felt for some time. I had to poke it and prod it, explore it before I could recognise it. I found a strange calm in my mind, a sense of hope, as if something had finally settled inside me, a quiet reassurance I couldn’t quite explain but didn’t want to question too deeply. A weight I didn’t realise I was carrying had gently lifted, leaving more than a hint of optimism in its place. Was it the recent near miss? The lighter mornings creeping in? Or was it that the Brits around me, many of them recently weighed down by the winter blues, had begun to thaw? They’re chirping again, like the birds I hear each morning, and it’s hard not to notice. And perhaps, in the end, it is none of those but a combination. A blend of things. A quiet relief at a near miss, the promise of a new season, and the faintest changes stirring both within me and without me. A change in the light, a change in the air, a change in the people around me, and a change in me. The seasons turn whether I am paying attention or not, yet this one arrived with a clarity I could not ignore. As the world around me begins to brighten, with mornings growing lighter and people shaking off their winter heaviness, I feel something in myself brightening too. Not loudly or dramatically, but enough. Enough to notice. Enough to carry. Enough to trust that whatever comes next, I am stepping into it with a softer tread than I had before, with a growing sense that things will work out, and that I will end up where I am supposed to be.

Echobelly, Ocean Colour Scene and Other Assorted Blasts from the Past

Back in the 90s, while living in Japan, I started listening to Echobelly. Their first two albums were wonderful but like so much of the music I listened to in those days, I figured there was minimal opportunity for me to see them live.

A few weeks ago, that dream came true. Echobelly came to Lincoln, and I was not disappointed. They sounded fabulous, looked great, and had a fantastic stage presence. The audience was a little small, and a little quiet, but from where I was standing it appeared everyone was into the music and grooving along in their own way.

Being a small city and with one of the main venues always in financial trouble, Lincoln hasn't really attracted much in the way of music in the past 5 or 6 years - at least, not music that interests me.  Tribute bands have their place, but they're generally not really my thing. They are, however, a cheap and safe option for a cash-strapped venue.  Fortunately the venue was taken over last year by one of the local colleges, and what a change!  It's only May, and I've already seen more acts than I have in each of the past five years. And I have bought tickets for a few more in the next six months or so. Again, many are musicians I was listening to in the 80s and 90s and figured I would never get to see.

I posted recently about wanting to see more live music, and since then I have been, and also exploring the local folk scene. It hasn't disappointed. There truly are some hidden gems here in Lincolnshire.

Next up?  Ocean Colour Scene.  A long time favourite, and although I've seen Oscar and Simon as an acoustic duo, this will be my first time to see the whole band.  And I can't wait.

I see double up ahead 
Where the riverboat swayed beneath the sun 
Is where the river runs red 
Like a King who stalks the wings and shoots a dove 
And frees an eagle instead 
It's more or less the same as the things that you said

More Music.

Much of my music collection has been in storage for quite a few years. Recently I've been able to access my music, and I've been able to commence sorting, organising, and completing the cataloguing I commenced way back in Australia.

It has also been really lovely to rediscover old favourites and listen to albums and tracks I'd forgotten about, or not had easy access to.  (I don't stream, for a number of reasons - and anyway, from what I've seen, some of my favourites simply aren't on those services.)

Last night I listened to an album I initially bought in 1989 or so, and haven't heard for around ten years. I was amazed at how fresh it sounded, and also how I knew the words and music so well.  It was wonderful to listen to. And I'm sure other aural delights await me as I explore my collection.

In a way, this re-access to my music, as well as going to a couple of live shows, has re-energised my love for music. I've bought tickets to a couple of other shows coming to Lincoln, and even explored the Folk Music scene in this county. And I was surprised to see that it's actually quite healthy and active.

I've known of the Folk Club in Lincoln for around a year or so, but their regular sessions clashed with another regular commitment I had.  I no longer have that, and so tonight I'm heading off to, hopefully, meet like minded people with similar tastes in music.

