Six Months In

autumn in Tasmania

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.

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Top things to do when you move to Tasmania

A young boy taking photos of the boats at Hobart waterfront

I have been poring over Tasmanian blogs and guidebooks for the last few months, trying to get a feel for the place and pick out a few activities for us to do in Hobart 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 Hobart where there is 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

The One Where We Move to Tasmania from the UK

A statue of Louis Bernacchi at Hobart waterfront with the text 'Moving to Tasmania from the UK'

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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