Hello.

Wow, a lot has evolved since I last wrote.  Most importantly, both John
and Julia have run afoul of the law here.  John has received a speeding
ticket, given via a speed camera that managed to track him down even in
a leased rental car registered with Sun. 

But Julia's crime, I hear you asking, what could she have done?  Well
she used sidewalk chalk on our driveway and at the base of our front
stairs.  Yes, apparently this is a serious enough transgression to get
two of our neighbors into the management office, to warrant a call from
the manager to asking me to clean it promptly, and a reply call from me
during which the manager and I had a 30-minute heated debate (he called
me "irate," I called him the "high priest of the [neighborhood]
covenent.").  When I demanded to know which parts of the so-called
covenant we had violated, he read one to me about defacement and another
about keeping up the appearance of "a high class residential estate." 
Well, family, I know it will come as no shock to you that we do not
qualify as high class, but I had fooled myself into believing that I
could disguise myself well enough to be accepted into a pricey
community.  You can take the boy out of the country, but you can't take
the country out of the boy.  "Do I also need to start driving a Jaguar
in order to appear 'high class'?" I wanted to know, but he took the
question at face value (the idiot) and said they wouldn't go that far. 
I asked him whether he had come to look at Julia's art work--a welcome
mat with flowers and smiley faces (ha!), he said no, he was only acting
on my neighbors' complaint.   When I protested that I did not find
sidewalk chalk "low class" but rather a "charming artistic expression"
by my children, he told me that that was merely my opinion. That was
when I described the covenant as the Bible with different
interpretations and wondered who really had the authority to come up
with the definitive interpretation.  He said, "I guess that would be
me."  Hence, the high priest comment.  

Oddly enough, John and I were not given the "high class" clause in our
lease agreement, so I promptly called the real estate company to let
them know that all the Americans (there are approx. 75% American tenants
here, and our rent of $5000 monthly is the lowest) would really need to
be informed of the high class expectations from here on out.  The more I
spoke with my manager, the more I learned about how restrictive this
covenant is.  I was informed that the British don't understand why we
Americans let our children play in the front, that their children play
in the back (you should see my back: it's about as big as an American
backyard deck, 17' wide).  We are also supposedly not allowed to bounce
balls in our driveway (not sure whether this is not high class,
though).  And they consider the way we let our children ride bicycles in
the streets to be ridiculously unsafe (never mind that there are no
sidewalks, but there are speed bumps and the neighborhood is gated).  My
neighbors and I had already given in on the issues of no children in the
poolside jacuzzi, no jumping, splashing, or shouting in the pool, no
food and drink near the pool (don't know what the tables and chairs are
for), no unattended children in the basketball court, no children on the
tennis court, and no noisy play on the green. You can imagine that for
me finding that there were even more hidden rules was the last straw.  I
have informed the manager that I cannot promise not to use sidewalk
chalk again (after of course I asked him whether he had any means for
formal punishment if I disobeyed the covenant).  

All this brings back my rebellious nature from Catholic school days,
when I challenged the nuns because they wouldn't let me wear a split
skirt (it was too close to pants for their taste) or a blue pantsuit (if
you were allowed to wear blue you might wear blue jeans).  I just don't
do well with irrational authority, so this whole incident has really put
a damper on my attitude about living here.  Friends in other
neighborhoods tell me that their neighbors have also told them their
children should not be riding bikes in the street.  For once I am seeing
just what a liberal society ours is (particularly in California), and
I'm feeling quite a culture clash with this more restrictive
environment.  I'm trying my best not to over-generalize, but I admit
that it's hard for me not to.  I can tolerate everything but
intolerance!  

I'm not certain what will happen next, or whether I'll limit myself to
grousing on the green with the other American moms.  We are talking
about whether we should write a petition or meet with the manager or
simply let all the relocation agents know about our dissatisfaction. 
John, techie that he is, wants to create a tell-all website for our
development!  The whole issue will probably die a quiet death, with
winter and early sunset coming on and the kids in school all day.

