Arriving in Moorea...

It was quite funny when Ashlynn said that she was sure we’d never heard of where she would be doing fieldwork for three months to collect data for her master’s thesis: Moorea, an island in French Polynesia. Ironically, Jimmy and I had gone there for our honeymoon for one week in July 1993. Sadly, the Club Med where we had stayed was shut down in 2000 and is now just ruins.

Ashlynn spent her first few weeks on the island staying in a house with a family of marine biologists. It wasn’t close to the lab, but it was very close to the beach, which she loved. 

We’re really proud of how hard she worked to secure grants to fund her trip and her research. One such funding source was from the Women Divers Hall of Fame Awards 2024, which awarded her the Graduate Marine Conservation Scholarship.
 

The Girls Head Out...

On the morning of February 12, I  went with Veronica to Crossrail Place Roof Garden to help her shoot a video as part of an application for a Sustainable Futures course she was hoping to attend. 

She didn’t end up using the video, but was accepted into course to be held in Utrecht.

On our way back from Shadwell DLR Station, Veronica brought me to some cool murals I’d never seen in a park I walk through all the time.

She and Brett left that afternoon for Exeter.

Meanwhile, Ashlynn and Ciaran moved into the guestroom and it quickly looked like a hurricane had hit. Of course, it was challenging to pack for a trip to the tropics while leaving during winter.  

On February 13, Ciaran accompanied Ashlynn to Heathrow where she was catching a flight to Tahiti (via LA), where she would be spending the next three months studying tiny sea snails.  
 

Celebrating a Hash Legend...

Little did we know that A.S. Gispert, the founder of the Hash House Harriers known as G, was born in Brockley, an area we had been to many times since it borders Camilla and Tristram’s neighborhood. As part of an annual hash in early February, we went past where his house would have been when he was born in 1903.

We couldn’t resist taking a selfie since without G, we would have never met.

The organizer of this Memorial Hash was Mr. X who treated us all to a shot of whisky in G’s honor.

At the bottom of the family’s grave is a stone for G, who was killed in Asia during World War II.

We enjoyed an impromptu beer stop at Brockley Brewery Taproom.

 

Not Your Average Sunday...

On February 11, we enjoyed going to the Prospect of Whitby for a Sunday roast.

Joining us was Gerlof, who Jimmy worked with in the Dutch Ministiry of Defense and who was now living in Brussels. After we had nearly finished our meals, Ashlynn and Ciaran finally arrived from Glasgow, so we stuck around so they could eat. 

The skies were dramatic. After everyone was done eating, we headed back to our flat so Ashlynn and Ciaran could drop off their luggage. 

There was still about two hours before Gerlof had to leave to catch his Eurostar back to Brussels, so we decided to take a long walk as a group. Ironically, as we entered the lift, we did the math to check if we could all fit, but apparently the weight limit was inaccurate (this photo was taken two days later, but could have been taken over six months later as it still hasn’t been updated). According to our calculations, we had around 90 kilos (200 pounds) to spare.

We hit the G button for Ground Floor and the elevator acted like normal until we were nearly down when it came to a screeching halt. As you can see, it wasn’t a big space, especially for seven people to be stuck together for TWO HOURS! As soon as it stopped, we pushed the alarm button, which called our Concierge. He said he’d call the lift service folks and that we shouldn’t force the doors. Apparently the engineer had a tough time crossing the city because of the Chinese New Year’s Parade, but that sounded suspicious since that event doesn’t shut down the whole city. 

We tried our best to keep a positive attitude. I joked that Brett should propose to Veronica, but that actually he couldn’t because there was no space for him to kneel. And Jimmy suggested that we sing Taylor Swift songs to keep Veronica happy. Yes, we’re smiling in these photos, but it wasn’t all laughs. 

Our stress levels increased as we neared two hours stuck. We told the Concierge it was time to call the fire department, who ironically arrived at the same time as the engineer. We were thrilled when the door finally opened! We had to hop out as we ended up between the 1st and 2nd floors. Luckily we were all still laughing and weren’t traumatized. Sadly, someone on the board of the building mistook our attempts at staying calm with dancing the whole time thus causing the breakdown in the first place, which was entirely untrue. What a great way to meet our neighbors! The lift then was broken down for the next two days, making our neighbors love us even more.    

 

Our First Guests...

Lucky for me, Jimmy isn’t a told you so kind of guy. I thought we should get rid of Ashlynn’s bed and mattress because I didn’t think we’d have space in London, but I was wrong. Just 10 days after moving into our new flat, we had the guestroom ready for our first guests: Veronica and Brett, or I should say Dr. Brett. Brett and Veronica had been living together in Exeter since September, but he had just finished and defended his PhD. His next step was to head to Hamburg for a mini-postdoc before moving to Paris. We were happy that we got to see him before he moved off the island.

Jimmy was thrilled that he got to finally try his new toy: an electric pizza oven. 

The pizza was excellent! 

The following night we went to the London Coliseum to see the English National Opera perform The Handmaid’s Tale. The seats were horribly uncomfortable and the singing helped confirm that I really don’t like opera. However, I thought the show was incredible! The way that the horrific conditions that the women were living under and what would have been graphic violence in a book or movie was depicted on stage was truly remarkable. I think Margaret Atwood would have been proud. 

Earlier that day, Brett bought a used Brompton foldable bike for his future life in Paris where he’ll be doing a postdoc for two years.

 

Low Tide...

After having our first Sunday roast at the Prospect of Whitby in early February, Jimmy noticed that the tide was low and that a beach appeared in front of the pub. He thought we should investigate if it was possible to walk along the beach to our building. Turns out it wasn’t, but we soon learned that there was another access further down the street in the opposite direction. We were warned to watch out for quicksand.  

Luckily the staircase down wasn’t too slippery and we were able to avoid getting sucked into any muck. It was cool seeing the back of our building from up close...

…although it was still difficult to see our patio, which is on a 5th floor addition added in the 1990s. 

The following weekend, we bought a lovely print of our building from a local artist. 

Moving Day!

It was an early start on January 31 as our moving truck arrived at 8:15am from The Hague via the ferry with two Dutch movers who were met at our building by a local mover. 

By some miracle the movers were able to get everything into our building’s tiny elevator...

…except for our two wicker couches which they had to carry up the stairs. Our bedrooms are on the same level as the lift, but our living space is up a set of stairs within our flat, which luckily were wide enough for the couches. 

In under five hours, they had the truck completely emptied...

…and our flat overflowing with boxes.

Since we had to pack and move ourselves into storage while Jimmy was still just a temporary employee, the movers weren’t responsible for any unpacking or furniture construction. We were relieved that it wasn’t too expensive to hire the movers to assemble our dining room table, beds and  armoires, which was definitely worth it as they cranked through the pieces very efficiently. 

By 3:30pm, the movers were done and we would be unpacking enough so that we could spend our first night in our own flat. Cooking, however, would be too ambitious, so we had dinner at The Captain Kidd, a pub with amazing views but mediocre food. 

After 217 nights, we were thrilled to finally got to sleep in our own bed again. I recruited Veronica to make this infographic for me detailing how much we had been bouncing around.