Listening to The Archers in Costa Rica

On Monday, as I sat looking over the wine-dark Pacific Ocean, and listening to the day's episode of the BBC Radio 4 soap opera, The Archers, I thought 'what a brave new world that hath such technology in it.' I really can't do without my Archers fix.

When I first moved to England, I could not understand the national obsessions with Radio 4 and with gardening. Gradually friends (including one who later became my husband) lured me in, explaining the joys of Radio 4 generally, and in particular of knowing and caring about the Archer family and its neighbours in the fictional village of Ambridge, the ongoing saga of the 'everyday lives of country folk'. It takes some concentration to catch on. How well I remember the first time I listened to one of the thirteen-minute episodes and was able to say with confidence, 'Ah, that's Eddie Grundy.' We have in our home in Toronto a tea towel depicting the Archer family tree; it is tacked to our kitchen door. It puzzles many a guest.

(I did also learned to appreciate the planting of bulbs and the pruning of roses, but that's another show--GQT, to be precise.)

Thanks to internet radio, The Archers were able to follow us to Canada. Luckily! And now they are with us in Costa Rica. My wonderful parents have brought our extended family, the whole mishpucha, 'The Sixteen', on holiday in celebration of my father's 85th birthday. Here we are on the west coast of Costa Rica, in Guanacaste province. It's a dream come true.

Now, on Saturday, I think 'what an amazing world that hath such wacky creatures in it'. And such beautiful landscapes. It has been quite a week-- replete with sun and beaches and pools and monkeys and snakes and crocodiles and waterfalls and iguanas and toucans and parakeets and hot springs and thrills like boating down the Tempisque River amid crocodiles, zip-lining through a canyon, riding horses beneath a volcano, and drinking pure sugar cane juice (really hope my dentist does not read this post).

But after all the wild rides and wild animals, the memories that seem likely to stay with us longest are after all of the tame and the domestic.  The tame: Mischka the kitten, who enchanted my children and became bosom companion to the youngest, years younger than her cousins and brothers and as such without a constant human playmate. We are endlessly grateful to Luis and Carol, the kitten's owners, who brought Mischka daily to the shaded beach, and let our not-quite-12-year-old look after her while they did business with tourists. Today, our last, they were so busy that they even gave her the keys to their car so she could retrieve Mischka herself. The parting this evening was sad and sweet;  Carol took photos and said she would post them on her Facebook page (CarolsanchezBustos) -- I must remember to check!

The domestic: my family, nuclear and extended, 'The Sixteen'. Here's to all of us, for getting the best from the week, for not going nuclear (touch wood--- there are still a few hours to go), and for enjoying one another's company throughout.  We're not The Archers (thank goodness; as Ambridge seems constantly in the midst of disaster-- for example, poor Tony Archer may not recover from his run-in with Otto the bull), but I am beginning to think we really ought to design our own family tea towel.

Meanwhile, happy birthday, Dad! Y muchas gracias!