The Celestial Sea Voyages

The Laird of the household is an ebullient, eternally youthful and generous man. As a young boy he excelled in all sports -- and still does -- especially rugby. He grasps every chance to participate in anything sporty with a single-mindedness that leaves everyone else literally ‘holding the baby’. He is of solid build and medium height; a true Celt with his auburn hair and trim beard, often to be found wearing eccentric, tartan trews and funny hats with an extremely obedient spaniel by his side. He is a much-loved character and tends to take centre stage, needing high accolade from the immediate community for his sense of identity and self-esteem. He possesses a remarkable energy, matched only by a surprising ability to switch off completely. I often tease him about his lack of ‘middle mode.’ I sometimes wonder if this extreme pace indicates a reluctance to face deeper issues. His ability to endlessly talk and prove his point of view gives him a big advantage over his students but can come across as over-bearing and bull-headed amongst his peers, especially those of the female gender. This side of his character is gaining strength as he matures, to the point where even I find it difficult to put across any opinion. This developing trait is giving me some concern for the future. I hope a degree of humility and a softer edge might appear with a move to the other side of the world.

The Laird’s friends play an important role in his life, particularly male friends from his own school days. They almost take the place of family. He will go into a rapid decline if regular, social events are not solidly fixed in the diary, especially shooting and fishing expeditions. To be active with one's friends is a top priority but to be let down by anyone is considered unforgivable disloyalty. He calls for justice, honour and a strong adherence to moral ethic at all times. These qualities lend him his vocational, teaching prowess.

Although traditional in his outlook my husband is broad-minded and manages, (albeit without heartfelt belief), to acclimatize to his wife’s alternative ideas. We both come from military backgrounds where we had temporary homes around the world as we were growing up; hence our own boarding school upbringing. The Laird’s ancestral routes stem from Scottish/Irish heritage and his years living in Scotland, coupled with his Celtic build and auburn colouring, give him ample claim on Scottish lineage. His family’s disowned Irish Castle lends a ring of truth to the jovial title of ‘Laird’, especially as he is the eldest son. A diligent, caring husband and father we are proud to call ourselves his family.

As Mistress of the household I am generally in charge; a role I have perfected over the years. I am of average height and build -- more on the slight than the solid. I have curly brown locks, blue eyes that are my best feature and an eagerness for learning and innovation in all endeavours. As long as the underlying intention is a deepening of spiritual knowledge I am usually first in line, often inciting the crowd to join the adventure. I have an observant eye and keen head for organization and system management, networking and enterprise. Oh yes -- and I possess a vibrant imagination -- mustn’t forget that. Some may think I am too accommodating of others but I won’t say more. There are surprising sides to my character that lie hidden. The ensuing story will reveal all.

Our fourteen-year-old son is a self-contained, slim young man of guarded expression and conversation; that is, in front of his family. We have decided he is the biggest fraud really, leaving the house in the morning with the sourest expression, barely acknowledging any of us, only to be seen seconds later wearing a large grin and chatting endlessly to his friends! Because of his supposedly split personality we sometimes call him ‘Cedric the Scowler’. I can’t remember exactly why -- something to do with a caged cat who often escapes between bouts of snarling through the bars. He is a striking boy, on the tall side with high cheekbones and wide-spaced, hazel eyes; both inherited features from his paternal, Czechoslovakian grandmother. Every now and then he reveals his best trait: a delightful empathy and call for fair-dealing, as well as a quick wit and great sense of humour. As he matures I am pleased to notice inherited traits from my father of a tidy mind and keen eye for detail. Last week I found him tidying the kitchen!

Cedric has recently taken to the sport of mountain boarding: (Snowboarding on wheels over grass). His skateboarding skills work well with this relatively new pastime. One of his school friends is seriously involved in the sport and the two boys head off to a local track as often as possible. When he isn’t boarding he likes spending quiet time at home. He loves the family pets, often bestowing them with heart-warming tenderness. His siblings often wish for the same benevolent attention instead of the constant battering he dishes out. Perhaps he will surprise them one day. Needless to say, aged fourteen, he is less willing to be leaving his school and is putting up a strong, moody fight against the whole procedure. If we had a healthier bank balance we would possibly consider leaving him here, (where his growing literary and artistic talents could flourish), to join us during some of the school holidays only. At this stage however, that is not to be.

Now for our nine-year-old ‘Go Getter’ -- son number two -- a chip off his Daddy’s block. As the years go by this becomes more and more obvious, much to the pleasure of his father and enthusiastic response from everyone he meets. He is a complete delight, from start to finish. He is one of those children to whom everyone warms, from grandparents and teachers to family and peer group. He has no idea how lucky he is; a lack of hidden agenda in his open personality makes him most appealing. His build is stocky, like his father, and he is of average height. An unruly mop of flaxen hair, usually standing at odd angles, crowns his big blue eyes, which are a family trait. He has an adorable speech mannerism, where he pushes his lips forward in his eager delivery. He is a voracious reader and is always hungry for information. He asks endless questions and his near photographic memory means at the age of nine he possesses a large general knowledge. “Did you know the world’s spiders consume the weight of the entire, human population in one day?” “How on earth do you know that?” We ask, surprised enough to stop eating our breakfast cereal, spoons poised in mid-air.

