We thought we’d send our Christmas letter early this year just to make sure you received one in time. The days and weeks are flying by and it will be December 25th before you know it. In the 1950’s & 60’s the days/weeks/years lasted twice as long. Now they are gone in a flash. What shall we blame, the EU, global warming or the ravages of old age?

The last, no doubt. Well, before we became too old, Georgina and I thought we’d do some “VSO” (Voluntary Service Overseas). It’s either that or sinking into premature retirement, flopping into an armchair, watching day-time TV and dribbling down your front. Well, come to think of it…….. No, we’ve decided to go to Namibia for two years. You know it, that desert country comprising one big sand dune to the north left of South Africa. Britain is getting too crowded. We’re giving our space up to give you a bit more room and we’re going to the world’s second most sparsely country after Mongolia.

The capital of Namibia is Windhoek (pronounced Windhoek). We shall be in Rundu on the northern border with Angola. The country is free from malaria apart from one area which happens to be on the northern border with Angola. VSO finds it difficult to place 2 volunteers together, so the usual thing is for one person to be placed and their accompanying partner to find something when they get there. Georgina will be “Co-ordinator for Inclusive Education” dealing mainly with sensory impairments. Accommodation is provided but we shall be sharing a house with other volunteers. I suppose taking up the bagpipes might be a good idea at this time.

We are letting out house in Theydon Bois so are trying to use this as a good excuse for clearing out thirty-six years of accumulated clutter. If all goes well we will moving out at the end of August.

Georgina says,

VSO is an international development charity that uses the skills of professional people to tackle poverty in 40 of the world’s poorest countries. It is currently supporting 1,700 volunteers. I am trying to raise money for VSO by doing a sponsored head shave. It would be great if you could sponsor me by sending a donation or looking at www.justgiving.com/georginahayes. Hoping to keep in touch with you all by email (georgina_hayes@hotmail.com) or you can follow our progress at www.hayestacks.co.uk or on Facebook.

Please donate now.
Oh, and by the way, Happy Christmas.

Love from Georgina and Nigel. xx

http://www.elfyourself.com/?id=9553446510

“Look at the deer in that field,” she says.

I visually scour the field. Nothing, apart from a large area of green, presumably grass.

“Over there!” I follow the direction of her finger. Still nothing.

It turns out to be not one deer but a whole herd.

“Munich is that way,” she says as we hurtle past the junction. I look at her hands to see if there is an indication whether she means left or right. I suggest she has “L” and “R” tattooed on the appropriate hands. She ignores me.

“I didn’t see a sign,” I protest.

“Why does that not surprise me, even though it was the size of a double-decker bus?” She can be very hurtful at times.

“Turn around and go back!” Her tone is unnecessarily imperious.

By now we are at least 3 miles past the turning.

“We’ll take the next right and link up.” I hate going back. It seems such a waste of time (and an
admission of a mistake).

“How will you know the way?”

“Just trust my sense of direction,” I assure her.

She makes no attempt to stifle an ironic and, I may say, a rather cruel snigger. It only serves to harden my resolve.

Two hours later, a city looms up ahead of us. “See, I said I’d get us to Munich,” I announce triumphantly.

“Then why does the sign say “Frankfurt”?”

“I didn’t see a sign,” I protest.

“Well, at least we can buy some sausages.”

Georgina has the gift of sarcasm. If she read the telephone directory she could make it sound sarcastic. It’s an endearing trait.

Our problem (the navigation one), is not made any easier by the fact that Georgina She can have the soundest and most refreshing sleep since Van Winkle hit the sack, but, once in a car, she has nodded off before it’s left the drive. It’s on a par with Pavlov’s dog...cannot keep awake in a car.

Five hundred miles later she will wake up.

“Where are we?”

“Just passed Nouvion on the Brussels road”, I reply confidently, though I have a sneaking suspicion that we are hurtling towards Paris.

She picks up the map. She and maps just don’t get on. They sulk, they hide things from each other, they do not communicate.

“Find where we are? “ I ask in all innocence.

She ignores me.

I must say, though, that Georgina’s skills are improving. Navigation is no longer a threat to our marriage. Driving to unfamiliar destinations is now a positive pleasure.

Back in the summer, Georgina and I were trailing my brother-in-law David’s car as he took us to see my sister Myra in Bordeaux. About 10 miles out we hit congestion. We sit and watch snails overtaking us. Suddenly, David shoots down a side street. Left, right, right, across the junction, left, around the roundabout.. A trail of breadcrumbs would not have taken us back home. We are awestruck at the extent of David’s local knowledge.

“It wasn’t me,” David later confessed. “It was Jane”.

David has a new friend? No. You’ve guessed it we are talking satnavs. Jane is one of the names of his satnavs voices. Ours are “Emily”, “Daniel” and an American voice that sounds remarkably like Drew. These little remarkable boxes are the greatest invention since the wheel, when man ventured beyond his village into the unknown thereby making the satnav invaluable. They are a little short of miraculous. “Emily” knows exactly where we are, even the name of the road. She can plan a route from home to Timbucktoo in a matter of seconds. It would take me a day and we’d still end up in Warsaw. She knows how far we are from the next junction and where the fuel, parking, shops etc are. She knows the instant I take the wrong turn and finds a solution without shouting at me. I suggest that the satnav will save many marriages and decrease much blood pressure.

I was a skeptic. Now I am a firm believer. After all, you wouldn’t go into a strange, dark house without a flash-light?

More photos in the Gallery.

I have never been a self-proclaiming genius (I had to ask Drew how to spell genius!) I may become a nurse but I certainly do not have the brains to become a docter, and there’ll never come a day when I sit down with a Maths textbook and do sums for fun. However I am pleased to shout out to the world that I got a B in my latest Maths class!!! I hated Maths at school and scraped by with a C at GCSE, but this class really meant alot to me. If I had failed, it would have been a big blow to my already sensitive and fragile spirit at becoming a nurse. I failed the entrance exam the first time, so I have picked my pride and heart off the floor once already, if I had to do it again…well I can’t say for sure that I could do it again. So praise the Lord for giving me the strength and motivation for getting through this Maths class.

Dad are you proud of me?

Love Em x p.s – If not champagne then I want a big case of Ferrero Rocher!!

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