I’ve always focused on the anything part. Which just leads to confusion, how do you decide, when you can do anything?

Today I chose to pursue the thing I wanted to do, not just the thing I could do, and was successful.

Sometime in March or April I will begin managing the implementation of a restructure, which I’ve been scoping for 2 days a week since January. I’ll actually be working to make a difference to people and to help them, doing something worthwhile I can be proud of. Not spinning my wheels at work I’m OK at with minimal direction, as I did for most of 2009.

It won’t be easy, but it will be challenging, and it will be the skillset that I enjoy using.

That’s the first necessary change of 2010, the year of the Tiger.

Stay tuned for part 2

Ponderment. copyright Jedidiah Morley

After a year of absolutely lovely weather in South-East England (Poki, I don’t care what you feel obliged to say about English summers, 2009 was lovely ;P ) January was just dismal. Grey, bleak, dark, all those English weather cliches you hear about so much. I think we had 4 days that were not oppressively overcast. Blerch!

So, that’s my major excuse for lack of blogging here during January. Mild depression and introspectiveness caused by the weather. I didn’t have the energy to get my thoughts onto the page. Also, Jed gets SAD, so a lot of my January was spent gently bolstering him and picking up some slack in day to day life so he could take the time he needed for naps. (NB: this is not to imply he wasn’t pulling his weight, just that we all fluctuate with the seasons, and perhaps acknowledging this more often would lead to a less broken society).

The dismal weather was coupled with the 9 month homesickness jag. Or maybe the first winter homesickness jag.Whichever way reaching out to others was a bit tough for the last month.

However, while all this was happening there was also stirrings in other areas, indicating what the year ahead would be like. The soil in which my new life has been planted has been warming up, shoots are starting to poke through the soil, buds are unfurling, and all other aspects of that metaphor that are appropriate. To whit:

Work has been busy and mostly fulfilling. I’m running the implementation of a restructure for one of the services in the Council, which means my strengths are actually (finally!) being used. At least, they are for 2 days a week, since that’s all the time I am allowed to bill to this project. This is rather frustrating, not least because this service asked for full-time support and needs full-time support. My team is under-staffed and playing political games so this service didn’t get the support it needed.

I’ve been seriously thinking about my future, what I do well, what I excel at and enjoy. All sorts of ideas are cropping up, realigning my assumption that life was going to take me through a traditional hierarchical career path. Perhaps I am more suited to project based consultancy type work. Go in, fix a problem, then move on. I get rather bored once it’s all routine. Then combine this with ideas I have for a content-based online ittybiz for some other income. A more fluid life.

Combining the two ideas, next week I am going to see if the service wants to hire me full-time. I’m still on an ongoing monthly contract with my current team, so there’s no compunction to stay there. There may be internal politics, i.e. a feeling that my manager’s manager has to be asked if he can spare me. Which is unfortunate, since he is likely to say no, as they need me. They don’t, they could find someone else to rewrite strategies for them at the drop of a hat. Finding someone who can walk into a service and gently, respectfully guide them through a restructure is much more difficult to find.

Also, I’m a bit grumpy about this, as the entire bargain of having a contractor on site is that you can fire them when it’s expedient, but they are also likely to leave if a better offer comes along. I tend to have a very particular idea of the employment bargain: it’s two sided and I get a say in what sort of work I do, or I’ll find something else. I’m aware of my assets enough to not settle, and certainly not because one director holds more of a sway then another one does. We’ll see how this one pans out.

Talking futures, we’ve been plotting Jed’s future as well. Trumpet flare: He now has his paintings available for sale on line via a print-on-demand site. Go look! They’re fantastic, I’m so proud. Order something if it suits you, or forward to someone else who might like to look.

I’ve spent a lot of the last couple of months skilling up in online marketing and small business administration to support him in this endeavour. It will make him so much happier to be able to do this, and I have those skills already, generally contracted out to someone else. What better use of them is there than to support my love. Complementary aspects.

Last night we registered a URL for him. Today I will be doing the initial install and build of the site. Later next week (maybe) we’ll launch it. Very exciting!

Despite the SAD, I’ve watched him blossom and change in the last month, as he’s had permission (and given himself that permission) to paint, to create, to put his work out into the world and get good feedback.