It can be uncomfortable joining a new group of people, but I've already had some online contact with a couple of them, and they seem really friendly and welcoming. I'm not nervous at all, and really looking forward to going.  And, as one would expect from a folk club, they meet in a pub.  Bonus!

In the next few months I have tickets to a few shows, Folk Club and Live Sessions pencilled into my calendar, and an unusual opportunity to explore new music.

Music still stirs my soul and speaks to my heart. And very often inspires my own creativity.

I'll let you know.

Live Music. Again.

It has been a long while since I went to see some live music. I think the last concert I attended was in London, about a year ago. I regularly check to see who is coming to Lincoln, just in case, but for the past couple of years, pickings have been slim.

Partly this is due to the size of Lincoln. We are a small city, with a small population, well off the beaten path. The venues we have in town are also small. The main one was in financial trouble, and was having problems attracting artists. as such, it promoted a lot of comedy nights and the like. The other, probably understanding what sells, seemed to focus on tribute act - something I've never been too fond of.

But there has been a turn around, The main one was taken over, remodelled, and has started attracting performers of note - or at least artists I'm interested in seeing. 

Recently, in a matter of days, I went to see live music at both these venues.  And I loved every second of it.

First up was Something About George, a tribute to George Harrison.  I hesitated for the longest time, but then read some reviews. It wasn't a tribute act, but a band paying tribute. The frontman talked between (and sometimes during) songs, telling George's life story, and the relevance of the songs being played. And it was good fun. Really good fun.

The second was Fairport Convention.  Someone I know told me they'd seen them in the early 70s, and figured none of those originals would be there. Of the five he saw in those days, three were still part of the band. And they were wonderful.  I have seen this lineup before, but Dave Mattacks didn't play with them last year, so it was great to see him back on drums.  And, being the lovely chap he is, he signed a couple of XTC and George Harrison albums for me.  Bonus!

Oh, and a huge shout out to Plumhall.  This wife and husband pairing were the support act, and they were fabulous. I became an instant fan.

And so I am going to go and see more live music. I've been exploring British folk music since I was a teenager, and I am aware there is a healthy live folk music scene here in Lincoln. I have thought about attending some of these events for some time, but they generally clashed with other regular activities I undertook. That has all changed, and so from this month I plan to see more live music.

And that's the way it should be!

Australia Day in the UK.

It's Australia Day. And for many Australians, myself included, that doesn't really mean much.

Growing up, it was a public holiday which meant a day off school. But it wasn't a day we "celebrated" as such. No one wished you a Happy Australia Day, we didn't put flags up, we didn't do anything special or eat a particular meal. It didn't really seem to have much depth at all, apart from some civic fireworks or maybe a local 'Australia Day' branded concert or something.

But like Halloween, which also had no real meaning when I grew up, it's starting to gain traction as an event, to become something more than what it was.

I'm not going to get into any discussion on whether the date should be moved, apart from it absolutely should. I'm not posting this as some kind of national pride thing. I'm writing this because I'm currently sitting in a small English village in the middle of winter and some English friends have wished me a Happy Australia Day.

Sure, I have played it up a little. In our weekly meeting at work on Monday, I was asked what was happening this week. Rather than commence with my deadlines and plans, I told them Tuesday was Burns Night and Wednesday was Australia Day, which provided them with a fantastic opportunity to celebrate me as a colleague. Without a pause, our meeting moderator replied, "We do, Steve, every single day."

But I suppose all the posts on social media have made me think a little about Australia. And my family and friends. And that it's still not easily visitable.

The world is a different place since I last visited Australia more than two years ago. It was just before the pandemic, and if I had gone with my original plan to visit in March of 2020, I wouldn't have been back in around 4 years.

I love Australia, and I miss my family and friends, but in some ways I feel more at home in the UK than I do in Australia. I feel a connection with the land here. And I've felt it every single time I've arrived. I especially feel it when I'm up in Scotland. 

But I would dearly love to visit Australia sooner rather than later.

And All Went Well At The Book Club!

