September 2009

Travellers and Pikes

29 September 2009

I was talking to a woman in the playground about the schools around town and she mentioned that it was a good thing our kids didn’t go to this other school because it was full of travellers’ children. Thinking ‘travelling salesmen’ I wondered what the problem was. After all, considering this is the fourth country I’ve lived in, you could say I was a traveller, of sorts. She explained laughingly that a traveller was a pike (pik -ee), a family of no fixed abode who have a reputation for causing trouble. ‘Like gypsies’ I asked. ‘Yes, but they’re not of Romany origin’ she replied.  Read more... (500 words, estimated 2:00 mins reading time)

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Every where you go you always take the weather with you

28 September 2009
The weather is a BIG subject in England. I thought it was a big subject in New Zealand until I arrived here and realised that its the common denominator underpinning 99.98% of the conversations here. You could be standing next to a studded, safety-pinned punk with purple contact lenses and a f-u jacket at the bus stop and you could still chat about the weather! That’s not to say of course that the weather in NZ is great either. Lets face it the majority of immigrants to the Sunshine Coast or Gold Coast in Australia are there because they’re following the sun. New Zealand’s not painted green. It rains. Sometimes quite a lot as the poor flooded farmers in the Wairapapa could tell you. The big difference between Auckland and Hampshire is a matter of degrees. Though August/September in Auckland is undoubtedly one of the most miserable times with relentless persistent drizzle at least it blows too, so there’s a bit of drama. Nothing like a decent gale whipping the sea up. Summer, when it arrives in Auckland can be long, hot and humid. I like the heat. I grew up in Fiji so for me the heat is comfortably familiar. We lived near St Heliers beach in Auckland and weren’t blessed with a pool so heading down to Kohimarama or St Heliers to cool off became a delicious pleasure. Last year at Easter time it was still 22 deg C at 7pm when the dog and I did our run and panting and dripping with sweat we tossed ourselves into the waves. Happy days! Its bittersweet remembering bbqs that linger into the hot night and fish n chips on the beach with friends and a bottle of wine.

No beaches here. No BBQs either. Partly because of the weather I suspect. England doesn’t seem to have embraced the whole eating outside trend. In seasons like Spring and Autumn (and Summer of course) when the temperatures are very much the same as northern NZ they could extend their indoor/outdoor living by simply putting an umbrella up and some patio  chairs. I wonder why they don’t tend to?  Read more... (678 words, 1 image, estimated 2:43 mins reading time)

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A watched pot never boils

23 September 2009

Don’t you love cliches!? I do. I don’t know what half of them mean really, and it is annoyingly easily to fall into the trap of using them to explain a situation. I’m in the watched pot situation right now. Still waiting for the visas to return from Her Maj, but alas the post-person has been and gone and left only love-letters from the bank through the door. No pot boiling. Can you cheat it? If you pretend you’re not watching and just sneakily take peaks, will it boil anyway?  Read more... (554 words, estimated 2:13 mins reading time)

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The Back Story – a reminder

17 September 2009

As I’m gallavanting around Stratford upon Avon I’m delving into the archives to pull out some of the earliest blog posts I wrote about our story.

I hope you enjoy them -

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Originally posted September 2009

I should probably explain how I ended up on this late OE aged 40 with three children, dog, cat and everything we own. I think a quick brief back story is required. So here tis……  Read more... (804 words, estimated 3:13 mins reading time)

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Waiting… waiting ……waiting

16 September 2009

The nice people at the Home Office said it would be ten days before they got the visas back to us. Times that by 3 in reality. Still waiting. This whole year has been about waiting. In one form or another I’ve been waiting for at least seven months and all that time I’ve been unable to work. I think this is the Border Agency’s latest ploy. If they lose our documents then maybe prospective immigrants will just give up, or run out of money. Either way maybe they’ll just put their tails between their legs and head home. That’s what the spinster cat-loving representative said at the hearing. “Why don’t you all just go back to New Zealand!” There is the simple matter of course of my English husband’s right to live and work here and to be joined by his new family. Waiting, waiting, waiting. There’s no telephone number to call. I think ringing MI5 would be easier frankly. The Home Office advised me to send a letter by special delivery to enquire as to the status of our passports. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d suggested a homing pigeon. Is there a reason why this is so very difficult? And I thought NZ bureaucracy was bad. Does anyone know how to get a quicker response? Or how to not go broke whilst waiting?

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Personna Non Grata – Immigrants in Britain

8 September 2009

I may be highly strung, but sometimes I get the impression that the UK doesn’t really want any more immigrants from Down Under. It’s just a gut feeling I have. They don’t have a ‘Sod Off’ sign illuminated above the Arrivals board at Heathrow, but I just get that inkling that the Home Office, if not the Brits themselves would be quite content to put one up. Maybe it’s the two aisles in the arrival hall at Terminal 4 – one for Brits/EU and the other for Others! ‘What about all those lamb chops and pounds of fresh butter’, I whined quietly to myself as I shuffled through the stalls.  Read more... (892 words, estimated 3:34 mins reading time)

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