My 2010 kicks off on Chinese New Year – next weekend. Stayed tuned for what this might look like. In short, brighter and better than 2009. Thankfully!

Here’s the first part of a (hopefully) 4 part series to catch you all up on the end of December and January. The other three will cover home & local area and work & future direction, and things that happened that were not Christmas.

Obviously I need to resolve to either follow through on promises, or not make promises in the first place. Gentle self-awareness suggests that the second option is probably more realistic.

We spent the week before Christmas at Jed’s parents place in Devon with all the family, including his sister. Overall it was quite a pleasant week . As I’d spent Easter and another weekend in Devon I felt much more comfortable with the routine of the family, and I suspect they felt more comfortable with me.

It was a week off from the madness of life. A week to not think about house, work, future direction, immigration, fitting in, and to not freak out about the snow (which had fallen two days before we left).

There was good food, fun times shared, traditional danish christmas crafts made, games played, a 1000 piece puzzle completed, sleep-ins (until the tea brigade decided it was time to get up), a dog to throw sticks for, a walk on the beach on Christmas Eve (surprisingly not too cold), and generally enough time out to just be.

I had some rather interesting conversations with Jed’s parents about their history, and their experiences with Jed. One rather interesting chat with Asta (his mum) about her philosophy on life, and with Jed’s sister on the relationship with L and Jed’s reactions in the past year as he divested much of the guilt and anger from the divorce.

Christmas morning was lovely and gentle, I felt very welcome and a natural part of the festivities, rather than Jed’s odd girlfriend from Australia that had entered their lives only 9 months previously. Christmas lunch was yummy, with ample gravy (which I helped cook) too much turkey (of course), and Devon clotted cream to go with the pudding. The only traditional item lacking was ham, but that’s OK, we survived somehow.

It was my first Christmas as a step-parent, and I’d helped to buy things for L’s stocking, and so had a lot of fun watching her face as she showed us what she’d received in her stocking from Santa (frog shaped tiddlywinks for the win!)

However, it was also a somewhat confronting and stressful week .

I don’t deal very well with not being in my own domain, unless I am constantly shifting locales while travelling. I am especially bad at being in someone else’s domain. I generally don’t know how to behave, and in the absence of any direction will become quite passive. I’ll happily entertain myself, but I am very nervous about interfering, being a bother or getting in the way and so don’t do anything else unless asked or directed. At which point I will quite cheerfully help out. I can cope with passivity for about 4 days and then I go stir-crazy from lack of control over my life, from the loss of my routines and needing to conform to someone else’s routines and expectations.

Understandably, on the morning of day 4 I petulantly did not answer the plaintive “Tea?” yelled up the stairs which is code for: “time to wake up and get out of bed, the chickens have been up for hours!” and was rather harumphy when the door was opened and I was asked specifically about my tea and what I wanted for breakfast. By day 6 I was over sensitive, quite weepy and more needy than usual with Jed. It’s a demonstration of what we’ve both been through that we were able to work out that it was situational and that we’d be fine when we went home, the next day. Previously we’d have reacted very differently, with more fallout.

It was a challenging week in terms of my conceptions of parenting and L in general. The first night was a particular challenge, as I watched her revert to learned patterns of behaviour. Watched the happy, generous, cheerful girl I knew revert back to a nervous, pouty, acting out, attention-seeking child. That was very confronting. Very.

Over the past few months I’ve seen L change from a somewhat sulky child at dinner who used her eating habits as a tool for attention into someone who is generally happy to eat her food, providing you give her time and don’t make a song and dance about it (oh and it generally conforms to things she’s OK eating, which is fine, since I don’t like capsicum/peppers and won’t eat them). I’ve also watched her change from someone who expects adults to clean up after her and fetch things for her to someone who understands there are limits to this, and is a bit more thoughtful with things, such as clearing plates after dinner. Now we just need to work on getting her to say what she wants rather than skirting around the issue and it’ll be fantastic.

At the same time Jed has shifted from a father with unpredictable mood swings, who was distant at times and who frequently needed long afternoon naps to cope with it all. To someone who is more constant in his moods and expectations and who exhibits patience and happiness with L more often than not. He is a good Dad.