I wrote a while back that I would be attending my first Book Club meeting, and that I hadn't enjoyed the book we'd been set. But I survived it. More than that, I really enjoyed it. And went back for my second meeting a month later.

We met in an old pub in town, perhaps the oldest in Lincoln, as it dates back at least three centuries. I was about the fourth to arrive and sipped a fine ale as fellow members arrives gradually, including acouple of other newbies. Then there were brief introductions and it was on to the book.

As previously promised, I behaved myself and stayed fairly quiet. But I could see the leader glancing in my direction several times, and gently broke the news that I felt the book didn't live up to its promise, its reputation or its awards recognition. I also mentioned serious flaws in the narrative and editing, and that although there was a story there, it was in desperate need of a rewrite and serious editing.

And it was received well. And there was another there who also agreed with me.

The conversation was civil, people chose to differ in opinion with no snarkiness or efforts to "recruit" opposers, and at the end of the evening while most gave scores of 8 or 9 out of 10, a couple of us gave 5s, and that was fine.

Afterwards there was general conversation on a range of subjects, just "getting to know you" type chat, which was easily the most social thing I've done in the past two years, and I came home relaxed and content.

November's meeting was good too, with a broader spread of opinions on the book - I was somewhere in the middle in that I enjoyed parts of it well enough but not enough to follow on and read the sequels.

And then I made the terrible mistake of accidentally double booking for December's meeting, and much to my own dismay, was unable to attend.

But this reminds me. I need to get stuck into January's book. Now, where did I put it?

Steeleye Span. Again!

We went to see Steeleye Span again this week.

I last saw them on their 50th anniversary tour about two and a half years ago. They were touring on the back of a new album, Estd 1969, which I think is one of their strongest recordings in many years. The lineup, too, is perhaps the best since the classic lineup(s) of the late 70s.

The show was good. The band was great, sounded wonderful, were really tight, and rocked out. It was, however, well into the tour, and Maddy's voice was patchy. 

I know Maddy doesn't have the range she once had - that happens to mature voices, but this was more than that. Either she was (or had been) ill, or her voice was tired from the tour.

When tickets were announced for a show in Lincoln, I didn't hesitate. I still wanted to see them. Again. A band which has been around since the late 60s? Who knows how long they can continue.

I was a little disappointed Benji Kirkpatrick didn't appear on stage. And then I noticed the fiddle player wasn't Jessie May Smart but another woman. The rest of the band, however, were the current lineup. And they were good. They were a precision unit. Maddy introduced the fiddle player, Violeta Vicci, but didn't explain whether she was replacing or covering for the fabulous Jessie May Smart. Alas, there was no mention of Benji Kirkpatrick at all, so I have no idea if he was unavailable or had left.

Violeta did an admiral job, on apparently her 6th gig with the band. As a multi-instrumentalist, Benji was sorely missing - especially on tracks like the January Man, where his loping banjo sets the tone and meaning of the song. Liam Genockey and Roger Carey were as solid as ever on drums and bass respectively, while Julian Littman (guitar) seemed to have an even better outing than the last time I saw them, and Andrew Sinclair (other guitar) shone yet again.

But the best part? Maddy's voice was in fine form. Sure, we weren't treated to Gaudete (although I suspect with some arrangement and a drop in key she could handle it), but they either chose songs to suit her range, or she reworked her vocal lines to suit her range.

They opened with Little Sir Hugh, which was especially meaningful as not only is it the very first song I ever heard from Steeleye (and I became an instant fan within seconds), but his remains lie less than a mile from this venue. For those unfamiliar with his tale, I have previously told his (and my) tale.

During the intermission, I grabbed their new album (a re-recording of their 1969 original release) and managed to find Maddy tucked away in the foyer. She graciously signed it for me, and I was able to apologise to her for embarrassing myself the last time I had met her in Melbourne in the early 1980s. I didn't explain, but she laughed and told me not to worry as it was all forgotten.

But I'll save that story for another post. 

