Photo of the month

At Grandpa's farm; just after the madness set in.

I really like this photo.

It has two of my favourite people.

It captures Australian light really well.

It also captures something of both people. JMB

Where the Wild Things Are.

I'm a city girl.

I appreciate a good pavement. I am fairly comfortable with neighbours, proximity to people. I don't despise a lawn or the odd tree and quite like flowers growing in the garden, but I don't go weak at the knees at the propsect of spending all day outside surrounded by 'nature'. I quite like inside. Nature, I feel, has issues.

So I feel a little out of place here. May through to September was idyllic and really enjoyable. But then September came and the little respite from the heat that Brisbane experiences was over. And out came all the animals.

And in Australia the animals tend to be lethal. They might look cuddly, but any animal that actually manages to survive here is at the very least hardy, if not adopting the view that it's best to kill outright on sight any perceived threat. But not all animals are life threatening.

For example: South-east Queensland is home to approximately 27 snake species, but only 13 are regarded as medically significant.

So speak the wise ones of snakecatchers.com. I hope you feel the relief that I did upon learning that less than half of the snakes in our area are 'medically significant'. 

Similiarly, not all the ticks in our area will actually kill you. Some of them will, of course, but not all. Seed or grass ticks, for example, won't do you fatal damage. They may give you the controversial 'lime disease' depending on who you speak to. And they will leave a scar for months, as they have to our 2yo's back, but they won't kill you. At least one won't. Many? Probably.

Me with my little country boy

We've had six ticks so far, not counting the near fatal tick attack on the dog. And one snake, a 'harmless' carpet snake that the snake catcher wouldn't remove because '... you want it around.' No, really. I don't. It's a snake. 

I think I've morphed. I can no longer claim to be a simple city girl. I own two pairs of tweezers, numerous pressure bandages and a special cream that kills ticks. I insist that the boys wear closed in shoes when they dash around outside. I know that you can kill ticks you suspect might be in your clothes by putting them in the dryer for 20 minutes on 'high'. I have found and killed six ticks, not counting the three I removed from the dog. I have the number for the snake catcher for our area on speed dial on my phone. I do a tick check on our boys every night and I know the places to look.

All this bush lore is burdensome.

All you have to worry about in the city is the people who might kill you. Or take your money or something. JMB

It's a Dog's Life

That's a special present just for Mark, who will enjoy that pun far more than is healthy.

 

Yes, we have a dog.

He's my brother's dog via my nephew, so he has a long and complicated ownership background and even now, I'm not entirely sure whose dog he is exactly. But he lives with us, and barks at things.

He freaks out the resident bush turkey and peacock, but doesn't seem inclined to actually cause them anything other than psychological harm. (I can live with that).  He also barks incessantly at any visitors, especially large males. (I can live with that as well).

He escapes every day and goes who-knows-where but usually finishes up with a nice dip in the dam (I know that because he comes home muddy). This doesn't help his tick problem which is now, by virtue of his proximity to us, our tick problem also. And tick problems are expensive problems to have. (Not so easy to live with that).

He and the boys get on quite well, though he takes a middle-aged approach to their madness and goes off to sit with his bone and quietly contemplate whatever it is that dogs contemplate.

We like him. His name is Ferdie. JMB

Our Place

Our house is awesome.
We can't quite believe we live here.
This is the view looking out the front window...

 across the back...

down the side...

And these fellows come and visit every day...

and this little chap sits proprietarily on the washing line every morning, just to make sure things are as they should be.

We really like this house. JMB

Sudocremed

Our 2yo has good fine motor skills. This is partly because he loves to know how things work and spends ages experimenting with putting things into things and pulling things apart. And partly because he adores trains of any sort and building train tracks requires fine motor skills, and so his get a fairly solid workout because he is committed to building track most days of the week.

One night when he decided to stay up until after 9pm, very quietly in his room (we stupidly thought he was asleep because he was quiet!), he decided to play with the almost full jar of sudocrem. He did it meticulously. He lathered the entire tallboy, carefully going around only the edges of each handle. He then 'coloured in' the front of the tall boy, so that it was all symetrical. And finally he did his hands and his feet. Only his hands and his feet, completely.

Here he is, so tired he's almost drunk, with the incriminating evidence.  And not a whisker of an apology anywhere. JMB

Dig

Both our boys like to dig. Other boys throw snowballs when they are in the snow. Ours dig. Other boys build sand castles when they are at the beach. Ours dig. Digging holes, the bigger the better, is a serious occupation. 'Dig' was one of the first words in both their emerging vocabularies.

