What Could Have Been, What Could Be.

The seasons in the UK are much more defined than back in Australia. There isn't a gradual shift, no crossfades like in a movie, just a morning where you look outside and the world has changed. One day you're wearing a coat and scarf while you walk the dogs, the next you're wondering whether to even bother with a jacket. It's a clear shift in light, colour palette and mood. Even the sounds seem different. Birdsong shifts gear, the air seems more alert. And each time it happens I find myself pausing, taking stock, wondering whether these quiet sudden seasonal pivots happened back in Australia and I just missed them, or whether the seasons over there truly blurred.

Maybe as I get older, I pay more attention, am more aware. Maybe the landscape and the climate make it more obvious. Or maybe living this far north means you can’t help but notice when the days start to stretch, when the mornings are brighter a little earlier, and the afternoons are reluctant to let go of their light. The change slowly settles in, but at some point it simply feels as if the new season has crept in while you were looking the other way. That point was during last week.

Perhaps it's the changing seasons, but I've had reason to reflect the past few weeks, thinking back to things that have happened and what might have been. Times when I made decisions - sliding door moments - which led me to where I am now. Opportunities ignored, missed or lost. And for the most part I have few regrets. I was disappointed on a couple of occasions when plans fell apart or simply didn't come to fruition. A few I stretched for but was either not skilled enough or couldn't reach high enough to grasp.

I hear people say that it ‘would have happened if it was meant to be.’ I've always felt this is a mantra we repeat when we need to make sense of a disappointment, a way of trying to rationalise the things that never quite materialised. But when I look back at those disappointments, and realise that for the most part it was for the best, I start to wonder about whether those near misses I took to heart were actually narrow escapes in disguise. The past month has held a sliding door moment. A decision made which I have since realised would probably have led me down a path I wasn’t meant to walk, a path I wouldn’t have wanted to walk, and I imagine the passing of time will confirm that. But I woke this morning feeling strange, imbued with something I haven’t felt for some time. I had to poke it and prod it, explore it before I could recognise it. I found a strange calm in my mind, a sense of hope, as if something had finally settled inside me, a quiet reassurance I couldn’t quite explain but didn’t want to question too deeply. A weight I didn’t realise I was carrying had gently lifted, leaving more than a hint of optimism in its place. Was it the recent near miss? The lighter mornings creeping in? Or was it that the Brits around me, many of them recently weighed down by the winter blues, had begun to thaw? They’re chirping again, like the birds I hear each morning, and it’s hard not to notice. And perhaps, in the end, it is none of those but a combination. A blend of things. A quiet relief at a near miss, the promise of a new season, and the faintest changes stirring both within me and without me. A change in the light, a change in the air, a change in the people around me, and a change in me. The seasons turn whether I am paying attention or not, yet this one arrived with a clarity I could not ignore. As the world around me begins to brighten, with mornings growing lighter and people shaking off their winter heaviness, I feel something in myself brightening too. Not loudly or dramatically, but enough. Enough to notice. Enough to carry. Enough to trust that whatever comes next, I am stepping into it with a softer tread than I had before, with a growing sense that things will work out, and that I will end up where I am supposed to be.

Passing Patrons

It's been almost eight years since I moved back to the UK. And where I live is quite different to where I lived in Australia. It's certainly quieter, slower and more laid back. I love the little village in which I live, and the city is quite beautiful.

People often ask me whether I miss Australia. I have moments, of course, but what I do miss most are my family and friends.

I have plenty of friends in the UK, and people I am friendly with, but I haven't really made any mates. Those who will drop over for a pint, or to watch the footy, or just to hurl abuse and mock you. As you get older, it gets harder to make new close friends.  I think this level of friendship occurs due to shared interests, experiences or through the mutual looking for friends. By my age, most people already have their friendship circle and don't need any more. I suppose it doesn't help that most of my interests seem not to be shared by anyone around me.

On the weekend, I was in another city for a conference. A splendid time was had, and during the dinner break I headed out to find some food. I ended up in a small Indian restaurant, and shared a table with another patron, someone not attending the conference.  I really enjoyed his company, and we seemed to have so much in common. We chatted about music (similar tastes), laughed, and generally had a good time. And then I had to leave.

I said bye, and headed out. A minute or so later, I considered returning to ask if we could connect on social media, but I figured that might be weird. It's unlikely we'd ever get to hang out due to the distance between our cities, and that's what I would have really enjoyed.

Maybe I should have. You never know. We might have ended up hanging out, somehow, somewhere. But if it's meant to happen, it'll happen. So Mark, if you're out there and somehow reading this, get in touch. 

Milestones!

I had a big birthday recently. One of those with a zero on the end. And for the first time ever, the numbers actually meant something to me.

Usually I agree that age is just a number. And I've never before given a second though to my age. But the lead up to this one was a little odd. It just felt weird, like I was actually passing some invisible barrier which would change things.

A couple of weeks after the event, and I'm OK with it, but the lead up was ... unsettling, to say the least.

