Monday 6th September
We slowly tore ourselves away from Hunsdon Mead, like a plaster being reluctantly peeled from a child’s knee, and began the leisurely cruise to Harlow. Having no interest in narrowboat cruising Big Sister asked to watch The Yellow Submarine again; although she is a bit scared of the Blue Meanies and puts her fingers in her ears whenever they appear. Baby Sister is in her pushchair on the back deck drenched in sunshine and The Doctor is steering the boat. I’m doing the dishes as Hunsdon Lock wall recedes down past the kitchen window. We rise up past green lock-slime clinging to concrete, as the shiny happy Beatles sing “we all live in a yellow submarine” to us.
This cruise is now a familiar journey to me as I have been walking to Harlow this way on my writing days. Eastwick Mead on the port side is as vast as Hunsdon Mead and the A414 noisily rushes past us on our starboard side. I make fried eggy bread for the baby’s lunch while we moor up on Parndon Mill lock bollards; The Doctor and Big Sister head off with a windlass to set the lock. As she sings ‘Hey Bulldog’ under her breath to herself I proudly note that The Doctor’s homeschooling is going well: home-School of Rock that is. Big Sister has abandoned the Beatles film, but I am listening to ‘All You Need is Love’ on the stereo as the baby eats her eggy bread in the baby seat on the kitchen floor. Day trippers on a wide beam help us through Parndon Lock, because they are waiting to come down through it. This is standard boating etiquette, to help others in a lock that you are waiting for, so long as you have enough crew to spare. After the lock I am still doing the dishes but the captain calls me on deck to check if the TV arial is going to make it under the next bridge. All bridges on The Stort are low. The pushchair and header tank can make it – so long as there’s not been too much rainfall lately. The arial needs to be turned further onto its side as we approach. I’m standing barefoot on the gunwale, hanging on to the roof rail.
At Burnt Mill lock, Burnt Mill lane and Burnt Mill Industrial estate I imagine the mill workers back in the days before the fire; completely oblivious to the fact that some day, this whole area would be named after one devastating fire on a day they had not yet seen. There is no mill here now.
As a pedestrian I was very unkind to Harlow, but as a boater it is great. Moorhen Marina provides toilet pump-out, a water point, rubbish disposal, recycling, shower, toilets and laundry facilities. However, the washing machine can only be operated by a digital card, available to purchase from Stanstead Abbotts marina. This is five or six hours boating away, or an indirect train journey, changing at Broxbourne. However, The Moorhen waterside pub is extremely child friendly and does two meals for eight pounds. We moor up and take the whole family out for dinner.
Showing posts with label home schooling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label home schooling. Show all posts
Friday, 19 November 2010
Friday, 17 September 2010
Home Schooling
Tuesday July 20-th ish (losing track of dates)
I took Big Sister out for a walk this afternoon, while The Doctor stayed home with the baby. It was beautifully warm but slightly cloudy, so not sun-burn weather. We intrepidly left the towpath, fighting through nettles and grasses to a nature trail that lead to the lake, Glen Faba. The walk there is all woodland and wild flowers, and the arrival is all long grass and calm rippling water. We can see two swans gliding about beside a miniature beach, so, barefooted, me and my two year old daughter roamed along grassy pathways to get there. The grass is warm under our bare feet, the ‘beach’ stones are prickly on our soles. Our sandals are strewn by the water’s edge and the water is cold to our ankles. I tell my daughter that the swans don’t mind if we share their lake; she is loving the experience, splashing up water with her hands and getting her hair wet. On the way home she runs towards me, barefoot through grass like a slow motion, perfect and tranquil childhood scene.
We’ve now met the boat family round the bend. They are actually moored at the next bend in the river, and have two children on board. We were invited around for juice and to play. We talked a lot about home schooling, because that is what they are doing. It makes it easier for them to move around, and the child chooses himself what he likes to learn.
“He’s into nature, he watches a lot of David Attenborough DVD’s and he goes out on his bike a lot. But he’s not so into Maths. Or English.”
I took Big Sister out for a walk this afternoon, while The Doctor stayed home with the baby. It was beautifully warm but slightly cloudy, so not sun-burn weather. We intrepidly left the towpath, fighting through nettles and grasses to a nature trail that lead to the lake, Glen Faba. The walk there is all woodland and wild flowers, and the arrival is all long grass and calm rippling water. We can see two swans gliding about beside a miniature beach, so, barefooted, me and my two year old daughter roamed along grassy pathways to get there. The grass is warm under our bare feet, the ‘beach’ stones are prickly on our soles. Our sandals are strewn by the water’s edge and the water is cold to our ankles. I tell my daughter that the swans don’t mind if we share their lake; she is loving the experience, splashing up water with her hands and getting her hair wet. On the way home she runs towards me, barefoot through grass like a slow motion, perfect and tranquil childhood scene.
We’ve now met the boat family round the bend. They are actually moored at the next bend in the river, and have two children on board. We were invited around for juice and to play. We talked a lot about home schooling, because that is what they are doing. It makes it easier for them to move around, and the child chooses himself what he likes to learn.
“He’s into nature, he watches a lot of David Attenborough DVD’s and he goes out on his bike a lot. But he’s not so into Maths. Or English.”
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