First impressions – Friday, February 14
The next morning I woke up to the soft clatter of a keyboard and a gentle childish whisper in my face, "auntie." My daughter-in-law was working from home, and my nephew was dying of boredom. After a sufficient amount of coffee, I came to my senses and decided to take a walk around the neighborhood. Marty refused to be my guide (his day at school was non-school, but present for the teachers) and he got stuck playing some video game and demonstratively closed the door to his room under my nose. And I decided to pamper myself by taking a nice bath with salts. I adore this facility, which I cannot have at home for technical reasons. And Marty gave me some special bath soap of his and plunged into his world again. I struggled with my brother's soul for a long time. Strange batteries that I wondered where to turn for a long time... I felt like Mowgli. Still, I managed to fill the bathtub and blissfully soaked until the water turned cold.
The weather was damp and gloomy, but somehow cozy. It wasn't cold. I felt strange. I found myself in a remote neighborhood of the city, surrounded by greenery on all sides. The houses were of the same type, low-rise and very similar. I listened to the chirping of birds and seemed to fall into a timelessness. There was no one around. At one point I realized what I was missing... that specific noise of ours, the noise of cars, the movement of people on the streets or even the radio from the house next door. Nothing could be heard here. And yet the feeling was pleasant, although different.
I walked down the alley, made a detour, and passed by the back alley. It felt like I was walking in a park. It was beautiful and cozy. I peeked curiously into the neighbors' backyards, where the fences were lower, hoping I didn't seem intrusive... or suspicious.
Cheriton Place is a quiet side street, with small well-maintained houses and greenery, suitable for families. The architecture is in Victorian style, the houses are brick, two-storey, often with bay windows (windows glued to the road), decorative gables and small gardens in front. Traditional red and yellow bricks predominate, but there are also painted in pastels - cream, white, more neutral, a contemporary touch that gives freshness. The typical configuration: entrance hallway, front living room/lounge with bay window, dining room and kitchen block in the back. On the second floor - 2-3 bedrooms and a bathroom with toilet. The whole feeling is of a place where tradition and new, city and family warmth coexist.
On Friday, my sister-in-law worked until lunchtime, and in the afternoon we decided to walk to the nearest supermarket. I found out that Marty's school was very close, literally two blocks away, and I wondered if they would let me take a look inside. Honestly, I didn't have high hopes, but asking doesn't hurt. We headed to the school.
St Barnabas Church of England Primary School— a wonderful school, suitable for children from 3 to 11 years old with a capacity of 240 places. The priority is values such as responsibility, respect, wisdom, compassion, perseverance and forgiveness. There is a great emphasis on individual development — students are encouraged not only to study, but also to grow as individuals, active in their community. The school has been awarded the "Sydney Award" for expanding understanding of religions and is a holder of the Bristol Standard certificate for early education.
From a distance, St Barnabas' Primary looks like many other English schools — a low brick building, children's drawings on the windows, and a green door that opens with a quiet creak. But from the first step, you feel that something is different here. We were greeted by Miss Shepherd, the headmistress. Smiling and radiant, she moved like part of the building — not a principal, but a guardian. She, of course, clearly recognized Marty and was happy for him. We explained that I was his aunt from Bulgaria, that I was a teacher and was infinitely curious to peek into an English educational institution. And surprisingly for me, she smiled broadly and said that she would be happy to have us as their guests. She apologized that she could not personally show us around because they had work to do, and asked Marty to be my tour guide. Naturally, he agreed with great pleasure.
Even though there were no children, the school was bustling with life. The building was low, I felt like my head was going to hit the ceiling. The whole atmosphere reminded me more of our kindergarten than a typical Bulgarian elementary school. We walked from room to room through the corridors, decorated with children's drawings. Marty explained to us which room was in which class, he hadn't been to the older students' ones either, and it was interesting to him. The rooms of the little ones and the older ones were different. In the little ones, everything reminded me exactly of a kindergarten, the tables and chairs were somehow scattered, there were toys and drawings... I was impressed that the children left their supplies there, arranged on shelves, labeled. We looked at Marty's notebooks, who proudly showed us how well he was doing. In the older children's rooms, there were desks arranged in a standard way, there instead of toys and drawings we saw various geographical and historical boards... here you could already feel the school atmosphere. In each room there was a board with a sort of program of what the children had visited or done and what activities were coming up.
We peeked into the school library and I didn't want to leave. We also saw the gym, equipped with a variety of equipment and facilities for games and sports. We were met in the corridors by smiling teachers, of course everyone knew Martin, and he happily explained that there were guests from Bulgaria. I left with the feeling that I had been to a place that not only educates, but also builds characters. And I wished that every child would have the chance to start their world from such a place.
We thanked her for the visit and headed to the store. When we got home, my niece Steffi had returned from college and she and her mother started arguing about whether she should go to the afternoon lectures. Basically, all teenagers are the same, regardless of geographical location. I started explaining how important it was for her to return in the afternoon, especially since the lecture would be on law… Steffi looked at me like “wow, you’re so boring,” but she went anyway. In the evening, when my brother got home from work, we visited the local Lidl as a family (without Steffi, of course, she went to the movies with friends).
© 2025 Iliana Dechkova