My brother and his wife came to visit, and it was fabulous to see them. I managed to show them around all the sights of Lincoln. My brother loves his history as much as I do, so it was great to see his appreciation of Castles and Cathedrals, Romans and Normans.

We had a small family get-together for my bif day, and right on cue the Red Arrows flew over. It was kinda nice. I received some lovely and thoughtful gifts, and have already spent the book vouchers which were included.

It was great seeing my brother and his wife. But it was wonderful chatting to my brother. He gets my sense of humour, and shares a history.

Thanks for making the trip, guys. Truly appreciated.

Home Is Where The Stomach Is?

It has been three years since I was last in Australia. Generally I go back every 18 months or so, but the pandemic threw that timeline out of whack. Once airlines started flying again, flights were limited, rules and restrictions were tight, and prices were beyond ridiculous. In the end I figured I would wait until things were a bit more back to normal.

Sometimes I am asked if I miss Australia, and I suppose I do - not in any yearning, sit at home, homesick kind of way, but there are times when I feel like I would quite like to go somewhere or do something over there. Mostly I just miss my family and friends.

I belong to an expat group on Facebook. For the most part it's encouraging, supportive and fun and I quite enjoy it. People regularly share tips on like in the UK, including which shops currently have Tim Tams and other goodies for sale. Others share pictures of care packages sent from loved ones. Sometimes we just get to joke about things that make no sense if we say them to Brits. ("Lock it in, Eddie" was mentioned recently)

Personally, I'm don't yearn for Australian snacks and sweets in the same way others do, although occasionally I would love a dim sim or a Chiko roll. Just one, and then I'd be good to go for another year. But there are some on there who are in the UK because they married a Brit, and are desperately homesick. I feel for them. Homesickness can be a terrible thing.

I don't feel that personally. Maybe because I was born here, and to me this has always felt like home anyway. Maybe because I enjoy my job and have my wife's family close by, or maybe because my feelings just don't work that way.

I look forward to going back. When it happens, I'll relish the time spent there, in the company of friends and family. And expect me to return here with a couple of extra kilos round my waist.

Farewell, Mabel.

A couple of weeks ago I took this photo of Mabel sleeping on the floor. A few days ago she passed away. 

It was only in April 2019 we said farewell to Millie, and that hurt. Now we have lost both girls, it hurts even more. 

Mabel was a lovely old girl, somewhere around 16 years old, who loved life and was curious about everything. A small dog with a huge personality and a big heart. Mabel was one in a million, and we weren't the only ones to think that. So many people loved this dog. Friends from around the world sent messages. Some from Australia, who knew her from before her big move to the UK, were in tears.

She was  a very very good girl.

Her arthritis has recently been causing some discomfort, and she got tired quickly, but she still had a good appetite and loved life.

Overnight we woke to her panting. She couldn't get comfortable and seemed out of sorts. We managed to get her to the vet today, but we came home alone.

The memories of this special girl will live with us forever. And those are something we cherish and love.

Sleep well, Mabel.

 

 

Farewell, Millie

In 2006 we went to the animal rescue centre to buy a dog. We came home with much more.

We walked out with a Jack Russell/Fox Terrier cross, who was tiny and nervous, but smart and loyal. She may have been small but she had a huge heart and despite her nerves, was courageous. I saw her go into battle against much larger dogs who were threatening her sister, our other gentle dog.

When we moved to the UK, Millie came with us. I've been told that someone even asked my family why we had shipped her, as you can easily buy a new dog in  the UK.  I guess that person never had a dog,

I sometimes hesitate to use the word "owner". Sure, we could probably dig up a receipt, and the government probably has us listed as registered owners, but dogs, good dogs, have a way of getting into your heart and becoming more than a pet.  With her sister, she sat in the back seat as we drove through France, into Scotland, across the UK, and around parts of Australis. She made us laugh, cuddled us both, and made me feel good and wanted when I arrived home after a stressful day.

Millie died a few weeks ago, at the ripe old age of 17. We had to let her go, even though we didn't want to. That was a tough choice, but we did the right thing. Her vet here (as well as the one back in Australia) was fantastic, and we are grateful for the service they provided.

Goodbye Millie. Sleep well.

It's Those Little Differences.

Sometime the smallest differences are the ones that stand out the most. I'm talking here about life in the UK as opposed to Australia, and while I agree the weather, accents, building styles and so on are the most obvious differences, they're not the ones that make me ponder.

Those are differences you expect when you visit another country. The ones that stick in my mind are those you don't or can't anticipate. And so, to celebrate diversity and differences between these nations, here are a few things I find a little odd here.

Not frustrating, not weird, just interestingly different to what I'm used to.

Can I help?
This is the one shop assistants ask when you're waiting in line. Not Can I help you?, but Can I help? And this truncated form still sounds odd to me even after a couple of years.

Polite Notice
While a sign in an Australian car park might read "Warning: Private Car Park. Violators will be towed", in the UK the word Warning is likely to be replaced with Polite Notice. I'm still trying to figure out which part is polite, and why it needs to be declared. It's almost like those veiled threats in noir movies, a friendly warning.