And Maddy, should you by any chance ever be reading this, thank you for all the recordings, all the shows I've seen, and for the time you took to sign an album or two for me. It is truly appreciated.

There's An Optimistic Vibe In The Air.

Spring has arrived, later than last year for sure, but it's finally here and making up for lost time. The skies are blue, the flowers are blooming and the grass needs cutting once again.

OK, that last one I'm not so keen on, but at least the grass isn't as tough as the grass back in Australia. Nor does it need cutting on a fortnightly basis.

The change in weather seemed quite sudden, and because of that the longer days also seemed to appear without much warning. One morning I realised I was waking at 5am (or earlier) simply because it was light outside.

For a number of reasons, and I'm sure the arrival of Spring is part of it, I feel really quite optimistic at the moment. I got to work with a spring in my step, a song in my heart, and a bunch of other cliches. Someone even mentioned they'd noticed I was whistling at work last week. I hadn't noticed it myself, although I know I whistle. Fortunately they told me they quite liked hearing it. I have, of course, become quite self-conscious in the office now and have stopped myself a couple of times as I was about to launch into song.

The writing continues, slowly, but this beast is being lashed into shape. I like where it's heading. I hope you will too.

Home Again, Home Again?

I'm confused.

I'm currently in Australia, at the tail end of a two week visit, and in a day or so I'll be heading home. Or am I currently at home, and heading off again?

Since July 2016 I've been working and residing in the UK with Lindsey. That's where you'll find our dogs, our TV, my Beatles' albums and our car. But I grew up in Australia, so for so many years that was my home. Before that, however, I was born in Scotland and emigrated to Australia when I was a tot.

So which is my home?

Both, in different ways. But for now I'm heading home, with a bag full of Tim-Tams to share with Lindsey. If you drop in for a coffee after I get back, you might just score one.

The Weather With You.

The past week has been cool, although milder than it has been. Temperatures have ranged from 6 to 10c and mostly dry. Yes, there have been a few showers, but nothing terrible.

In a couple of days it will be high 20s into the 30s. Not in Lincoln, of course, but in Melbourne, Australia.

Apart from articles about my Australian Football team, and the odd bits of news I pick up through Facebook, I have no idea of what's happening back home. Entertainment, politics, news or sport - none of it. I stopped reading the Australian news and weather a few months after arriving over here. There just didn't seem much point, and I felt it was more important to be aware of what was happening here in the UK.

But I've been tracking the Melbourne weather for the past few weeks as I'm heading home in a few days, time to visit family and friends. It appears I'll be arriving into a 33c day. Guess I won't be needing my winter jacket and scarf.

I was planning to get up to a football match, although I think that's now fallen through. I have made some plans to hang out with my best friend, to have dinner with others, to visit my school, and to catch up with family.

I've also made arrangements to visit Deakin University, where I studied all those years, and to chat with some staff there regarding the differences between the Australian and UK tertiary systems. Aaah, Professional Development - grab it where you can.

When I booked my ticket I wasn't too fussed. Yes, I was looking forward to going, but as the departure date approaches my excitement continue to grows. I really can't wait to see my family and friends.

And Tim Tams. There will be Tim Tams.

Another Christmas in the UK.

I've finished work for the break.

Most of the office went out for a Christmas lunch, which then extended into the evening until I left around 9pm to head home. I must say we had a fantastic time.

I really enjoyed the company of my colleagues. The whole atmosphere was very jovial and we had a lot of laughs. Somewhere in the evening I lost my car keys. It was crowded and someone knocked my work bag off a chair. I didn't realise the keys were gone until I was about to head home. I checked but couldn't find them. Apparently they were handed in five minutes after I left and I managed to retrieve them the next morning.

Hardly the worst thing that's ever happened to me.

Christmas in the UK is still one of my favourite things. People wear Christmas Jumpers - which isn't a thing in Australia. Most of us wear t-shirts at that time of year. But here it gets dark early, the lights are on, and it feels like Christmas is supposed to feel.

