Monday 18th August 2008
The last snapshot of my home - St Helier's Bay, Auckland
The last few days have been interesting. Like ‘chinese curse’, interesting. The High Commission couldn’t grant entry clearance without seeing the work permit. Bit of a problem as the work permit was in Sheffield and the immigration wankers wouldn’t pass it over until my Englishman had paid the final bill.
Sigh.
We left the motel where we’ve been waiting for the past four weeks to fly out, and headed back out to Kohi to wait. I changed the Singapore Airlines flights for the tenth time, knowing that if we didn’t get out on the 18th there are no seats on any flights for at least three weeks.
Liar the immigration consultant lied. Again. She’d told us that the permit hadn’t been approved yet it was done and dusted on the 13th, she was hanging onto it until she got paid.
Bitch! All that distress she caused.
On Saturday I took the kids out to Botany Downs and got our £’s. Woohoo, funny money! Then invited Secret Agent over for dinner at Not Domestic Goddesses’ place. A nice evening. Good friends, good wine, good food. A real sense of leaving. We are leaving here and not coming back.
Secret Agent told me he wanted what I have.
‘That absolute ‘have to be with you’ love that you have for your Englishman’.
I hope he finds it too. A chapter closes. A crazy single life finishes. Sometimes crazy, sometimes sad, sometimes really quite drunk and disorderly. Rediscovering myself at thirty eight. Learning to survive and to lead this little family of mine. I’m off to England to have my second chance at relationship bliss and happy ever after.
I channelled Florence Nightingale and sent Secret Agent to sleep it off on the couch, to dream of a leading lady that he loves absolutely. I rang my Englishman in England. He was hassled. He’s stripping wallpaper and painting and hoping to get it all done before the girls arrive and need their room. He is a sweetie redecorating for us. He’s even picked out purple curtains.
Oh My God! How is he going to cope with a ready made teenage family?
Tanya from Singapore Airlines has just rung. We have seats on tonight’s midnight flight. Now I just need the passports back from Wellington on the courier. So is this it? Are we off? Can’t think about it because it hurts and scares me a little.
Later
Somewhat incredibly we’re at the departure gate. No excess baggage to pay. Amazing!
I raced out to the airport through rush hour traffic and picked up the passports at 4.30 then took Non Domestic Goddess and her dear daughter out to De Fontein in Mission Bay for a last supper of mussels and beer. Dark Princess and Miss Ten are very excited, but Son is withdrawn.
It doesn’t feel real yet.
We’ve been homeless and living out of a suitcase for four weeks. All that money on motel bills and junk food and desparate flights to Wellington to see the British High Commission. Not a good start to our new life. I need to start earning as soon as I can to help rebuild the savings stash.
It’s been such a long journey to this point. Sad to be leaving friends, and the familiarity of Auckland. Boarding soon I think..
The babies are going on!!
Am I doing the right thing? Dragging us all to England.
Fretful.
19th August inflight
An hour until we land in Singapore. Not a bad flight so far. Quite smooth though I didn’t really get much sleep. It’s a bit bumpy as we start descending into Singapore. Are there aerial judder bars around Singapore? It’s always bumpy around here.
As the plane lumbered down the runway and prepared to take off I started to cry. I tried to hide it from Miss Ten. She was too busy with the excitement of it all! They’re got Pokemon on the entertainment systems! She’s sorted. Son’s laconic. Or buttoned down, not sure which. He threw an empty bottle of water away in the customs hall and I dressed him down severely, explaining that if the security people have any suspicion at all that they’ll investigate without mercy. Their investigation of every orifice will not be pleasant, but it will be thorough. He settled down after that.
It’s a big deal leaving on my own with the kids. I feel brave. Or mad. Perhaps both.
I miss Bailey and Stella and wonder how they’re doing. I worry a bit about how quickly the car will sell. Will I manage the job ok or let everyone down? How will it be working in England? Can I do that pitch presentation in London next week without having a heart attack from stress overload? Worried a bit about my Englishman. How will everyone get on? It will be interesting for him, having three kids move in.
Will he be thrilled to see me as we’ve longed for over the past few months?
It feels like an experiment and it shouldn’t. I shouldn’t be making experiments with our lives.
One of the hard things is feeling that it’s our home and not that we’re staying at my Englishman’s place. Absolutely no hope of buying another place right now, and I wonder if renting a separate place for the kids and I might work out best. Truth is, I just have to relax and wait and see. Right now I cannot wait to be in my own bed in the funny little room overlooking the oak trees in Hampshire. Lying in my Englishman’s arms knowing I don’t have to fret about my darling kids because they’re safely with us too.
A new chapter begins.
Why then, am I crying? Stupid cow.
Are they tears of hope, joy or pain?
All of the above.
Bittersweet confusion.
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