While these changes have happened for a variety of  reasons, I had deliberately acted to create the space for some of these changes, so we could all have more steady, pleasant weekends together. Hence, watching L revert was personally confronting. Although, at the same time it confirmed my view that she is incredibly sensitive to the expectations and attitudes of those around her.

Jed’s parents had not seen these changes, and they were reacting to the child they remembered, as well as the image of their son which in some ways was based on the difficult teenager he was (and who remained through his twenties in some ways), so their techniques and attitudes compensated for this expected behaviour, but at the same time gave space for the behaviour to revert.

 So we had a week of 4 adults responsible for one child; one who was happy to have a break from parenting where feasible, although still read bedtime stories, had fun and laid down rules where necessary; one who believed that L should be actively pressured to eat things and would fetch anything for her whenever she requested (even if they were ill and had been on their feet all day and had just sat down to watch a film), one who believed that L should eat better, but also understood her levels of sensitivity to being teased and pressured and who was very good at finding interesting crafty things for her to do; and me, who is really happy to spend time with L and do things together and be part of her chatter, but who also will not become a servant to someone still sitting around in her PJs at 3 in the afternoon, nor make a song and dance about how much she’s eaten.

I worried about this, my more stringent/strict attitude in this space, and there were occasions where I really felt like the Dragon Lady, especially compared to the general feeling of the family. However, after we got home, I was told that Jed’s mum had appreciated having someone in the house who was able to bring a different view of how to treat L and could vocalise this in a firm, non-confrontational way. Which I did on the night of the first melt-down.

Overall, I think I’m approved of on all sorts of levels. Which is a relief.

The other confronting aspect of the week was Christmas day itself and a non-phone call with my parents. That was just bad timing all round.

The previous evening I’d had a lovely conversation with my sister. Christmas eve in the UK, Christmas morning in Australia. Perfect. I was awake and chatty, she was not tired from the exhausting dislocating day that is Christmas (for everyone). The carefully planned idea of the best way for everyone to feel connected and happy worked.

However this didn’t happen with my parents. They mis-read the phone number I sent them and didn’t manage to get through until the next morning. This unfortunately co-incided with L showing us her christmas stocking, perched on the end of the bed, perhaps the first nice “us” time we’d had all week. I’d also not yet eaten or had any caffeine, never a particularly chatty time for me. And then, as it was the peak crossover period for Christmas between the UK and Australia, EVERYONE was talking to their relatives. It was the worst line I’ve ever experienced for long distance calls. I could only understand every 3rd line. So there were many requests for repetition and asking for clarification. Very, very frustrating. 

I know my mum had been waiting all day for that call, that it was late in the evening for them, and they’d likely stayed up to chat, that we’d not spoken since August and that I’m such a bad correspondent in general that she gets most of her news through this website which is not the way she’d like things to be. My dad is a bad correspondent as well, so we’d not exchanged news since August, and I really enjoy chatting with my father about eclectic topics in a cynical manner, and casting aspersions upon social expectations.

Instead they were presented with a daughter on a bad phone line, who was un-chatty, and who had spent a week disconnecting from the stress of moving to the UK and so had no answers to “how are things going?”, beyond “OK”, and was not willing to delve inside herself to even glance at the knot that was the tangle of sad, stressed, depressed emotions from the previous few months. A knot she knew would be disappearing soon, and from which she’d had a blessed week’s break.

I finished the call feeling depressed and sad, thinking that for yet another Christmas I’d managed to disappoint my parents, to re-inforce their opinion of me as thoughtless, self-centred and shallow, and hating the expectations that people have about Christmas interactions. To be honest it still hurts, but then, this is an old complicated hurt, not likely to be fixed so quickly.

But, as I eluded to in this post, this is my most introspective time of the year, so I have many thoughts and ideas chasing around in my head, none of which are ready to be structured, which also means they’re not quite ready to be shared.

The effect is that I feel like I don’t have anything specific to say. Yet. Soon there will be a flood of ideas and thoughts and observations.

A lot of these thoughts have been around my experience of 2009, and hence what I’m heading into in 2010. What is apparent is that 2009 was about being tossed around on the waves in a boat with no paddle, seeing where the currents took me with the occasional large wave washing over the boat and causing chaos. I think 2010 is shaping up to be time when I get a paddle and start to steer the boat again.

