Day three: 2 May: Poole

Being still on New Zealand time I had it in mind to get up early and take Jane a cup of tea in bed, but she was up with the flatulent sparrows too, so we went for an early morning stroll with Fudge, the not so young hound. Jane and I don’t spend enough time together for our liking so we were very pleased with ourselves and for keeping our secret from Amy. We talked about the usual sorts of things sisters-in-law talk about when they get together, such as why the pines in Bournemouth make people feel tired, and addressed the health, relationships and education matters of various members of the family. Our conversations must remain secret, so if you want to know more you will have to wait for our memoirs.

Jamie took me to Bournemouth to collect my car, which disappointingly was not red, even though I had especially noted this as a request on my online booking. I also slightly resented that they thought I might have an accident as the car had VW written on it at the front, which I think stands for Very Worried. I therefore took out full insurance just to be sure. I shook for the first few minutes of driving, mostly because I wanted a pee, but also, because I fully expected the English roads to behave differently to ours, and be sort of soft and billowy to drive on, or perhaps turn into large crevasses and swallow me up. Fortunately they didn’t do either of those things, and before long I had learned to trust them, and drove more or less as I do when at home. I had been warned that Britain is a surveillance society, and watched out for the speed cameras. The English are so careful they even have lights at some of their roundabouts, and they are frankly roundabout crazy. I hate roundabouts, because when I go into them I can never work out how it is that I can turn left without hitting the person in the left lane. Someone explained it to me once, drawing it on paper for me, but I wasn't convinced. I know it doesn't work, because I often get tooted at when I turn left, and sometimes have to go around twice as I am too scared to get off. I had loaded up Francoise (my GPS) with Western Europe maps, and Jamie had marked his house as my UK home in case I got lost, so it was just a matter of following the voice instructions (called Jane) and maps to my UK home. I have no idea where I was or how I got there but it worked. I parked Very Worried neatly in their drive alongside the BMWs and she tried to look comfortable there and sort of succeeded, being the same colour. Grey.

Frankie and Jamie's place is a kind of Waterloo station, with all kinds of friends and relatives coming around all the time, so I finally met Jane’s and Jamie’s mother, Jill. I felt comfortable with my initials, as they are the same as theirs. I even gave Jane (Poulston) my hotmail name a few years ago. Jill was lovely – I do wish I had met her when she was younger, as she seems like someone who enjoys a party. It was also wonderful to meet Amy's cousins Mike (who is very funny) and Charlie (who looks just like Edwin), and I knew I would be sorry to leave them the next day.

Later in the day, when everyone had gone home, Jane packed up some stuff for Russ, so I stuck a wee note in amongst it to say hello. He sure does have a tea problem – she sent him about four enormous boxes of PG Tips. Perhaps there isn’t any tea at France and/or he’s tired of their wine. It must be hard working on the hard all day, which is where their boat is.

Frankie showed me her garden – I was pleased to see they had some flax in it. I saw a red fox in the garden, from inside the house, and a squirrel (which was not in the house). Frankie says squirrels are just rats with fluffy tails, but as I like rats that didn’t put me off. They are very cute and I think if Annie could keep a squirrel she probably would, although perhaps Falcor wouldn't like that.

We had had a good day with lots of people for lunch and all kinds of stuff going on, but Jamie wasn’t satisfied with that – we also had to go and meet his mistress at the yacht club, and have a drink there. We went outside and huddled pathetically in the red cape mum gave me a couple of weeks ago, but stayed long enough for me to see that their boat had all the usual boatie attachments such as a mast and sails and stuff. I was very relieved about that, and now I worry less about their safety.

The photo is of us having breakfast/lunch/dinner/coffee. Note Jane at the kitchen sink polishing a boat propeller. She has some very odd habits.

Next instalment:Finding Poulston Farm

Day two: 1 May: Poole - waking Amy

This is a picture of Amy, my brother's daughter, and my favourite blonde niece. As you can see she looks a lot like me, except for the hair colour. Her mother invited me to stay with her brother Jamie, and his wife Frankie. We really like people called James in our family. It's my father's third name (after Edwin and Alfred), so my daughters Annie and Rosie both have partners called James. You would think that Jane's parents might have more imagination than to call one of their kids James as well, but they did. And his mother is called Jill. No imagination, as I said. But I digress.

Jane suggested I catch the bus from Heathrow to Bournemouth. Now if you have done your homework and read last year's blog, you would have noticed that I went to Bournemouth by mistake then, and knowing Jamie lives in Poole (Annie says it is pronounced Pu-ill) I wasn't going to be conned into going there by mistake again, so I checked, and sure enough - if you want to visit someone in Poole you have to go to Bournemouth. England is a funny place.

The bus to Bournemouth had a dunny (called WC) at the back. I spent most of the journey wanting to have a pee and wondering if I pulled the chain at an intersection and rushed out quickly, I would see my pee as we drove away. I was too scared to try, and anyway, I had my bag on my knee in case someone stole it. My bag, not my knee, silly.

Jane collected me much to my relief, as I had now traversed the world without error, being passed from husband to sister-in-law without a hitch. I shared a brief moment of pride with my alter ego as I got off the bus. Jane laughed at my large red suitcase but I explained that one needs a lot of shoes in different shades of red for an academic conference. When we got to Jamie and Frankie's, I went upstairs and woke Amy from her afternoon nap (poor lass had jetlag) but so as not to confuse her, I told her I was her Aunty Yoga. My sister Yoga is heaps older than I am and looks quite different as she has grey hair and round glasses. Amy is smart and knew it was me but couldn't quite get a grip on why I was there. She lives in Vancouver and I live in NZ so I guess it was a bit odd that we should meet in Surrey. She is my absolutely favourite blonde niece, as I said (if you had paid attention I wouldn't have needed to tell you twice).

I was pleased to have my Francoise me GPS with me, all loaded up with Western Europe maps, but the interior of their house wasn't on it, which was shame, as it was quite large and I needed a navigation system to find my way around. They had a lot of visitors as well, and it took me several hours to work out exactly which ones were my hosts and which were their children's friends etc. Even the dog had a guest around for dinner, though I think he just got canned food.

Last time I was supposed to visit them, Jamie killed the fatted lentil for me, but as I had stuffed up my itinerary (http://poulston.blogspot.com/2009/05/12-may-stroud-to-bournemouth.html

he had to put it back in the freezer for this year. Actually it was very good, and didn't taste a bit like my mother's ice-cream, which usually spends a year in the freezer before we eat it. He cooked a wonderful Indian meal, and I scoffed it happily, having been without a decent meal since somewhere over Croatia. I managed to stay up until 9.30 by watching slides on tv and sleeping on every fourth one, then waking in time to answer a question and then surreptitiously slipping into sleep again. I was very happy.

Next edition: Poole - learning to drive in England