Saturday, May 11, 2013

Year by year I am getting softer. The first year we were here I didn't wear a coat all winter - it never got that cold. Now, however, five years in, it is 20 degrees and I am wearing two jumpers. Go figure.

Another weekend, another child's birthday party. Today a two-year-old, the last of four siblings. I think I'm going to ask Sprout to only make friends with only children as families with four kids gets expensive, especially at Christmas.

Monday, May 06, 2013

things that only happen in Australia - an occasional series

TA hit a kangaroo in the car last week on the way to Hogwarts. Luckily, he did a defensive driving course with the Army Reserves back in the day that taught him how best to hit a roo (there's precious little hope of avoiding them, unfortunately) and the car and driver survived. The roo died at the scene, I'm afraid.

We are now looking for a new radiator, front grille and headlight mount. (And, again, we got off lightly.)

So, in case you need to know, here's how to hit a kangaroo: get it midair and on the way up. Speed up, if necessary, as slowing down will not help you if the kangaroo is on the ground when the impact hits.

You will not be surprised to learn that, despite now having a license in two countries, I still refuse to drive.

Sunday, May 05, 2013

putting the class into classmate

Small boy had a play date today with a friend from Hogwarts. Now, our house is a perfectly respectable size...if you are English. It has three bedrooms, a bathroom, a loo, a laundry area, living room, dining room/kitchen and a front and back garden. By Australian standards it is tiny. And we are clearly poor (it doesn't help that we left what furniture we have in London - everything here is hand-me-downs or bought from Vinnies [think Oxfam]).

So, we drove to the foot of the local mountain range and found the right place (set in five acres of, essentially, parkland). It was massive. More of a community centre than a house. Small boy's friend has a fully furnished playroom that's bigger than our living room with a full-size wooden horse and a piano).

Small boy had a whale of a time, but his parents came home crushed. I hope he won't always be the poor pikey kid in the class. Hesitantly, I suggested that friend have a sleepover at our house soon. When do children get a dose of class consciousness? Are we being perverse sending him to a school full of more privileged kids or does our commitment to education say good things about us? 

Saturday, May 04, 2013

So, where were we?

I got a full time job just as TA lost his. TA went back to school (again) and did a degree in illustration, fast-tracked, in a year. He also published two core rule books for his RPG system, FateStorm. Sprout is now a small boy, and attends Hogwarts, the nearly local school of magic. The school fees are 1/3 of my take-home pay, but I refuse to attempt to get a better job or do anything other than sulk.

I have become a regular in the op-shops.

I met a man on a diet website looking for instructions on how to make bacon (him, not me - I recommended HFW's MEAT book, sadly, I'm not inventing this) and nearly had an affair, which certainly wasn't part of the game plan. However, despite everything, TA and I remain married and more or less together.

I continue to teeter on the very outer edge of what might loosely be termed sanity.

I have work friends, but not a social life beyond TA and small boy's social circles. I continue to be cripplingly homesick.

The Christmas before last, we took small boy to the Isle for a traditional English celebration. Two weeks after we got back, my father had a very severe stroke and has been left struggling for words. We will be going back in a few weeks for a three-week visit. Every visit now (and there aren't many, clearly) might well be the last.

Testing, testing

*Clears throat*

It's still here and Freeman in Preston is still around and...

Why did I ever leave this place behind? So much and nothing at all has happened in the interim. I dunno, I might come back here. Dust. Tidy up. Open a few windows. I've been writing in other places, but this was my first home. Hmmm. It might be time to reconnect with the past. There's a lot of catching up to do.

Tuesday, August 03, 2010

I'm shiny and new. Open spaces. Possibilities. I'm excited...

Friday, June 18, 2010

gordon effing bennet
Wow. It's been bloody ages.
Life, eh? Super crazy, huh? I'm listening to Radio 4 on t'interwebs. I'm a mother of R two days a week, working two days a week, a wife at the weekends and what am I doing the other one day of seven. What?
What am I doing?
Where has my life gone?
Answers on a postcard.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

mutherfucking kangaroo
I saw one, jumping down the streeet. Our street. The street where we live (in complete Tom-and-Barbara stylee). Gordon-fucking-Bennett.
Other news; there is none.
The vegetable garden is coming along; the apple and lemon trees both appear to be doing well (though the app;e treee frankly needs a really hard prune [don't we all, dear] both should drop some fruit at least).
I wish there was news. I wish there was life beyone child and garden. Certainly, finding worth ('quality'), finding a reason to live in housework is a challenge, but never let it be said I couldn't rise to a challenge. And Sprout is amazingly adorable, so there.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

fun - ee cummings style
Just so that the joy is recorded along with the misery...
when the world is mud-
luscious

when the world is mud-luscious

when the world is puddle-wonderful
when the world is puddle-wonderful

it's
spring
and
the

goat-footed

balloonMan whistles
far
and
wee

video

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

jump, jump, jump, jump, jump, jumping
Christ, things are mad here. Nowhere to live. No job. Staying with TA's friends, who have a Sprout-aged little girl, while TA teaches in Melbourne. We're saving money, but my sanity has gone for a burton. Sprout is up from 3am every night feeding until 6am, at which point I just give up and get both of us up. I miss London. I miss work. I miss friends. I miss having an identity that is separate from my relationship with TA and Sprout. I miss being a functioning adult. I miss understanding how the world works. I miss sleep. I miss the BBC and freedom to listen to Radio 4. I miss writing - here, there, everywhere. I miss my figure - I'm Rubensesque.
I'm looking for somewhere to live (I still don't understand how it can take months - and I'm the one living it); I'm looking for a job. Frequently, I'm looking for my sanity - if you see it, please let me know.
My days are a blur of coffee and childcare. We go to the park. A lot.
Sometimes TA and I commit to doing something 'fun'. Last weekend we went to a children's farm so that Sprout and I could stroke piglets. On the way there, a kangaroo jumped across the road in front of us. That brings my kangaroo spottings to two.
We've been in Australia nearly a year. Very few days have gone by where I've not wished I was still in London.

Monday, April 13, 2009

orphaned
Back to my point of origin, but feel both hyper-connected and strangely distanced. Unreal city, unreal island. Sprout doesn't care, of course, as long as there's milk and me he's happy. He's not so keen on the grandparents though and, presumably thanks to the plane journey, he is spraying snot every which way - his first non-teething illness. Nice to be back in the homeland of melus melus though.