Hello Again

When I left London, I promised someone that I would keep writing. I have managed to break that promise spectacularly well, apologies to Mr.C.

Life got in the way. Life, and being knocked sideways by unexpected homesickness. Homesickness did not feel the way I thought homesickness would. Quite frankly, I felt heartbroken. Absolutely heartbroken. It wasn't until I read something about ambiguous loss that I had a light bulb moment and all the things I had been feeling clicked in to place.

The way I got over it was to cut myself off from all my UK friends on Twitter, avoid seeing or reading anything about London and to slowly build up some sort of life here in Australia. I was lucky enough that when I felt able to connect again, people were still willing to give me a chance. I still get pangs when I see a picture of a sunset over The Ladder, or Alexandra Palace, or another London landmark; but it no longer makes me ridiculously sad.

On paper, my life is the Australian dream. I've retrained as a nurse. We own a house. With a pool, and a Labrador. We even own a canoe, and go camping. Actual camping. Sam takes himself to school independently  every day. He's a Sea Scout. The kids play Minkey (Mini Hockey) on a Saturday. We have camp fires in the garden, and cook damper & melt marshmallows. I wouldn't call it The Lucky Country for everyone, but I'm doing OK here; mainly because I'm not poor or an asylum seeker. Politically here, everything has shifted radically right, which when I am fairly left can be hard to stomach. I've never been anywhere which is so casually racist. Not everyone obviously, but it feels much more obvious here. I've also never lived somewhere so White. Coming from Tottenham this is an eyeopener. It's different in the bigger cities or the backpacker towns, but it's something I feel really aware of.

Life in Australia is different. Good and bad different. Of course I've managed to end up 2hrs away from the sea, we can get down to -7 at night, and oh sweet something I've never lived anywhere with so many roundabouts or crazier drivers. However, I've started to love it. I like being able to see mountains where ever I am. I like Australians. For the most part. I'm still a Londoner, but for the moment, finally, Australia is home.

The fat lady sang.

So.  It's over.  The fat (I'm 11st & 5'2.5in, I'm allowed to call myself fat!) lady has sung and I've left choir. There were tears and cake and cuddles and then vodka and actually 'goodbye' was not as hard or as painful as I thought it would be.

I first heard Tottenham Community Choir at the Green Lanes Food Festival.  They sang 'I'll Be There', and I cried. Proper tears.  And every time we've sung it since I've cried.  I've also laughed a lot.  A lot.  In fact I've spent most of my time trying not to laugh.  The most memorable moment being when I took a deep breath in and instead of a clear pure note out came a proper LOUD burp.  That was it.  I had the giggles for the rest of the warm up.

I've only been singing with them for 6 months but it did feel like I had been singing with them for ever.  I loved singing with them.  I loved my section.  I loved my ladies on the front row (and several lovelies from other sections).  I liked belonging to something.  I liked having fun.  I liked doing something with other people. I liked being part of a choir.  As a section you move together, you fit in to the bigger picture.  Like a community.  You work hard.  Together.  You tweak what's not quite working.  The stronger voices lead and the other voices blend in until you can't hear the difference.  No one is left behind. 

The choir gave me an excuse to get out of the house once a week & talk to actual grownups.  It gave me friends. It gave me my voice back and for that I can't thank them enough.  So, here's to you Tottenham Community Choir, I think you're bloody brilliant and my Tuesday nights will be duller without you in them.
I hope sometimes you'll think about the gobby, giggly alto who sat on the front row, smile & have some fun because that's what I wanted to bring to choir & I hope I've left some behind. 

A London Bucket List - Things wot I have done.

1. Scoop the jackpot on the Salisbury Pub Quiz as suggested by @LizIxer - Well, we tried but unlike last time didn't manage to reach the dizzying heights of second place let alone the jackpot.  I did enjoy a good gossip with a couple of my favourite local folk so not an entirely wasted evening.  Plus the vodka hit me on the way home which fuelled a visit to Sams Chicken & a dirty chicken fest & giggles with @bear_faced_lady & Mr BF who had been babysitting for me.


2.   Scott Exhibition at the NHM - Brilliant. Got whizzed round it by a small person so didn't feel I got value for money but really interesting.  He was more interested in the shop...


3.  Lunch at the V&A - Had a rather nice roast dinner in the main dining room which is a stunning place to have your lunch in. Don't forget to look up. It wasn't too busy but getting there for just before noon is best if you want a nice table and less queue.  This was followed by an impromptu paddle outside in the gardens, well small person paddled I played photographer. 

Never can say goodbye

I keep avoiding writing this. In fact I started writing this months ago. I'm known for being an over sharer so this might sound strange but talking about actual feelings, I am rubbish at. Really rubbish at.
I couldn't give a monkeys if you know my bra size, or how many people I've slept with or that I own a Princess Leia slave girl outfit or that I have IBS & talk about farting a lot. A lot. None of that really means anything.  It's just a fact. Like porcupines can float in water. That's a fact. I think. I digress.

I have also managed to write a paragraph and avoid talking about what 'this' is.

'This' being how I actually feel about the prospect of leaving London for good within the next 2 months.  I think I have felt everything there is to feel and seem to have come to a stop at, well, 'resigned'.  I don't know if that counts as a feeling but it pretty much sums it up.  I've been sad, happy, hopeful and downright terrified.