Well, and I WAS going to write to you about how refreshing it was to
live in a place where we felt our children were safe enough to bike
around and gain a little independence.  We were thrilled that they could
have at least a piece of the type of childhood we all had, slumming with
the neighborhood gang, coming in at sunset.  Julia and her buddies were
making a fort in some of the landscape bushes, but they were shooed out
by the management.  (Another brush with the law.)  Now they are working
on a neighborhood show and hoping the management will let them put it on
in the Great Hall, which is the fancy meeting room in the main house
(FAT CHANCE).  Every afternoon they both beg to go out and play with
their friends.  I usually accompany Henry to the green where he plays
soccer with a mob of kids.  He is always the youngest and whiniest.  He
doesn't follow the rules, and he cries when he can't get the ball, so
you can imagine he's very popular.  Fortunately, the kids usually seem
desperate enough to let him play, although they argue over which team
gets him (a position I regularly occupied as a child).  We have given up
on finding a compatible four-year-old for him in the neighborhood; his
best buddy is Nicholas, who is in the second grade with Julia but who
likes to play with little kids.  Henry still misses his friends from
home, but there are several potential friends in his new class.

Everyone is asking about what our school is like.  Most of you know that
it's an American school, so the curriculum is not much different from
home.  Julia's main comment is, "It's too easy." (just like a true
American public school).  She seems to be in a very nice group of kids.
Her class has only 15 students in it, so it's a great size.  The
returning parents and students all make a very nice effort to make the
newcomers feel welcome.  Her teacher does not believe in pushing the
kids on to the next academic level (i.e. grade 3 curriculum) but rather
helping them perfect and broaden their use of second grade skills.  I
think Julia doesn't understand this concept since she was so used to
always encountering new material in first grade.  The school offers a
lot of enrichment activities that we didn't have before: art, music,
dance/drama/movement, French, and more frequent p.e. than before.  She
still loves reading, regularly polishing off a 150 page book in two
nights.  At the same time, she is totally into a tomboy image, relishing
the fact that she is often the only girl playing with the boys (she is
the only girl of 36 kids on the soccer field in Saturday intramurals.) 
Although she still misses her California friends, she has now come to
the point where she realizes she will someday soon miss her friends from
England.  Tough situation for a child.

Henry's school experience has been a bit up and down.  He frequently
cries in the morning that he hates it, but this could be fatigue.  Later
he complains that he doesn't get to stay all day like most of the other
10 children in his class.  He complains about the lack of Lego and
computer in his class.  Of course, he too has had his encounters with
the authorities, having taken off with two buddies across the campus to
the big kid's playground when the teacher wasn't looking (and it is a
very large campus).  The teacher tells me he has been a bit aggressive
lately, but she seems to be very understanding about it and ascribes it
mostly to the difficulty of transitioning to a new class and country. 
She seems to have a good sense of what his strengths and weaknesses are,
so I have hope that she will be able to bring out the best in him. 
Unfortunately, I was greatly disappointed in the classroom activities
available to him.  Duplo, blocks, a few puzzles and babyfied stringing
beads, and art projects he is indifferent to.  I thought part of his
unhappiness might stem from a lack of stimulation.  The teacher
acknowledged that her classroom supplies were meager, but reassured me
that she had a lot more stuck in customs and more on order (the whole
classroom is new this year).  Presumably the situation will be improved
by the end of the month at the latest.  She wants Henry to stay all day
(currently I pick him up at 12:30) by October.  I am a little reluctant
to give him up now (can you believe it?), but the teacher claims that
the morning is the most structured part of the day, whereas afternoons
will be a looser play time.  I would hate for him to miss out on the
free play and get the impression that his school is only about
structured activity.  I want him to get used to the organization that is
bound to happen in kindergarden without being totally frustrated with
it.  

If Henry starts going all day, I will see both kids off each morning
(the bus comes to our doorstep) at 7:50, and they return by bus at 3:30.
What will I do?!  I will no longer have any excuse for being such a
messy housekeeper.  Of course I plan to explore the environs and finally
maybe meet some actual English people other than my stuffy tattletale
neighbors (Lord Stanley and Lady So-and-So---I can only remember her
dog's name!) and the Nazi property manager.  It's been quite easy to
socialize with the other American moms, and there are so many in my
neighborhood (at least 15 I know by name) that it's not hard to find
someone who shares my interests.  So I guess you could say that we are
all settling into our new life fairly well.

Time for me to give Henry a bit of attention.  He's set up a spy station
near the window, possibly hoping to catch the neighbors in some covenent
infraction.

Thanks for all the responses to my email!
Love to you all.

Maureen