I’ve been too passive (necessarily so, while dealing with so much change), but I’m feeling the desire to become more active again.

Hence I’m changing gears. Thinking about livelihood and social life and what I need to be happy HERE, rather than what made me happy in Sydney. I can learn from my past, but I can’t replicate it.

I’m also questioning my assumptions about how to earn money, thinking about what my skills are and what I enjoy doing, rather than what career I want. A subtle but important difference.

I hear you saying: “this is all well and good, but why can’t you keep us updated with what you’ve been doing?” Mostly, it all got a bit overwhelming. I wanted to upload the Christmas photos before I talked about Christmas, and that took more than a week, and then the overwhelm of writing about 2 weeks of life, and then the stress/frustration of going back to work, and then work has been (pleasantly) busy ever since. So, I promise to have some sort of “What I Did over Christmas and January” type post up by the end of the week.

In the meantime, a brainstorming request: Let’s pretend you had the funds and could hire me, on some sort of basis to do something for you, or make something for you, that you know I’d be good at, better than most other people you know. What would that be? (non-smutty answers only please). I’m trying to gauge what sort of things other people perceive that I am good at, as often we have blinkers on this aspect of ourselves.

Also, what sort of things would you seek my input on? Advice? Specialist information? e.g. I have a questions about X, I know I’ll ask Karinne!

Firstly, my history with snow: when I was 9 we went to the Victorian snow fields in Australia. It snowed a little bit when I was in the UK in April 2008, but it had melted by midday. That’s it. So snow is quite alien to me, and hence I don’t know how to deal with it, or what might happen when it snows, what the different sorts of snows mean, and when to be careful. Quite scary for Little Miss Capable and Independent.

So, day 1 of snow, on 16 December was quite confronting. Also, it was the first real wake-up call that my life had substantially changed. Very much a ‘Toto I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore’ moment. Up to this point my subconcious hadn’t really absorbed that it was somewhere different. Most of the things I experienced could have occurred in Australia, somewhere, sort of. Snow in an urban environment? Nuh huh! Just weird. So I freaked a bit. It didn’t help that I had a colleague sitting next to me panicing about being snowed in, as they were in February. We kept ratcheting up each other’s anxiety levels.

I’m currently sitting on the 4th floor of the building I work in. It overlooks the Thames and the Olympic Park (in the far distance there’s some cranes, but everyone points it out to you on your first day) and there’s snow falling from the sky. Which is weird. Although this snow is less weird, to me, than the stuff we had on 16 December. Simply because it’s mostly falling, like rain. Which leads me to my first weird thing about snow:

Sometimes it blows back up into the sky. Whirling clouds of snow. Weather is not supposed to go UP! It’s supposed to fall, preferably in heavy drops so you know it’s actually raining, not this wafting all around you wet stuff that snow can be. That was weird, very alien.

I was ill for a couple of days following the first day of snow, which meant I avoided going to work in the first heavy snow of the year. In the days before we went to Devon for Christmas I learnt how to walk in snow, the dangers of packed snow and how to avoid ice, why there are grit boxes all over the place and the difference gritting makes (no snow!), that it’s mostly OK to drive in snow. I gained some confidence that living in snow is not all bad (as opposed to previous experiences of visiting snow, when I knew I was going home in a couple of days).

Snow falls silently. Not like most weather where you hear it and know what you’re in for the next morning. You wake up to a blanket of snow (like I did this morning) and have to adjust.

Snow also makes everything quieter, muffles everyday sounds. Except walking, which goes crunch, crunch, crunch, sliiiiide, stamp, stamp, stamp. Going outside in snow in the middle of the day is fun. Walking to work is less fun. Although if you’re one of the first people to walk up your street after a snowfall, then it’s quite pretty.

Snow means preparation, in case of potential heavy falls. Where do you put your car if you need to get out in the morning? (as my friend Poki had to determine last night as he had a flight this morning and lives at the top of a hill). Will your transport be cancelled meaning you can’t get to work? (I took files home last night in case I needed to work from home). You keep an eye on transport sites in case it closes down and you can’t get home.

Snow doesn’t go away when the clouds disappear. This is perhaps the strangest thing, conceptually, for me. I have no idea when snow will disappear and things will go back to normal. Even two days of sun won’t necessarily make it melt, if it’s thick enough. Although the trodden down packed ice is more likely to have re-frozen and be very slippery.