Sitting still is a near impossibility for this amusing child. His physical energy is matched only by that of his father, although a case of mild asthma occasionally slows him down. Random footprints up the walls in strange directions usually mean he has been perfecting some dare-devil trick while gripping the architraves between the doors, and if you want to preserve a piece of furniture, or any good linen, just keep it well away from the busy fellow. He is a terrible fiddler, ever taking things apart or poking things where they shouldn’t go. I remember with a chortle how my sister’s precious cupboard came to ‘stay’ with us for a year; “yes we have the perfect place for it -- we have put it in the Go-Getter’s bedroom -- he needs some extra storage.” There was silence at the other end of the phone until Mizzie was heard to say: “Oh”. Luckily the cupboard survived the year, apart from a dousing of super glue on the mirror, which came away easily enough. Due to our impending move it has gone to reside in a more civilized household.

And last but not least is our six-year-old little Lady, our bundle of feminine joy after two boys. She is rapidly developing a strong character and takes on the whole family with a firm hand. As a bump in my tum she was fondly known as ‘Rinky’ after the wonderfully named, bohemian establishment: ‘The Rinky-Dink Café’ -- a regular haunt at a summer festival in Wiltshire. The name has stayed with her and suits her well, especially with the addition of ‘The Minx’. In many ways she is very like me, although we catch glimpses of the same short temper and moodiness that accompany her bigger brother. As a toddler she was known to throw crockery and slam cupboards if crossed. Watch out everyone! We wonder what the teenage years will bring. Rinky is of medium height and build with long, mousy fair hair that tumbles down her back in fairy ringlets. She has the same blue eyes as her brother; with a slight touch of green. She is as bright as a button, never misses a trick, and shares the family tendency towards wholehearted participation and instigation. She is also very sociable. Her enthusiastic response to any endeavour is heart-warming and I certainly enjoy her companionship. We have discovered she is a keyhole listener as well as possessing that female trait of deduction -- surprising in one so young. She keeps up with her brothers without question and verges on the side of tomboy in her physicality, although her love of pretty dresses and all things feminine places her firmly in the ‘girly camp’.

We are sorry to be taking Rinky away from the blossoming relationship she shares with her little cousin, but we shan’t be gone forever. The apple of her Daddy’s eye she is in danger of being indulged. Terrible tears and furious grumps erupt when she is put in her place. Her sense of responsibility always amuses us: “don’t forget the rubbish like you did last week -- our pocket money is still sitting on your desk Mummy -- I have been thinking about what you said on the telephone this morning.” Of course she is too young to really understand the full impact of our decision to move hemispheres. Her main concern is which toys to take and what the airline might give her to play with during the journey. Her travelling things are already neatly laid out in a corner of her room.

So, that is our family of five. The back-up team consists of my ever-generous and selfless parents: the retired Colonel and his gentle, yet commanding wife -- an expert needle-woman and family cook, my sister who is a published children’s author and her solicitor husband with their little son, my big brother: a banker of global status with his French wife and their four, super-achieving children, and my younger, solicitor brother with his delightful wife and baby. The Laird’s family do not feature as often, although they are almost the same in number but a more scattered group to whom said gentleman is less attached. Having experienced constant negativity in his immediate family he is used to looking beyond his own environment to others, my family having well and truly taken the place of his own. I sometimes wonder whether his lack of enthusiasm and general, dulled spirit when we are alone as a family unit is a result of his early experiences.

Our family dog is going to stay for a while with the school secretary to whom she is much attached. For several years we have worked and bred the smallest breed of shooting dog: the Working Cocker Spaniel. Our present, four-legged friend is the third dog we have owned. She has produced two litters of successful pups -- the latest litter are about to depart. The income generated is helping towards the cost of this giant move, although the added chaos of four rampaging puppies is another ingredient in our ever-mad existence.

And so, our final days in England speed us towards our departure on July 8th. The Laird’s last days at school are mixed with those of his leaving sixth formers -- an exciting cocktail of midnight parties, illicit car escapades around the school grounds, the confiscation of one student’s vehicle as it ventured into the village with a driver a little worse for wear, leaving speeches and high accolade for the departing Housemaster. He has had quite an impact on the establishment over four years. My diligent parents continue in their visits to relieve us of our dwindling, earthly chattels and I begin the preparations for the final day of Kindergarten and the celebration, a little late, of the feast of St. John. This festival should be celebrated on the longest day; i.e. June 21st and is full of blazing hot colour and feasting. I have decided to delay the festival to provide an uplifting closure to our Kindergarten initiative. Harvest bounty and seasonal ripeness underpin the celebration and when the day arrives we are blessed by perfect weather and eager participants.

It’s a hot, hot day and we’re tossing the hay,

Down in the field, just over the way.

We’re throwing it high, beneath the blue sky,

And then we are spreading it out to dry.

A bonfire is central to the festivities and this year we have an open brazier. I am rather pleased by this latest invention: the metal drum of an old washing machine holds the fire perfectly. Tables are spread with an assortment of dishes -- all in hot colours -- and everyone is dressed in reds and oranges, strong pinks and blazing yellows. We sit on rugs beside a pile of harvested grasses, gathered yesterday during our morning walk. After our picnic lunch we make crowns out of the grasses and decorate them with colourful tissue flowers that spill out of a big basket. I am treated to some kind words and the gift of a book of pictures drawn by the children with lovely messages and photographs of everyone. The atmosphere excites the children and wearing our summer crowns we sing around the fire, throwing the treasured piles of gathered petals into the leaping flames.

King Sun he blazes in the sky, ascending ever higher,

He mounts his wide, midsummer throne,

All sparkling with shimmering fire.

As the afternoon winds to a happy conclusion I take the golden sun-streamers and throw them high into the air over the bonfire, calling each child in turn to catch their parting gift. The little sun-kissed orbs delight the captive crowd of Kindergarten members. A new school year will begin in September and although we will be going our separate ways, this permanent treasure of friends and shared experience will forever reside in our hearts.