First Day of church and school...

Yesterday, we ventured out to attend a church service recommended by the previous director of the Colgate St. Andrews group. The service was at Holy Trinity Parish Church, in the middle of town. The building itself was built around 1144 (and you can tell by the state of the bathrooms, in which—and I'm not kidding here— you pull a chain to flush the toilet.) We skipped the traditional service and went instead to a later service, geared towards students (both in its nondenominational focus, and its noon start time...). It was very nice, and we met a few families that seemed very welcoming. And I was quite proud of myself when I didn't do a double-take as one of the fathers walked in the door in a kilt, sporrin, and ghillie brogues. Emma and John went to the children’s service, taught by the pastor of the church, and Emma was thrilled that the pastor’s son was the naughtiest kid in the class. (“He kept putting his feet up on the back of the pew and saying ‘I’m boooored!” she said). There were several Americans there, and it was nice to be able to understand someone for a change, though most people at the university don’t have much of an accent (even those who are Ska-ish…though they do call the university ‘sent-AHN-druus’ rather than my “Say-nt-ANN-droows”).

After church, we hung around town for some lunch, but the pubs were full of football fans...and not the right kind of football either. So, in addition to being reminded about all the great American football playoff games that we were going to miss, we had nowhere to eat! We checked out a chippy shop (and noticed that one of the “mains” on the menu was— again, not kidding here—“mushy peas.”) but ended up at a Pizza Express, which is apparently a pretty common British chain, and not as terrible as the name implies. The kids split a marguerite pizza, and David and I ordered one topped with artichokes, rocket (British for arugula, I think), pancetta and Roquefort cheese. Pretty good…

In the afternoon, we took the kids to the ruins of the St. Andrews Castle, but the wind blowing in off the North Sea was pretty wicked, so I wimped out and waited in the car. The above photo is, then, completely courtesy of David’s bravery (though his coat was thicker than mine, so maybe he’s not that brave!). Though it was sunny and about 50 degrees, the wind made it pretty miserable, so we all wimped out after about 20 minutes, went home, and watched about two hours of “Come Dine With Me.” For those unfamiliar with this show, I demand that you go to your telly immediately and look for it on BBC America. Aside from Ricky Gervais, it’s one of the best things to come from British TV in…well, quite some time! We have actually initiated our own “Come Dine With Me” contest in our house, and I prepared my meal last night (roast British chicken with parsnips, carrots and sweet potatoes, and rice pudding with sultanas for dessert.) Emma’s turn comes on Monday…

This morning, the kids started school. I woke them up at 7, giving all of us plenty of time to figure out how to tie those ties. We got them dressed, cooked up some porridge, which they both refused to eat, and counted out three pound thirty for their “two-course school dinner.” Once they were dressed (and looking exceptionally fantastic, I might add…) we headed off to the bus stop, with bus passes in hand (there’s no free ride to school in Europe…the passes for a semester for both kids will set us back almost $200!). We got there a bit early and the stop was chock-full of high schoolers, all dressed in uniform but still “expressing their personality” with various piercings and that crazy hair-parted-in-the-back-across-the-ears-and-combed-forward-look. A bit intimidating! Their bus came after a minute (a double-decker of course) and they all squished on, forming one big mass of crested blazers, Doc Martens, and windswept hair, and leaving the three of us standing alone at the curb. At this point, John looked up at me and said, “Mom, can’t we just be drived in to school?” I can’t blame him, but I wasn’t backing down—I desperately wanted to have faith in the Scottish public transportation system (plus, those bus passes were definitely non-refundable!) and said no, we’ll just wait a moment.

And, sure enough, after another moment, a second bus came along. This one was also a mass of blazers and windswept hair, but the kids were wearing Skechers instead of Doc Martens, and they were all much, much smaller. So I took a big breath and stepped on the bus, pulling Emma and John in with me. I was just about to ask if he was going to Greyfriars when the back row of girls all shouted, “Emma! Emma! Come sit with us! Emma!” I was so relieved that I waved to them, then turned back to the bus driver and said, “Great, thanks, these kids are going to their first day of school at Greyfriars and we have just arrived from the States so they have never…” but stopped when I realized that he had no idea what I was saying. So, I just backed off the bus and let Emma lead John to an empty seat towards her new friends. The bus pulled away, just as I realized that I hadn’t given Emma a cell phone or told her to get off on the Bogward Gardens bus stop after school, or even written her address in her backpack somewhere. Oops…