Finally snow is delicately pretty, which I wasn’t expecting either. So while snow is weird and a bit disturbing and I don’t quite yet trust it, I’m sure that soon I will like it quite a bit. An edge of that appeared this morning. I was enchanted by the morning walk, looking at the snow on the walls and the footprints that cats or squirrels have made in the new snow.

I’ve been rather sick for the last week. First was a head cold that I caught from Jed. Overall rather mild, didn’t need to take time off work, but still sniffles and fuzzy headed not as good as being well.

Then on Thursday I spent the day in bed (and the neighbouring bathroom) with a stomach bug. Thankfully it was a 24 hour bug, but my stomach has been very delicate since. Eating has been problematic, with my energy spiking and crashing ever since whenever I eat (or don’t for too long). Not very fun, but I’ve had this happen before and know what to watch out for.  Hopefully it will even out while we’re in Devon and in time for Christmas. Being fed regularly might help, rather than the ad hoc eating patterns Jed and I have on weekends.

The interview last Wednesday, so you can all stop crossing fingers, etc. The  job was quite similar to the one that I had in Sydney, that I enjoyed immensely. I walked away from the interview thinking it had gone reasonably well. Felt I’d stated my case as a desirable employee, my knowledge of waste infrastructure projects and experience in case managing them, and that I’d built a rapport with the Chief Operating Officer. As long as I was what they were looking for then I’d be fine.

I received an email on Thursday stating that I’d not been successful. In the midst of being sick this didn’t really register, but since then I’ve been feeling a quite lost and despondent. Not sure where I belong or what I’m doing or where to go from here. Income is not an issue (yet) as my current employers keep renewing my contract. But, it is increasingly apparent that the team I’m working for does not fit my workstyle. Almost detrimental to my confidence and sanity in many ways. I need something else. But if it’s not a job with London’s Waste and Recycling Board then I’m a bit lost where my skills and knowledge are needed, where I should be targeting. What to do as a small fish in a large pond.

I’ve been feeling this very strong urge to run back to Sydney (and take Jed with me) and beg DECC for a job again, for the security and stability I had in Sydney. If only this was feasible. Perhaps I need to learn to live with a modicum of uncertainty and instability?

They’ve invited me to call to discuss the decision, which I will do on Monday (if there’s time after the drive to Devon) or Tuesday. I’d really like to know the basis for the decision, if there’s something I’m overlooking during interviews, or whether it was simply that there were more qualified candidates that pipped me to the post.

Right then, HOUSE

We’re mostly settled in, still a couple of boxes to be unpacked, but mostly these are books that need a home on the bookshelves rather than anything important.

We’ve been furniture and house shopping, a lot. IKEA is next to a stop on the tram line that runs from the top of our street, and Croydon is a major shopping centre, which is both a blessing and a curse. Our landlady has told us to make the place our home, as long as we patch up the walls when we leave. So we’ve bought some lamp covers, a rug for the backdoor, other sundries to replace things that were left in Redhill, or were just nice.

We have a bed for L, which she helped to choose. It has 4 drawers under it for her things. Thankfully she’s going through the “I don’t want/like pink!” phase, so we didn’t have to discuss why the pink one would be a bad idea. We also got her a quilt and some sheets. So, a much happier L. Well, she will be when she sleeps in it.

We’ve ordered a couch (sofa), a real one. Not a hand-me-down. Not a foam one with removable covers. Not someone’s street-side discard. Not a futon converted into a couch. A real one. Red fabric, 2-3 seater. Jus fits into our tiny living room. It arrives in early feb. In the meantime we have a nest of sofa cushions, beanbags and blankets which is providing a reclining space.

We’ve worked out how to use the oven, which has no symbols on it. Only burnt two dinners in the process. We got the landlord’s son (who lives next door) to fix the shower head and the door in the bedroom. We don’t have the TV connected yet, so there’s been lots of rewatching of DVDs. It’s been cold as we were trying to work out the thermostat, so lots of snuggling in bed.