It's all very cosy and festive and seems right.

We have family visiting Lincoln for Christmas and Boxing Days, and I can't wait.  Yes, for the family, but mostly because I really enjoy Christmas lunches.

Merry Christmas, everyone. I hope you're not hearing Wham's Last Christmas in the shops too often.

Who's Pushing The Pedals On The Season Cycle?

Soon I'll be dragging out my winter coat and scarf as the days grow short and the evenings close in. But for now we're enjoying lovely days. Blue skies, fluffy white clouds and an array of autumn colours in the village.

Ask people around here about winter, and they'll tell you it's not like it used to be. They used to be long and cold, but the last heavy snowfall that brought Lincoln to a standstill and closed the schools for four days was in 2010.  I've seen pictures of it. Family sent them to me at the time.

Last winter was mild in comparison. We really only had two light snowfalls, and the flakes melted quickly - all traces gone within an hour or so. Not that I desire to be snowed in, but it would be nice to have some real snow around - if only for the photos. Long range forecasts for this year are mixed, and suggest it could either be mild again or we could have a really cold one. They just don't know.

Either way, we've already stocked up on firewood. Last Friday was quite cold, and we used that as an excuse to light our first fire for the season. It was lovely, homey and comforting. I can't tell you how much I enjoyed it. I won't need too much pushing to light another one soon.

I've been here more than a year now. We've been through one complete cycle of seasons, and I've enjoyed them all.

But enough on the weather report. I do have more publishing news to share, but I'll save that for my next post.

Seeking New Opportunities.

Have you heard of the hidden job market?

It is believed as much as 80% of jobs are never advertised. These positions go to people through other means - usually networking, headhunting and referrals.

Of course this can make life difficult for someone like myself who has only been in the UK a short time and doesn't really have a local network. There are ways to grow a network and I am taking those steps. But it can be a long, slow process.

I have decided to take the slightly unusual step of promoting myself as a potential employee. No, I haven't splurged out and bought time on one of the TV stations, instead I've created a web page. Check it out here.

And if you know of anyone who needs a hard-working administrator, please don't hesitate to share the page with them.

So Is This How It Ends?

Finished work at LCHS yesterday. And, for the most part, it's an odd kind of feeling.

Disappointment in not being able to follow students through their entire academic year, but a relief that the end date has been reached. It's certainly been busy over the past few weeks, both at work and at home. Lots of marking and assessment to ensure no extra work is left for my colleagues who remain at the school. And we had a visit from Ofsted.

For those who don't know Ofsted (and until late last year I didn't know much about it), they are the inspectors who visit schools and classrooms to determine their teaching and administration standards. And, certainly within the teaching world, they have achieved a myth like status for being brutal. Teachers rip their own heads off rather than face them, administrators wail at the merest mention of them, and principals become blubbering, thumb-sucking wrecks from their visits.

Yes, it was terrifying, and for someone like me who is rather new to the system, stressful beyond belief. But somehow we survived their visit. All we have to do now is await their report, and they weren't giving any clues away. Anyway, I won't be around when it's delivered. For my colleagues' sake, I truly hope it is favourable.

Last night I had a few drinks with my colleagues. My friends, actually. The English department has been wonderfully supportive, and I know I'll miss you all. And to the others who are moving on from LCHS, I wish you nothing but the greatest successes.

Last In, First Out.

A few days ago I was informed that due to budget concerns, approximately 18 teachers will be finishing up at Easter this year. All teachers made redundant are on short term contracts - basically 'last in, first out', and unfortunately I am one of the 'last in'. This means I have approximately 13 weeks of teaching left.

This decision seems to have taken all staff by surprise. My colleagues, managers and even some of the leadership were genuinely shocked by this. None of the students have been informed yet, and I won't be the first to tell them. I know some of them will be quite upset by this.

You know what they say, "One door closes, another opens."  Yeah, that's not something to which I ascribe. Doors are made to be opened, or sometimes kicked in. I've never been one for automatic doors. I'll certainly be making time to take stock, consider my options, and choose which door I plan to open.