Which is why I was very keen for us to have a sandpit.

I would have been pretty happy with just about anything, but what we got was the super-deluxe version, designed and built by M's Dad. It sits happily under a tree and is usually occupied from first thing in the morning to sunset, with interruptions for meals, sleep, preschool and other such things.

I really like the sandpit. JMB

Water, water everywhere...

One of the things our boys are enjoying the most about Australia is the water. It's not just the beaches, though they are very well disposed towards them. It's that it's warm enough to play with water, even in winter.

Here they are deeply engrossed in playing boats in an activity that left them both completely saturated, at the beginning of winter. But it's warm, so it's OK.
2yo is particularly taken with water. In the heavy rain we've been having, I frequently find him either out the front under the broken drain pipe that pours water down from the roof, or under the water tank with a broken pipe that pours water down from the tank. It's like torrential rain just doesn't  cut it. He needs more water; he needs to be completely soaking wet in under a minute. I have also found him more than once, casually bouncing on the trampoline oblivious to the rain.

It does make bath time easy: no reluctance whatever to having a shower!  JMB

Up From the Whirlpool

Whirpool, rip tide... at the very least 'very strong current' describes the last six months as we moved to Australia, Mark finished the draft of his thesis and started his new job, we moved countries, churches and houses and 4yo started kindergarten.

Most of the time, it's been brilliant. We're more relaxed, healthier, feel more useful and even laugh from time to time. We went to the beach. Our house is awesome (but that will get a post of its own) and creates a context for our boys to run, jump, dig and then run some more. We are enjoying the privelege of renewing and strengthening old friendships. We get to see family more and that's been great as well. Our church rocks and we feel like we can contribute.

There are lots of things we miss about England, particularly the people we knew and loved. And some other things as well. But for us, it is much easier to live in Australia, socially and physically. So we're glad to be back.

Most of the time we are moving too fast to see it all. But we when we glimpse it, we are grateful to God for getting us 'there and back again' in one piece and helping us to be grateful for his many blessings.

Currently I'm avoiding no less than five jobs I have to do, some of them I should have done yesterday and one is held over from last week.  So, I might be blogging a bit more these days.

;) JMB

The New Year

...is almost upon us and we've pretty much given up on blogging in 2011. This has been the Year of Sickness for us, with at least one of us being unwell most weeks and with many of our plans undone because of illness time and again.

However, in 2012, we hope to be back in Australia. We're hoping that the addition of sunlight and fresh air to our lives diminishes the frequent illness. We'll see how that goes!

At this stage we are planning to move back around March but this isn't definite.

What is definite is the job Mark has been offered at Queensland Theological College from June, 2012. It's a great opportunity to serve God and we are quite excited about it. We had always expected to return to Sydney to serve at Moore Theological College, so this is a bit sudden and unexpected for us, and we will miss our friends in Sydney and the community at Moore. But Brisbane looks like the way forward.

If you regularly pray for us, you might want to join us in praising God for his continued provision for us and for this opportunity. You might also like to pray for the new principal of QTC (Gary Millar) as he and his family move across the globe, and for us as we undertake a similar move. There are lots of details to be ironed out and many decisions to be made. Pray we'll honour the Lord Jesus by being kind, wise and capable over the next few months. Oh, and that Mark will finish his thesis (which is coming along very well).

Here we all are...

We wish you a memorable Christmas and happy New Year. (We're not sure if that's 'you' singular or plural... can't be too many readers left! ;)

JMB

Birthday snow

One of the major things that happened on our weekend was celebrating J's third birthday. He isn't actually three until next month, but his birthday is really too close to Christmas for him to really enjoy it, so being his parents, and slightly omnipotent in these matters, we moved it to a more suitable date.

He had a great day. There was snow, balloons, the birthday boy badge, presents and cake. The presents he opened one at a time and played with each one before he moved on. This was strange boy behaviour that we hadn't seen before.

The cake was constructed with his assistance (mostly he helped check that it all tasted good). He found it in a recipe book (all the cool two year olds read recipe books after all), and specifically requested it. And he blew out the candle with great enthusiasm. (You can see how healthy his tonsils are).

We said thank you to God for giving this boy three years of life, and pray for many more years. Most of all we pray that God will grant him eternal life through the Lord Jesus. JMB

Marvellous News!

We are in! Finally, after three years, Mark is officially in the DPhil programme. Oh, he's written a substantial amount of the thesis and done lots of thinking around the topic. But we were just missing that fine detail that meant he could submit the thesis as a DPhil thesis and get a DPhil at the end of the whole performance.

