The first cool whispers of autumn are in the air, here in Tasmania. My knee-length cosy cardigan has been retrieved from the back of the wardrobe, and those beautiful sunsets are getting noticeably earlier with every evening that passes. Autumn has long been my favourite season, and I can’t wait to see how lovely this island looks when the trees have turned to gold.
Christmas, like pretty much everything else, feels a lot mellower over here. Perhaps it’s because it falls mid-summer rather than mid-winter, so we’re all busy enjoying ourselves outdoors rather than clinging desperately onto the tiny glimmer of warmth and sparkle that tinsel and fairy lights can provide in the depths of a dark British winter.
Whatever the reason, this year feels like we are building a Christmas that fits our life, rather building our life around Christmas. It feels like it might be fun. Maybe even relaxing…
I really hope so. Recently I think we’ve all been feeling like our brains are being stretched in a few too many different directions at once. Continue reading
I had my first wobble this week.
It wasn’t so much an oh-my-goodness-I’ve-moved-to-the-other-side-of-the-world wobble as it was a damn-these-hormones-and-the-long-list-of-things-to-do-and-why-isn’t-there-any-chocolate-in-the-house wobble.
But it was a wobble, nonetheless.
So I did what any self-respecting woman would do in that situation. I drank too much wine, cried a lot and had an early night.
As you would expect, I have been poring over Tasmanian guidebooks for the last few months, trying to get a feel for the place and pick out a few activities for us to do early on. My favourite way of getting to know any new place is just by walking around it and stumbling upon things – so I’m sure that once we’re there this list will be hastily revised – but for now this is what I’m looking forward to.
Fullers Bookshop: My book addiction has already been well documented on this blog. Spending the last two years living in a town with NO BOOKSHOP AT ALL has been painful, and has filled me with near rage every time I’ve walked down the high street. So what a joy it will be to move to a city with a much-loved indie bookshop that holds events and discussion, publishes its own titles, blogs its recommendations and generally does all the good and lovely things that a bookstore should do. Our bank balance is not going to be happy, but I sure am. Continue reading
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 rosella 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.