Calm down mum, there is no baby. At least not that I know of. Or at the very least that I’m admitting to. If anybody comes knocking at your door, you don’t know where I am. You think I could pay both Sydney rent AND child support?!? And don’t you think you currently have enough grandchildren?
|Photo credit: Classical Beaver|
No, the “9 month” of the title refers to the month that I’m now entering as a Yorkshire Expat in Sydney. Yes, I don’t know where it’s gone either. Did I really leave the UK all those months ago? Evidently I did, yet would struggle to describe how I have filled those months. Without, of course, recourse to these blogs. Maybe I should do that one quiet night, get a(nother) bottle of wine in and recall what I’ve been up to.
It’s been quite an emotional few weeks, for one reason or another. Not withstanding the running out of Manchego cheese, counter balanced by finding an amazing Chilean pinot noir to drown my sorrows, the major event this month has seen me saying goodbyes. When I was in the process for coming out here, a work colleague was counting down the days til he left Blighty, for these shores, on a 12 month working holiday visa. And we were more colleagues than mates. Sharing the Yorkshire love, we met up in my first week in Sydney and over the intervening months we have forged a really strong friendship. Alas, the sands of time on his visa expired and he has now returned to the UK. I’m keeping my eyes on the Nando’s share price as I expect it will be the thing that will suffer most.
In traditional fashion we had his leaving drinks. And boy, can he put away his liquor. Decamped in Paradiso bar near work, at Darling Harbour, we were on the cinnamon whisky shots at about 16.30, followed not long after by Patrone shots. Some drink I had never heard of. Don’t worry, I was told, it’s only tequila based. Oh, that will be ok then! A great night was had. I think. It went by in a flash. Or, as I tried to recount the day after, a series of flashbacks. Shots…beers…friends…taxis…chicken tikka roll kebabs (seriously, you have to try this Neutral Bay speciality)…friend’s irate neighbours…wine…walks…international phone calls…unconscious. In that order. I think.
I had a more sedate meeting this week. Catching up over coffee with somebody I haven’t seen for a long time. About 20 years she reliably informs me. Really? I was young then. And had dark hair. Moving out here last year we figured it was time we met up finally. And we had a great catch up, chatting like we had last seen each other only the other week. Us Yorkshire expats have to stick together.
On another topic, I seem to remember I had written about homesickness recently. The “elephant in the room”. So on that, I must pass on a heartfelt thanks to all my UK based friends. Thank you all for knocking any residual homesickness out of me with all your arctic “spring” pictures. I may be suffering in the unseasonal Autumnal heat, yet don’t have to contend with being snowed in and having my life disrupted as seems to happen with increasing frequency at home. Be careful what you wish for is an adage close to this pom’s heart. I just hope the snow has cleared by June.
At the time of writing this, I have the long Easter weekend ahead of me. I think I’ll make another trip up to the Blue Mountains. I went over Christmas when a friend was over from UK, and we couldn’t have picked a worse day. The train ride itself was trying enough, with a very annoying little lad shouting “are we there yet” at every station. On a 2 hour journey. I kid you not.
And when we got there it was a proverbial pea souper. Probably even worse, a mushed pea souper. Not a mountain or a eucalyptus tree in sight. Anywhere. We had to buy a postcard just so I could prove to her that the “3 Sisters” mountain range does in fact exist.
|Photo credit: environment.nsw.gov.au|
Hopefully, this time around, I’ll get a better day. You’ll find out next month. Until then, hasta la vista chicos.