Burns House and Madras School

Yesterday was full of several small, much-needed successes. The plumber banged on the door of Kinbrae House early in the morning to tell me he was …well, I couldn’t understand what he said but assumed it meant he was going to work on the heat in Burns House. At 10, David and John and I left Emma and Leah at home and drove to John’s school to meet with the depute head teacher at the Madras College on Kilrymont Road. John and Emma will both attend Madras College, but as the school has 1,200 students spread over grades S1 to S6, they are split into two buildings about a 20 minute walk from each other. John’s school doesn’t look like much on the outside, but it’s not bad on the inside and the depute head teacher seems to be a great guy. He said that he would pair John up with a buddy on the first day to help him find his way around. I can tell they are accustomed to having kids come and go here, and they were able to “get John sorted” very quickly. On the way out, John balked at the idea of starting school the very next day, but we convinced him that it’s better to start on a Friday when everyone’s in a great mood than wait until next Monday morning.

I phoned the Fife Council after our meeting to discuss a long-term parking pass for the car park near our house. Burns House is on the Lade Braes, which is a long, lovely walking path that meanders throughout the town. In 2011, I used it as a running path, and fell in love with all of the beautifully Scottish homes alongside, with stone walls and little wrought iron gates leading to secret gardens full of heather and daffodils in the spring. I was thrilled to find one to let for this visit, though I did note that I wasn’t able to get a good look at it on Google Maps since it’s not on a road. The description on the letting agent’s side said on-street parking was nearby, but now that we are here we realize that is unlikely as the on-street parking is the only free parking in town and fills up with folks who travel in to work in St. Andrews. If we were to ever get a parking spot there, we wouldn’t be able to move our car for fear of losing it. The Fife Council guy on the other end of the phone was wonderfully helpful, and informed me that he could get me a year-long pass for the car park there because we were living on the Lade Braes. He did have some difficulty getting my email address straight, and after a few tries he read it back to me correctly, then added “funny ‘un, ‘at!”

After visiting John’s school we stopped at Burns House to see how the plumber was getting on, and were happy to see that he was gone and the house was warming up. We went back to Kinbrae, stuffed all of our stuff back into our suitcases, and dragged them down Argyle Street to the new house. Burns House is actually quite small, and after all of the suitcases were piled into the kitchen, I realized that it was going to be a tight squeeze. There’s very little storage space, and as we unpacked we easily started to fill the small dressers and cubbies that must be considered closets. As we unpacked I tried to clean away the thin film of gunky residue that was clinging to the kitchen surfaces without thinking about the neat and tidy and residue-free kitchen back home in New York. I also rearranged some of the cooking pans and dishes, as the owner had put the plates and glasses in a floor-level cabinet that was accessible only with a removeable and ill-fitting key. There’s no way that situation was going to work with a toddler around, so some rearranging was in order.

We stopped mid-move to make a 2:30 appointment at Emma’s Madras College building. Her school is gorgeous from the outside, and when we walked through the front stone arch (there’s no front door) and into a courtyard that looked like a Harry Potter set, we were all impressed. Her depute headteacher was very kind and welcomed Emma to the school as had John’s. He was a bit of a mumbler, and must have said the phrase “a wee tour” about 43 times, but he also picked up on Emma’s apprehension at starting a new school and was very reassuring. He called a girl named Alana down to his office to meet Emma, and told her that Alana would be her buddy the next day, and help her to find her way. The “wee tour” showed that the rest of the school building wasn’t quite as nice, and as he led us into various outbuildings that were progressively more shabby, he started to apologize for the state of the place. It was surprisingly run-down, though we were expecting this, as a quick google search for Madras College will bring up news articles about the “sad state” of the school, and the “deplorable conditions” faced by Madras students every day. I could tell as we walked along that Emma was becoming quite thankful that this was a temporary move, and that she would be safely re-enrolled in the brightly-lit and soundly-built Hamilton Central again in the fall.

After Emma’s appointment, I braved the rental car for the first time and took Emma to the Morrison’s grocery store down the road. We did a proper shopping trip since we now had a house, and managed to pull together enough staples for a few meals. We were in a bit of a hurry because John was scheduled to start rugby training that evening and I wanted to give myself plenty of time to find the place. We took our groceries home, and heated a quick dinner of bangers and mash and mushy peas (vegetarian bangers for Emma), then got back in the car with John and drove to the Madras Rugby Club. I remembered well how to get there, but the road to the club was closed in the end, which caused me to panic a bit and head the wrong direction. I thought I could access it from a road that goes along the beach, but when that didn’t work out, I got flustered, turned around, and just forgot to drive on the left. I was on the right for a good long while, actually, and then came upon a car in my lane who flashed his lights at me enough to remind me that I was on the wrong side. That never happened to me on our last visit, so my confidence in driving was a bit shaken.

I did manage to find an alternate way to get into the rugby club, and walked John in. There were a number of boys in there already, and so I introduced John to the rugby coach with whom I had been corresponding by email. He was pleased to hear that John had brought along a “gumshield” and even more pleased to hear that John plays American football and ice hockey. “He can take a hit, then?” I didn’t know if I should affirm that or not, so let it slide. He took John over to his teammates and introduced him. “This is John, then, he’s just come from America.” One of the boys asked from what state, and looked impressed when John said New York. We have learned quickly that it’s not terribly impressive to be an American here, but if you do add that you live in New York (and leave out the Upstate part, which they don’t understand) you are somehow redeemed. I just tell the kids that if someone asks specifically about something in the city, to say we live outside Manhattan and leave it at that. Anyway, the coach continued his introduction and added, “John plays American football and ice hockey” and another of the boys patted the seat next to him. “Come sit next to me, lad,” he said. “I like ye already!” I didn’t stay for the practice, but when I returned John had already made a friend called Scott, and had exchanged phone numbers. He said he felt much more confident at the idea of starting school tomorrow, having met at least one friend.