The only downside is the the house has a “condensation” problem. Read: rising damp (I think). This means that all corners on external walls develop condensation on them during the day unless we leave the extractor fans on. Within 2 weeks we have had mould growing on some walls. We have inherited a dehumidifier from upstairs which pulled half it’s capacity out of the air in the bedroom in one 12 hour period. There was mould growing on the seals in the washing machine – although I gave it a good clean today and an outlet was blocked with a bandaid, so this may be unrelated to the condensation – The landlady is aware of the problem, and has surveyors coming over sometime soon to look at the corners of the building. Jed has noticed a blocked downpipe which might be dumping the water under the house. Who knows, whichever way the ABC’s Spotless series has come in handy in the last week. Oil of cloves will be applied when we get back from Christmas in Devon.

The local area reminds me a lot of Marrickville. Wide(ish) streets, 1930s semi-detached houses intermixed with low-rise flats. Partially paved gardens, a strong ethnic minority presence. Occasional clusters of shops, including a small and friendly cafe at the end of the street. There’s a tram that runs the length of the Borough connecting the outlying suburbs with the centre, with the aforementioned shops,  and one of the main train stations between London and Brighton. While I don’t quite feel at home yet (it takes me a month or so to feel at home in a new place after moving so often in my adult life) there’s definite potential for this to be a house and area I’m happy in. Much more so than Redhill, for all Surrey’s leafy greeness.

Jed loves it, he’d not really comprehended how much happier he’d be moving away from Redhill, living with me. He’s realised that part of what he loved about Newtown was about it’s urban nature rather than Newtown specifically.

1. Power plugs in bathrooms – as in there aren’t any, anywhere in that room, except for an electric  shaver plug, which is the wrong voltage for any other appliance. I thought it was just our house, but after checking 8 other rental properties, and asking the (real) estate agent, it seems this is standard.

Gah! I can’t blowdry my hair in the bathroom and not actually disturb my sleeping bf. Can’t blowdry my hair in the bathroom and be able to easily sweep up the hair that falls out.

Why is it that men can have their grooming item in the bathroom where the mirror is, but women can’t? This extends to straighteners, and curlers as well as hair dryers. Why allow one type of electricity and not another?

I’m assuming it’s a health and safety thing, not wanting electric appliances to fall into baths. But, seriously!? Some of the risk averse practices of this country are very confusing to me. (Which reminds me of a conversation I want to have with Poki at some stage, about the difference between a nanny state and a risk averse society, and which comes first, since they’re both in existence here)

 2. Changing power cables – In contrast to the previous item, it seems extremely common and acceptable that people change the power cables on their appliances. Extend their length, shorten them, change the plug type if necessary. Something I’ve never seen anyone do in Australia, except a flatmate who was a trained electrician, nor have I heard anyone discussing it as something they’d do on the weekend.

This seems rather dangerous to me, although I am assured it’s relatively stratightforward.

3. Dogs on trains – all dogs are allowed on trains, not just guide dogs. It’s odd. I sat next to a couple the other day who had their small (yappy-type) dog in the woman’s lap. The dog insisted on attempting to eat the chewing gum under the table. I’ve even seen them on some local buses.

I think this is firmly in the “different” category. I can see issues with the practice, people with dog allergies for instance, but I can also see benefits, being able to take your dog to a large park/forest and give it a chance to run around.

4. Plastic Surgery – It seems to be more accepted and more prevalent here. Whereas in Sydney, I was vaguely aware that some people, somewhere, had plastic surgery, it was no-one I knew. The attitude of the people I hung out with was that it was mostly the middle-aged women who had a certain image to maintain and a disposable income, and why would you put yourself through it. Such a vain thing to do. And more an American thing.

However, here, half the classified sections in the back of fashion magazines are full page ads for plastic surgery clinics, 3-5 pages worth. Which gives me the impression that plastic surgery is more acceptable and more common.

Thinking about it further, perhaps it’s the difference in gender politics between the 2 countries. A number of sources agree with me, that Australia tends to be more gender neutral, you’re worth is judged on your personality, knowledge and competencies, regardless of your gender. This is less of the case here, gender matters, although it’s very difficult to point out to British friends what triggers this. It’s subtle, but I’ve never been so aware of being a woman and the role that I should therefore fulfil and what I am and am not allowed to be and do. This also translates into greater pressure to look good at all times. (NB, British men, particularly those over the age of 40, similarly have much more restricted concept of what it is to be male, and how they should and should not behave, than the Australian men of the same age that I have had dealings with).