I am going to Australia.  I am moving my whole life including two children to Australia because my husband (who is an Australian) has a job in Australia now.  Well, I say now, he has been out there since September.  We only got married in June, so we didn't manage 3 months in the same country.  He has missed anniversaries, birthdays, Christmas day, everyday kind of days.  I've missed him.

The boy had his last day at school today. We wanted him to leave at the end of a term rather than half way through, plus it means his place can go to someone who can start at the beginning of next term.
Next week is my last week at choir because I need to concentrate on packing up the house & getting ready for the move.                                                                                                                                            The week after that is my last day at work because I want to spend time with my family before we go.

I can't say goodbye. I can't do it. I don't want to do it. I don't want to have the same conversation with every person I know on the fringes of my life. There doesn't feel a need for it. The world is smaller now. Twitter, email, skype. Those who want to can keep in touch and those who don't, don't have to. I've said hello & goodbye to the same parents at the school gate for 18 months now but I don't feel the need to say a 'proper' goodbye to them. Doesn't mean that I don't like them or that I'm not grateful for what they've done for me or the kids, I just don't want to do the 'goodbye'. It feels forced.

I don't want to have the same conversation with the people on the centre stage of my life either. I don't know how to say goodbye to my Gramma, knowing that I probably won't see her again. I don't know how to say goodbye to the people who have propped me up the last 6 months & kept me putting one foot in front of the other. I don't know how to say goodbye to my parents because I speak to them every day. I can't. I don't have the words.

I don't want a leaving do.* I don't want a fuss**. I don't want to say goodbye. I want to spend time with the people I like making some nice memories & then I want to leave. So please don't hold that against me. It's not personal, it's just how I feel.

My life at the moment seems full of 'lasts', but then at some point I guess the firsts start coming along and that's worth sticking around for.  I hope it is.

* Going to the pub with choir people doesn't count, we do that anyway. There will be dirty chicken.                                                                                                                                                 **wouldn't say no to a hipflask mind you. £3 in Tiger ;)

A London Bucket List...'Maybe you can come too...'

I am going to write something a bit more personal about my feelings concerning my impending eviction from London/UK/Civilisation but right now I want suggestions. More specifically I want your (whoever the hell you are who actually reads this) suggestions of Things Wot To Do Before Leaving London.

I'll consider anything and pretty much will do anything (as long as it is legal!) and I will write about each experience as I go along but of course will only name you if you let me.  Anything to do with food is definitely a plus!

So if you were getting exiled from London; Where would you go? What would you do? Who/What would you see?

Thanks :D

UPDATED (again 24/03/2012):

Some ideas from Twitter - Scoop the jackpot on the Salisbury Pub Quiz.  Walk along the South Bank. Visit a deserted Canary Wharf. Visit a  far away tube stop. Visit the Freud Museum. Take the Ferry Crossing between the Tates. Ride a Boris Bike. Eat at the Japan Centre. Go see a West End play. £4 Bellinis at the Champagne Bar. Steak & cocktails at MeatPeople. Hockney Exhibition. Scott Exhibition at NHM. Lunch at the V&A.

I still want more ideas (esp for food & cocktails!) and people to do them with and preferably kid free.

My beautiful boy.

I am a mother.

I have been a mother for over 6 years.  I am a mother twice over.  Yet, I am a different mother to each one of my children.  Each one needs me in a different way.  I feel I love each of my children equally but differently. My second child is 'easy'.  Younger, less complicated, less demanding, 'easy'.  My first; always a challenge, complicated, demanding, hard bloody work sometimes.

I find it hard.

He is my boy.  He is handsome, changeable, bright, stubborn, funny and defiant.  He likes lego and kung fu and music and dancing and Michael Jackson.  He has big dreams.

He finds life hard.  He has often found life so hard that he has wished his life would end.  He is 6.  If you want to know what your heart breaking feels like listen to a child tell you that they are stupid and wish they were dead.  I don't have the words to describe it.  He is not stupid.  He looks at his friends and he knows he is different.  He knows that he finds things hard that seem to be as easy as breathing for others.  He is 6.

Today, he went for a private assessment at a Dyslexia Centre and lo and behold, he has dyslexia, mild dyspraxia and ADHD.  He also has appalling short term memory. "Appalling" really was the word used.  It really is in one ear and straight out the other.  He is also above average intelligence and very bright.

I feel relieved.  I feel guilty.  I feel sad.  I feel angry.  I feel stupid for feeling so many things.

School were quite happy to just carry on labeling him as badly behaved without trying to find out the why.  There is not enough money in the pot to test all the kids that need testing.  There is not enough money to help all the kids that need help.  I know that.  I just wonder how bad things would have had to have got for him.  I wonder how bad he would have ended up feeling about himself before someone else spoke up for him, because for years it has felt like no one was listening.

I am fiercely in his corner and I always will be.  I have always known life was hard for him, I just didn't know why and I didn't know how to help make it better, but now I do.  And I will help make it better, because I think that sums up motherhood for me, whatever their age, whatever happens I am always going to want to help make it better.

I love my son.