Hello (from) Hobart!

We’re here!

It was quite the journey. We gained an unexpected stopover in Singapore due to someone me muffing up our flights… and we lost DorkySon’s beloved iPad packed with apps due to someone me forgetting to pick it up after a security screening in Dubai.

But we are really, truly here. How do I know? Well the water is going down the plughole a different way. The crescent of the moon is in the wrong place entirely. And all around me are people saying ‘sick’ and ‘sweet’ and ‘bonza’ when what they really mean is ‘jolly good, old chap’. 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.



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.

Continue reading