Since we don’t have internet at home yet, and work has been busy, I’ve not had much time for internet communication. What spare time I have had has involved research into London’s waste and recycling situation.

Hopefully this should all stabilise out tomorrow.

But first (finally) the weather: Winter has hit. At least the start of it has. After a very mild, quite lovely Autumn it has turned to a cold and rainy winter.

I’m sure you’ve read about the downpour that hit parts of the UK. None of that was near us, it was much further north and west. I don’t think any of it affected Jed’s parents either, as they are rather high up, despite flood warnings in their county.

Nevertheless it has been wet. Reminding me of those horrible wet weeks you get in June in Sydney, where it doesn’t stop raining for days. Where you have to avoid puddles and running water in the streets. Where you will get saturated if you are out in the rain for more than 4 minutes, despite your umbrella. Add to this the cold temperatures, it was reasonably horrible. Thank goodness for central heating.

Luckily there was one clear day in the midst of all this rain, on the day we moved. It was cold, but all our stuff stayed dry, and we warmed up once the lifting and carrying started.

Which brings me to the move. Sheesh! Well, to be fair the move itself went smoothly, thanks in a large part to the help of Poki and DiscoDoris at short notice.Tthe majority of our stuff was into the house at 3.30 in the afternoon, and we had a bed set up in time to sleep.

The sheesh! part is our estate agents. At 5.30 pm on Monday, the day our lease in the Redhill was up and we had to move somewhere, they finally agreed to let us sign the lease so we could move. After a month of miscommunication, loss of paperwork, conflicting information about what would be required, and the most rigorous background check I have ever been through I was about ready to shoot someone when they decided that yes, by statement of savings would be sufficient to give us a 6 month lease in case one of us lost our income. GAH! After I’d been expressly told a week earlier that this was not possible as “I might spend it on a car tomorrow” – OR I might decide having somewhere to live is more important than a car!?

It was horrible, we were facing the possibility of continuning to live in Redhill in a less than ideal situation for another couple of months until I could secure permanent work OR staying in a friend’s spare room for the same period of time, with most of our stuff in boxes.

But now it is all wonderful, (if you ignore the half unpacked boxes in each room).  My kitchen is unpacked, out of the boxes it went into back in January. My plates, and my cutlery, and teatowels, and serving dishes and… yay! The kitchen itself is slim, and doesn’t have loads of storage, but it is lovely, usable and well-lit. You can see what you are washing up. It reminds me a bit of the house in Glenhaven, the one in Chelmsford St and my sister’s former apartment in Chiswick.

The bedroom is very large, almost too large, although I’m sure that will be less of an issue once we have everything in and arranged properly. There’s space for a bed for L, which we’ll be getting soonish. She’ll have the small alcove at the end of the room, which made her smile when I mentioned it. Possibly as it’s obviously a space unto itself, or that she’d been thought of already and included in the plans, or both, or something else. Whichever it’s a better situation for all of us for sleeping.

The bathroom is white, tiled, large and has a proper pressured hot shower with separate taps to control temperature. Not a dial. You don’t realise the things you take for granted until they are gone. My shoulders are telling me every morning how happy they are to be getting proper hot water pressure again. It’s a lot like the bathroom I had the last time I lived in Croydon (albeit in Sydney, not London), which was one of the things I liked about that house.

The living space is enough, not huge, but also not small, and is attached to the kitchen in a sort of open-plan way. It suits us well. There’s a large bay window with a door leading onto the private garden out the back.

All in all, it will do nicely for a while until we’re a lot more stable in other areas of our life and L needs a room to herself when she stays. Photos will follow once there’s no boxes to be part of the shot.

Let the next phase of this adventure commence! It should be a good one.

We’re supposed to be out of our current place in time for an inspection on Wednesday evening.

Currently, we are still waiting the landlord’s permission to move in, as there was a mix up with our guarantor forms going to the estate agent. It sat in her spam folder for 4 days, and it’s taking more than a working day to check the references.

This is cutting it very fine. Almost too fine. The Newtown rental market was never this bad.

Everybody cross fingers. Please.