So, the much prayed for, sought after paper has arrived, and we are relieved and grateful. For those of you who kindly pray for us from time to time, please join with us in thanking our generous God for providing again. JMB

Serious Apples

I like apples. Which is another reason I quite like England. In England, they grow serious apples. Not just the easy-to-eat kind we get in Australia, but apples with attitude. They bite back.

These are 'Howsgate Wonders', which we got at one of the many apple festivals about the place this year. I am happy to report that these are fabulous apples. And the name reminded me of Hogwarts, which is cool as well.

(Very tired this week; this is the best I've got!) JMB

View From My Window

So, we don't really update this. And I was thinking about this on the weekend and thinking that it was a shame and I missed writing these posts. I don't have time to write them, but I don't have time for anything and won't for several years.

So, I thought I'd post anyway.

Nothing too interesting or dramatic, and if you, dear reader, decide it isn't really up to scratch, that's OK. I don't really have time to deal with that, but I'm sure Samaritans or LifeLine would be glad to help you work through that struggle.

So, our boys have been sick all of October. We've done high temperatures, chest infections, vomiting, diarrhea, wheezing, coughing, steroids, antibiotics, many trips to doctors, many sleepless nights. Hurray for last week, where we had two well boys on Tuesday and things just got better from there. And hurray for patient boys who coped really well with being sick.

And it's Autumn, which always surprises me with its wealth of colours and crisp, cold air. It starts so gently and crescendoes with freezing rain, frosts and gold, red, brown whipping about in the chill wind.

I like autumn. JMB

The New Boy

Some of you who may read this may not have received an email announcing the birth of our son, despite being in email contact with us in the past. We apologise for that. We're beginning to realise that we need to migrate our email addresses from one computer to the next. How we do this is beyond us. But at least we know exactly what to feel guilty about, which has got to help. Somehow.

So, without further ado, let us announce the birth of Samuel Charles Baddeley on 3rd May at 12.16pm, weighing in at 3.49kg which includes a respectable head of hair. The birth was reasonably straight forward and quick (albeit intense).

J is very pleased with the 'cheeky baby', also known as 'San-u-el', 'my own bwover' and 'my baby'. He tries to help the baby play with his favourite toys and hugs him frequently, and enjoys 'checking' on the baby, announcing with gravity that the baby is asleep and making shushing noises. Few babies have been welcomed as enthusiastically by their siblings as little Samuel.

Things are going as well as can be expected under the circumstances. We get somewhere in the vicinity of 'enough' sleep every few days and are muddling through in that haphazard, quasi-competent way we Baddeley's have of making it from point A to point B, often with a couple of unintended detours. This has included Mark passing a kidney stone on the weekend, something we think it would be good to avoid in future.

In the fog of sleep deprivation, we are enormously thankful for many things. Samuel is a gorgeous little boy, and he has come to us safe and sound, and is now growing and thriving; Jennie was kept safe through the delivery process. Mark has been painfree since the weekend, which is a Very Good Thing and something we pray continues. We've found and sorted a house for when we move at the end of June, which is something we are grateful to not have to think about at the moment.

So, as God watches the little sparrows, he continues to effortlessly provide for us and we are grateful. JMB

So why is April 23rd so special?

No reason.

Well, there are probably heaps of reasons. But there's no reason why we should choose today to actually post something on this poor, forsaken blog. Except that life has slowed down slightly for 15 minutes and we thought we should update those long-suffering souls who check in from time to time.

Thanks, by the way.

What have we been up to?

We've survived a really intense six months. Mark has passed an important exam and is now in the process of applying to the DPhil programme. Jennie is busy with an energetic two year old and a slightly less energetic unborn baby, which we're due to meet in about three weeks. J. is busy playing complicated imaginative games which both baffle and intrigue us, as well as continuing to make friends with anyone he meets. And we all had a marvellous holiday about three weeks ago, which was genuinely relaxing and refreshing for all of us.

That's about where we're up to.

The next few months will bring an enormous amount of change. Obviously, the birth of our baby will change our lives fairly radically. We also have to move in late June and have probably got a place on the other side of Oxford. We're looking forward to this in many ways because while it won't give us more space, it does come with a backyard and a lovely kitchen.