I look forward to the opportunities I may discover along the way.

Life in Lincoln.

It’s almost 5 months since Lindsey and I made the move from Australia to the UK. Recently a few people have asked after us, so I thought I’d write a bit about what we’re up to and how we’re doing. I suspect this might be a bit longer than many of my posts.

(The TL;DR version will be in the last paragraph.)

Lindsey and I have settled in the old part of a village just a few miles out of Lincoln. Our cottage is around 230 years old, and is warm, cosy and feels welcoming. We’re friendly with our neighbours, and even socialise with them. The pub is 100 yards down the road, and although we only drop in every few weeks, the Landlord knows me by name and chats to me. A fantastic fish and chip shop is only a short walk away.

My commute to work is a comfortable 12 minutes. I have to drive through Lincoln itself and past the Cathedral, and on mornings when traffic is heavy I need to add an extra two minutes to my journey. On the way I listen to BBC Lincolnshire – Scott Dalton in the morning, who is friendly and personable. It’s a gentle rural station and mostly plays classic pop, as listeners tend to be older. But the morning show and its discussions is how I learn about local issues, politics and events.

I love the school at which I’m employed. Although the buildings are just over 100 years old, the school has a 900 year history. It’s said to be haunted, and on the internet there are first-hand reports of encounters going back decades. I have spoken to staff who have had experiences and even sightings. As for me, there is one incident which I find difficult to explain, although I’m sure many would simply scoff at it.

My colleagues are fantastic, and I enjoy being with them. The school demographic is quite similar to the school I left in Australia. The issues, the behaviours and discussions are strangely familiar. There are a lot of similarities in the curricula, however the focus has just been different enough to make me work at getting my head around it all.

Lincoln is a wonderful small city. Population is around 100,000, including outlying villages, and as such it’s small enough for me to easily find my way around. Dominated by the 1000 year old Cathedral and Castle, there’s more than enough history to keep any of my History teaching colleagues entertained for ages. Plenty of Roman ruins too. And the fossil of a plesiosaur that was found under a local primary school. Art galleries, museums and gardens. Lots to do here.

Plenty of entertainment venues too, with theatre, cinema, music venues and more. And all close and reasonably priced. Some fine restaurants as well. And I can buy Vegemite in the local supermarket.

I feel at home here. Always have. Lindsey’s family makes me very welcome, as do my neighbours, colleagues and students. As I was born in the UK, I actually feel a connection with the land. The weather doesn’t worry me (Remember, I lived in Japan for 6 years where winters snowed and could get very cold) and I prefer the cooler climes to those hot Australian summers. As my friend Peter would say, I get burnt if I walk past the toaster in the morning. I really do have a pale Scottish complexion.

We moved here with a two-year plan, for a number of reasons. Employment, pace of life, a sense of community, access to Europe, time with Lindsey’s family, some connection with my ancestral past, art, music, culture, history, and so on. On Facebook, you've possibly seen Lindsey and I taking every opportunity to attend events. Everything from rock music to classical, folk to swing. We’ve been to galleries, castles, manor homes, gardens, a 1940s weekend, and a steampunk festival. My employment seems to be working out, we spend time with Lindsey’s family, we’ve connected with our neighbours, started becoming involved in aspects of the village community, and visited Amsterdam during the summer. We have a trip to Venice planned after Christmas.

Many people have asked me which I prefer, Australia or the UK. The truth is neither. They're both wonderfully different. We never left Australia because we didn’t enjoy our lives there. Of course there were aspects that we felt disappointed with, but none were deal-breakers. 

Is life perfect here?

No. No country is perfect. For a start they play this weird sport they call football where they only have 11 players on a team (not 18), the ball is round, and no one takes a speccy. And they all have funny accents.

Has it all been plain sailing?

Yes, for the most part. Any issues we’ve had have been rather minor. I guess the biggest were the self-doubts I experienced a month or so into my new job when I felt overwhelmed by everything new I was learning. But that passed with a week or so.

