Our Trip to England (or, 'a regular Swiss family Robinson')

We're here! Sorry for the delay in updating but internet access is not as handy as we'd like yet, with home access not likely until the end of September or early October.

The trip here was about as arduous as we had feared, yet somehow smoother than we had hoped. I drove our van to the airport in Calgary loaded down with luggage while Larissa and the kids came in separately with her Mom, and just as the small mountain of duct-tape and Rubbermaids was created, a small army of family and friends showed up to help haul it into the terminal.

After a joyful and tearful goodbye, we made our way onto the plane. No, that sounds too easy. It was more like, 'We dragged the kids onto the plane through a pressing crowd of impatient, childless business travelers, leaving carry-on debris strewn in the aisle.' After only two or three trips back and forth to the front of the plane, we finally settled in with all our debris.

The plane trip was a breeze after all that: 9 hours of travel time through the night, 26 trips to the toilet, 45 minutes of sleep, 2 surprisingly good meals and 2 suprisingly bad movies, 7,000 kilometres, all at 35,000 feet. The experience of flying across the Atlantic to England? Priceless.

We flew down the west coast of Great Britain, so the first glimpse of our new home was of the lochs and glens of Scotland. We flew right over Birmingham, then Oxford, and finally landed at Heathrow airport. The flight attendant who came and took Matthew to the front of the plane for us deserves an extra Christmas turkey from Air Canada (we wondered if we should let a complete stranger take our youngest child without us, but then decided at that point we didn't care).

Heathrow is not exactly the best first introduction to the UK, as it is simply a busy, dirty, smelly, teeming mass of people, baggage, and jet fumes. But we were all happy to have landed, and we quickly got our luggage and made our way to our awaiting mini-bus. No, that's not quite right either. We did have a quick trip through customs, thanks to an attendant who noticed our plight and sent us through the short lane, and the customs agent who quickly stamped our visas with some comment about 'a regular Swiss family Robinson, eh?' But after that things got tricky. We realised we had to navigate from the baggage area to the reception area with three top-heavy carts of duct-tape and Rubbermaids, a stroller laden with carry-ons and Matthew (now recovered from the blessed flight attendant), a few pull-suitcases, and two weary children. A porter soon helped, and once we made our way to the reception area the friend who was to pick us up helped as well. After a quick and merry procession (okay, a lengthy and teary procession) we made our way to our awaiting mini-bus.

The drive to Birmingham was a pleasure--no need to correct that statement. We did have a little trouble finding our place, but even that was manageable with a little sleep and very enjoyable company along the way. And thus our story ends at our new home, Asbury Overseas House, with the adventures just beginning.

Many thanks are due to many who helped get us here: Mom for driving in to the airport and staying with us there, Jan for driving our van back to Three Hills, all the Pahls and Sennekers and Hooges who provided the entourage at the Calgary airport, the unnamed flight attendant and customs officials and porter who more than did their jobs at Heathrow, and our new friend Brian for setting aside an entire day to drive us to Birmingham (and enduring a broken-down mini-bus once we got here--that's another story!). Each one of you was a Godsend, just when we needed you.