Baddeley's, Christmas, 2009

If you pray for us, we'd love you to pray that our baby will be born in good health and in good time, and both Jennie and the baby will be kept safe throughout the process. Pray also that we would navigate all this change well and in ways which honour God, and that we'll understand how this affects our little boy and be wise in the ways we help him. Please also pray that this house will be settled quickly or that we would find another one swiftly. And please thank God with us for the extraordinary gifts he's given us - of another precious child, of great time together and of his kindness towards us and preservation of us through a really tricky eighteen months. And thank you for your prayers. We appreciate them.

Thanks for those who keep in contact with us, even as we struggle to return the favour (though we have been doing better lately!) We love to hear from you and pray for you more than you might suspect. JMB&MDB

Training

Not far from us we are privileged to enjoy a miniature railway. This is no two-bit model railway with dodgy tracks and a rickety engine. This is the real thing. That is, real models based on real engines using real coal and running on real tracks with real signals. It is one of the most extraordinary and disturbing things we've seen.

Our boy doesn't think it is at all disturbing and is utterly mesmerised by it. I've tried to take him often during the summer and he's started to really relax and enjoy it. He looks hard at the train and says, 'T, t, t' with great vigor (meaning Thomas of Tank Engine fame). And when told we are going to visit the trains he dances about saying, 'Toot, toot'. It's safe to say that he has only the utmost appreciation for this service.

It is a very serious affair. It has real tickets and a ticket master, wearing a special hat clips your ticket before you ride

The engine driver carefully drives around the track, stopping or slowing at the appropriate signal and blowing his whistle the requisite number of times as instructed by the sign.

Some of the volunteers are older, probably doing this as a hobby in their retirement. But some are not old, and appear just as enthusiastic. In fact, everyone involved in this venture is not so much enthusiastic as earnest. And I think that is what is slightly disturbing for us.

This is a terrific thing to visit. Miniature trains, based off real engines with nicknames, being cared for and cajoled into giving their all for the Cutteslowe Park Miniature Railway.
We often frequent this park, which runs intermittently throughout the summer. And really appreciate the huge amount of work and expertise that goes into continuing to make this happen. But the attention to detail is slightly disconcerting. We were there once when a moment of tension happened, with an elderly engineer protested that the 'spare carriage' had been used. The conversation went like this:

(Outraged) The spare carriage has been taken out

(Long-suffering) Yes, they needed it.

But it isn't here any longer.

Yes, they've taken it out.

But now there is no spare carriage.

That's alright. They needed it and they took it.

It's not alright. There's no spare carriage.

But they had to use it.

It's policy to always have a spare carriage.

This final statement seemed to us to invite the response: "Yes it's policy to always have a spare carriage in case one is needed and not to always have a spare carriage lying around just for the sake of always having a spare carriage." But it was an indication of just how intense the engineers are that there was no attempt to discuss the purpose of the rule. It was clear that the only thing that mattered was the details. Which, it has to be noted, is a fantastic mindset to have when building a model engine exactly to scale. The earnestness in this enterprise isn't just in the driving of the trains. It pervades all, and this means great engines, with real smoke and puff.

But as much as I admire the tenacious attention to detail and sheer skill of this - and I do think it is amazing - I am always tempted to whisper into the driver's ear, 'It's just a train'. But I don't think he'd understand and there is probably a policy to put troublemakers like me off at the next stop. So, I continue to be amazed and incredulous. JMB

Learning to be Patriotic

J is 18 months old.

It's probably time, we thought.

So, we decided to teach J about patriotism. We got him a flag and took him to the Proms.

Oops. Maybe we taught him the wrong kind of patriotism. The proms (after all) is not a very Australian event, but you do see a lot of patriotic people. But we discovered, patriotism in England is expressed very differently to what we're familiar with in Australia.

There is flag waving in both countries. It's just that we can't quite see a mob of Australians waving their flags to... Elgar. But to the English, Elgar inspires flag waving. Even where there is a real spitfire 'dancing' to Elgar, which was quite absorbing and thrilling to watch, flags are held aloft and waved.

Great Britain no longer insists on a single flag. It was quite confusing for us Aussies there at the flag booth. There was the St George flag, the Welsh Flag, the St Andrews Cross as well as the Union Jack. Anyone would think the Empire had collapsed (but I think any rousing rendition of 'Rule Brittania' will demonstrate that this is clearly a myth.)

Pig products are the national dish. We may have commented on this already. We are still coming to terms with it. Our fellow Terry Pratchet fans may assume, like we used to, that 'Piginabun' sold by Cut-Me-Own-Throat-Dibbler is a parody. Not so much. It's more like factual reporting. The pig products are sold unsullied by any accompaniment on a bun. It is 'pig in a bun'. And it may or may not kill you, depending on your consitution.

