11 Sep 2025

Our younger son uttered his first “maths” and so the assimilation begins.  There are two Arthurs in his class.

Mattress was delivered by an uncle (generic uncle, not an actual uncle) who managed to slip off his loafers even while maneuvering the very large heavy box up our stairs.  He was the store owner and had insisted on delivering it personally because it was late after something something the container ship, even doubling back when we were out the first time he tried.  When he left, I asked if it was a situation when it would be acceptable to tip.  He said he did not accept them and started to to leave, but then he stuck his head back in the door.  

“Can I ask where you’re from?” 

“Oh! Yeah, from Massachusetts? The Northeast?” 

But he had not asked out of idle curiosity.  “Can I ask how much you were going to give me?” I held out £10, expecting for him to warn that such a pittance would insult someone. He reared back in alarm.  “DON’T DO THAT.  You’re tipping someone, you give them £5! Don’t be handing those out!”.  He was being very kind but was genuinely freaked out.  I thought of the statue of San Rocco we’d seen at a feast in Malden before we left, draped in purple ribbons with the 20 dollar bills of the devoted pinned to it.  He left in a hurry before being forced to witness any more folly!

10 Sep 2025

Day one: Sunday roast for lunch. B is sick but T made a same day urgent care appointment that was quick and efficient and I’m sure absolutely every interaction we have with the NHS will be similarly positive. Off to a great start! 

Day two: The AirBnB is above a boarded up pharmacy.  We have to walk through a trash-strewen alley to access the house and go through a very tall wooden fence to the yard.  When T left to pick the kids up from school, the combination on the padlock to the gate must have gotten reset when he was scrambling the numbers to lock it and it wouldn’t open. He and the kids went to the supermarket, assuming it was just a matter of an hour or so before someone came to cut the lock.  Messages to the host were as shouts into the void.  He came back and passed me some fruit, jam, and a bar of chocolate through a loose board in the fence (the yogurt didn’t fit).  I gave him a blanket, a frying pan, plates, and clothes so they could spend the night in our actual house down the street, which luckily had at least one partially assembled bunk bed.  How many bundles had been passed through that fence under the cover of night since the house was built? It felt like the building’s will to steer us toward this moment from the start.  

Day three: I was freed by a very apologetic young woman who tried a hacksaw and then a crowbar, both with cardboard sleeves still attached.

Day four: Now we’re in the real house which has five different locks, all of which require a key to lock them from the inside, so I’m sure there are more lock pratfalls to come. 

9.8.25

ARRIVAL after a miserable connection in Paris where the security line was 7 rows deep and I got swabbed for explosive residue (it was still better than the time in 2010 when I was connecting at CDG on a work trip and was pulled off the jetway so security could watch me turn on all my electronics to check that they weren’t bombs).  I huffed and puffed to my gate and found out that it was delayed.  A relief because otherwise I would have missed it, but did the man I asked what was happening really need to say “You ran for nothing!”?  We'll be in an AirBnB for a few days until the Ikea delivery and the internet is turned on. The realtor texted to say "The neighbors are very friendly, they will definitely approach you soon," which I am choosing to interpret as fun and not at all sinister!