Of course I miss my family and my friends. So far I’ve yet to make friends here. There are plenty of people with whom I’m friendly, neighbours and colleagues, but there’s no-one yet who will ring me and ask me to come and hang while listening to music and sipping a beer, or shooting pool, or whatever. But I’ve only been here since July. And I’ve only been at my school since September. These things take time.

And remembering that I’ve only been here four months is important. It’s still, what many would call, the honeymoon period. Sure, I no longer hesitate while counting out change. I don’t think the electrical sockets look weird anymore. I automatically say ‘trainers’ instead of ‘runners’ and ‘crisps’ instead of ‘potato chips’. Heck, when I talk about soccer to the kids, I even say ‘football.’ But it’s still early days, no matter how well I’m fitting in and feeling at home. And things might change. I’m well aware of that.

(Here’s the TL;DR part)

But so far so good. Being here feels right. We've found pretty much everything we were looking for. And Lindsey and I are enjoying ourselves here. I feel less stressed.

Even the dogs are loving it here. They seem relaxed, and certainly enjoy all the walks this village has to offer.

Life is good.

Thinkin' Of Lincoln.

This is a year of change.

One of the reasons I've been away from the blog and from writing is my attentions and efforts have been focused elsewhere.  In late June I will be moving, and this is taking a lot of planning, preparation and effort.

I have been granted a two year leave of absence from my school and so Lindsey and I will be moving to the UK - more specifically, a village just outside Lincoln, England.

Lincoln is a beautiful, historic city, with a magnificent cathedral, castle, and two magna-cartas. The city is also famous for Stokes High Bridge café, the Lincoln Steampunk Festival and Steep Hill.

Less well known are my in-laws, although a major part of this decision is to spend more time with them. Of course in return they have to put up with me.

Let the adventure commence!

Little Sir Hugh.

In the late 70s a friend played Commoners Crown to me, an album by Steeleye Span. I was familiar with Bob Dylan and the like, but this was my first introduction to folk music in the traditional sense.

I was a teen and I can clearly remember being blown away when I heard Little Sir Hugh, the album's first track. I spent ages examining the record's cover, a carved crown consisting of thousands of people. On the back were the names of the band's members alongside small carved figures. No further information, no internet to rely on. My brain went into overdrive, imagining these medieval musicians misplaced in time.

I soon became a fan. Buying Steeleye Span albums was no easy task in the pre-computer world. Suburban record stores never stocked them. I had to hunt through catalogues and order them by title alone.

Little Sir Hugh is still my favourite track on that album. It tells the story of a young boy who is playing with his friends who kick their ball over a wall. A lady invites him into her garden to retrieve it, but instead tricks him and murders him in quite gruesome detail. The song is told from Hugh's point of view, as his ghost tells his mother of the murderous events. I knew it was a very old traditional song, but I had not realised where and why it had originated.

My wife is from Lincoln, in England, and so we visit there quite regularly. I've walked up Steep Hill and visited the iconic Lincoln Cathedral many times. I  never realised until my visit in August that these were the very places where the events in Little Sir Hugh took place.

The true story is tragic, an unsolved murder which resulted in false accusations against the local Jewish community. A few years later, this incident led to all Jews being expelled from England. There are still a couple of buildings on Steep Hill (Jew House and Norman House) that existed in that time, and were in the area where the murder occurred. I had seen them before, but this time I visited them with renewed eyes.

And then in Lincoln Cathedral I managed to find the shrine to Little Hugh, a shrine where his body is interred. It was last opened more than a century ago and the remains of a boy were indeed found inside. The lady at the information service in the cathedral was helpful, permitting me to read four pages of notes on the history of Hugh. She asked me why I was interested, and I mentioned the folk song - which she'd never heard of.

All these years I've been walking right past the site of one of my favourite songs. Now with the knowledge of its origins and a bit of research, both the song and my wife's hometown took on a new life.