National music is classical. Good, well-played classical. This was a marvellous discovery. It's not that we don't appreciate country music. Well, actually it is that. Flag waving works better to Elgar than 'I Went Outback On My Horse Called Mildew and I Lost My Girl and I'm Sad, Sad, Sad'. Sure, country music has narrative, but classical music doesn't always have words. And frankly, that can sometimes be a real benefit. Especially when it's chosen and played well.

The war isn't really over. The war with France that is. Insulting anyone else is a hate crime. Insulting the French and reminding them of their loss at Waterloo again and again is a national past time. Give a slightly tipsy guy dressed in a 19th Century soldier's uniform a microphone and you'll hear the French insulted. And the crowd encouraged to boo the French. When they say 'don't mention the war', they don't mean the one in the nineteenth century. It's all about Waterloo. (It seems such a big deal I expect it is actually Cromwell's fault somehow).

The British know how to be in a crowd well. Lots of horses to see, no stand of any kind. So we do what the British do best. We form an orderly queue of sorts. Those of us at the back can't see a thing. But there is no complaining or jostling or nastiness. We all just stand there in an orderly fashion. It is much less stressful than other crowds we've experienced. It's a good national skill to have.

Artillery is a serious business. Still. The guys who operated the artillery to blast at various times in theh programme actually built the artillery. At some point, someone will possibly break it to them that this artillery is not so useful these days. (Which I guess isn't true if it is used each year for these events all around the country). We've moved onto more sophisticated ways of killing people. It is a curious thing, though. One wonders whether in 200 years, they'll have the Proms with battle tanks, machine guns and missiles. That will really put a bang into the 1812 Overture.

And the weather. As the inevitable rain came down (not that we mind it particularly), we were engaged in the care of a small boy and it wasn't until we turned around again that we saw the crowd had become a sea of umbrellas. It was a startling transformation and we should have taken a photo. Instead here is one of number of more serious umbrellas; the truly serious of course were housed in a gazebo (and almost always attired in formal wear). Gazebos could be hired for a cool $A250. We just brought along our dinky little umbrella. But then, we're from the colonies.

We won't try and further J's patriotism any further at this stage. What with the Ashes... he's probably waving the right flag anyway. JMB

English Spring

Thank you to all who kept in contact with us in various ways over the past few months. It's been a weird kind of year for us and as you may have noticed, we haven't blogged for a while. Maybe we'll be able to get back into the swing of things now...

This blog is fast becoming a comment on British weather. But we cannot let Spring get away without comment. It is one of the beautiful aspects of British life. It comes on the heels of winter, with all its sparse greyness and cold. Mostly we quite enjoy this: cold in Britain is a different experience compared with cold in Australia. Houses are heated much more effectively here, so it is easier to warm up if we do get really cold. And coats are serious, so wandering about outside is mostly not too bad.

But the colours mute and even seem to disappear into a dreary palate of brown, leafless trees against a grey, gloomy sky. And so Spring is something of a surprise. The colours come back. Spring soothes the greyness into the background with sudden pockets of pastels, while the green of summer gradually arrives. These little moments of colour startle the eye, so used to the grey brown of winter, and they give way to great splashes of colour, longer days, sunshine with warmth in it and leaves growing and unfurling in beautiful shades of green. Worthy of special mention are the daffodils. Vivids yellows dancing in the breeze are slightly breathtaking. They don't last very long, but they tease the mind with possibilities of summer.

One sunny day, Jonathan and I went for a walk intent on taking photos of Springtime. Here we ran into a slight problem. Jonathan's problem, of course, lay in my unwillingness to entrust him with the camera. It is an ongoing problem he has and one day will result in some kind of camera coup.

My problem, however, was slightly less complex. There were many photos I could have taken of everything from magnolias in full bloom to little bluebells (or whatever they are called), peeping up to the sun. But these pictures all involved a private residence of some kind. I don't know what the etiquette of this is and didn't want to find out. But churches, I decided, are fair game. After all, in this country the Church of England is still established and so church buildings are kind of public property. I, being the public, albeit the foreign public, thought it would be quite acceptable to take photos of churches for private use. I probably put a lot more thought into this than was strictly necessary. I was no doubt dazzled by so many gorgeous flowers and the sudden appearance of sunshine.

Here are my offerings. I hope you enjoy them, and although it ceased being Spring some time ago, it is never the wrong time of the year to see photos of a gentle English Spring. JMB