When I shared our big news last week, I mentioned that we’re trying to spend as much time as possible visiting family and friends this summer. We started with our wonderful trip to Harris at the end of June, and I said at the time it was one of the best weeks DorkySon had ever had. That remains true, but after the fortnight that we’ve just spent in the States I think we’ve got another holiday to add to the list of favourites. Continue reading
We are moving house again. Not a little move, but a big one.
We are moving from the UK to Tasmania.
Yikes.
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I can tell you the exact moment that I made my decision.
It was a beautiful sunny day. I was sitting on a bench in a playpark, the sun on my face, drinking a cup of tea and making easy conversation with another mum – someone I’d met all of forty minutes earlier. Her young son was gurgling contentedly on a picnic blanket at her feet, while mine had just jumped off the slide and was running up a small hill towards the swings, when suddenly he stopped and shouted.
‘Mummy! Mummy! Come and look at this! It’s a parrot! Lots of parrots!’
I walked towards him, and sure enough, there were five or six brightly coloured rosellas walking around, squawking and pecking at the grass.
DorkySon was enthralled, and something flicked in my head at that moment.
Yes, I said to myself. Yes. We can do this. We can move to Tasmania.
And so we are.
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There are few things that make me happier than sharing guest posts on the blog, and especially so when it’s a post from someone I’m a big fan of myself. Michelle at The American Resident is one of my very favourite bloggers. An American living in the UK, dealing with all things expat, she is a wonderful, evocative and honest writer, whose posts on her own blog have moved me to tears of both joy and sadness in the past. In person, she is an irresistibly charming mix of introversion, big warm smiles and blue hair dye. If you love her writing as much as I do, please do pop over to her blog, or at the very least say hello on Twitter.
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I watched from the platform while my daughter and her granddad found their seats on the train. Then the frustrating minute of waving, smiling, holding back tears, and waving some more, wishing the train would Just Go, now that she was beyond One Last Hug for the next two weeks. Then slowly the train began to move. I waved again, trying to look cheerful, sending her happiness vibes. Have fun but be safe, my smile said. She returned a blissfully carefree smile of excitement. She loves her visits to the grandparents, hours spent at the local stables, no pressure, no demands to empty the dishwasher, ‘but you must help out, even if they don’t ask.’ ‘I know mum. I do.’ Continue reading
Imagine, for a moment, that you are a four-year-old boy. Imagine that your favourite things to do are playing with your cars and trucks, spending time with your family, and running around outside to burn off all that energy that you have. Then imagine that you can go on holiday for a week and do all those things, every single day.
Lucky old DorkySon has just had one of the best weeks of his life up on Harris. It is always a pleasure to spend time back on the island that was my childhood home. It is one of those places where the pace of life is slower, where there are only imperceptible changes from year to year, and where I am always greeted like an old friend. It’s an even bigger pleasure for me now to watch DorkySon enjoy the same simple things that I did as a wee girl.