Indicators
Apparently they are optional in the UK, and even the police and road safety people have told me you only have to use them in situations where you think it's necessary. So if you're in a turn lane, or there's no-one else around, don't bother. Of course that means sometimes people make turns (or don't) when you least expect it.

Street Names
There are many, many, many fine examples. Some are named simply because of their destination. In Heighington, the road that leads to Branston is known as the Branston Road. Once you're arrived at Branston, however, it's known as the Heighington Road. I've wondered if there's an official point at which it changes, or does it always depend on your destination? Other street/alley/lane names are simply weird or very, very naughty. Local favourites include The Smooting, and The Glory Hole.

Australian Preconceptions
While we all have preconceptions of the 'other', The UK have built their ideas on TV tourism ads, Neighbours, and Steve Irwin. No, we are not inundated with deadly spiders and snakes which we daily battle, we don't spend every free minute at the beach or having barbeques with shrimps, very few of us every drink Fosters voluntarily, and we don't all have glorious weather 365 days are year. Oh, and rugby. Unless you're from New South Wales or Queensland, very few of us even care. Many are surprised I don't know a thing about rugby, or that I saw my first game on TV when I was in my late 30s. And we're not even talking League here, they mean Union - which has even less of a following in Australia.

Just a few of the things I've noticed. There are more, but we have to remember that there are things about Australia the Brits find odd.

These tiny cultural differences are wonderful. They only enrich our lives.

Another Christmas in the UK.

I've finished work for the break.

Most of the office went out for a Christmas lunch, which then extended into the evening until I left around 9pm to head home. I must say we had a fantastic time.

I really enjoyed the company of my colleagues. The whole atmosphere was very jovial and we had a lot of laughs. Somewhere in the evening I lost my car keys. It was crowded and someone knocked my work bag off a chair. I didn't realise the keys were gone until I was about to head home. I checked but couldn't find them. Apparently they were handed in five minutes after I left and I managed to retrieve them the next morning.

Hardly the worst thing that's ever happened to me.

Christmas in the UK is still one of my favourite things. People wear Christmas Jumpers - which isn't a thing in Australia. Most of us wear t-shirts at that time of year. But here it gets dark early, the lights are on, and it feels like Christmas is supposed to feel.

It's all very cosy and festive and seems right.

We have family visiting Lincoln for Christmas and Boxing Days, and I can't wait.  Yes, for the family, but mostly because I really enjoy Christmas lunches.

Merry Christmas, everyone. I hope you're not hearing Wham's Last Christmas in the shops too often.

The Stars Align.

 I love it when a good plan comes together, and my current plan to move to the UK in July is certainly doing that.

Everything, it seems, is simply falling into place. Selling our house here, finding a rental in England, flights for us, relocating our beloved dogs and shipping our possessions. And then last night one of the largest puzzle pieces eased into position.

After a telephone interview I was offered a teaching post at a school quite close to where we will be living. Not only is it fantastic to know I will have some income and job security upon arrival, but this is a school that was on my shortlist of places I would love to work. And this was a very short list of only two.

I submitted three job applications last week. Two were to schools near my future home that weren't on my shortlist, although I have no doubt I'd have been very happy working at either of them. But I am excited I was successful so early. Having employment already organised will certainly make our transition easier and less worrying.

There are other events occurring. Wheels are turning, cogs are moving, planets are aligning and signs are written in the stars. Strange things are indeed afoot at the Circle K. I won't go into details, except that even sceptical friends are shaking their head and saying this move is meant to be.

I feel energised, not only about teaching, but about my writing. A couple of rejections in the past week - personal rejections that were encouraging yet caused me to sigh with an "oooh, so close." I've been so busy with the move for the past few months that my writing (and this page) have been neglected. This, of course, will improve shortly. Before the big move even, as I start to wind down my life here.

But not this week. I still have too much to do before I can afford to relax too much.

The Countdown Continues.

I only have a few short months left before I make the big move over to the UK.

When my wife and I first decided to go, it all seemed so far away. As usual, however, time passes very quickly when there are deadlines and much to do. But we are progressing well, right on schedule in fact, and we'll be ready when the time comes.

There was a lot of culling - furniture, clothes and even books. There will be more items that need to go, but not until the last minute.

Our flights are booked, as are the flights for our dogs. They're getting used to sleeping in their crates and seem to quite enjoy them.

A lot of people have asked whether I have found employment in the UK. Not yet. It's still a bit early for that as their school year doesn't commence until September. But we have found a place to live, and I have made initial contact with a few schools in the area.

I will be at Continuum in June, for those who want to catch up and buy me a drink. I guess my next convention will be somewhere in the UK.

I'm excited by the prospect of the move. New life, new experiences, new people to annoy. And, I must add, a little nervous by venturing into the unknown. But I figure that if I can live in Japan for six years, I can manage a few years in my homeland.