G'day cobbers!

Pardon me for having to get something off my chest, but Canadians seem to be the only nation on earth who literally cannot hear the difference between an English person and an Australian one. A day does not go by when I don't get mistaken for an Australian - occasionally a Kiwi but that's usually as a tentative second guess - and I must admit I'm long past being all British and apologetic about it ["I'm so sorry but I'm not, I know we really do sound similar, it's probably because I spent a year in New Zealand blah blah"]. It actually just pisses me off a bit now, though obviously I do still try not to be overly rude to people when they ask (seeing as it's usually when I'm at work). But I mean really? Who do I sound more like: the Queen or Crocodile Dundee?! Every day someone says something like 'Oh I bet you're missing the beaches back home!' To which I'll reply 'Well the beaches in London aren't all that impressive, so no, not particularly.' The other day at work a cocky sort of chap asked me what part of Oz I was from and when I said actually I am English, he said 'Oh. Well, you're close to each other though, aren't you?' A short and somewhat terse geography lesson ensued, in which he seemed totally uninterested.

And I think that's the crux for me. They just don't really care. A large number of North Americans - and yes, I'm lumping the Canadians in with the Americans for a moment - stay in North America, listen to North American music, watch North American telly and films and don't really pay any attention to the outside world. England might as well be next to Australia for all they know or care. And this goes even for the ones who ought to have a bit of a clue - I've had conversations that have started with 'Oh my dad is from England!' and ended with 'I'm not sure where, somewhere near Edinburgh.' It always reminds me of the line in Anchorman where Brian Fantana, while talking about a woman he may or may not have been in love with, claims that she was 'Brazilian, or Chinese, or something weird.'

And something weird is kind of how I feel most days. At work for example, although we all get on very well indeed and have a lot of fun, I'm often the butt of a few gentle jibes about my 'Englishisms'. Usually it's when I use a word or a phrase quite innocently over the radios that causes much hilarity because it's completely unknown here. For example, the other day I described people coming over to the Red Course as coming 'in dribs and drabs' - turns out this is not common parlance over here. When I told another guide that a customer was wearing a 'purple jumper' she looked at me in horror and asked what on earth a 'jumper' was. But the thing is, we've grown up with American telly and films so we already know that they call rubbish 'garbage', a boot a 'trunk', and a bum a 'fanny' (snigger) and so on. We indulge them when they come to England and say 'elevator' or 'flash-light' because we know what they really mean. They, however, may have seen Four Weddings and a Funeral but that hasn't taught them that we call such things a 'lift' and a 'torch' and so it seems to come as a bit of a surprise that we don't use the same words they do. In fact when I told a friend that I was just going to get a torch so we could walk next door, she got all excited that I was going to come back with a huge flaming piece of wood. Bless.

I do not however intend to give up my Englishisms. It is part of my heritage, it's what makes me me, and there's a little piece of me that resents saying I'm going to fill my car up with 'gas', just to make myself understood, because to me it isn't gas (and actually, it isn't a gas at all of course, so they're obviously just being silly). No, I'd rather face the blank looks and find myself having to explain that a saucepan is what we call a pot, and at least I'll be educating people one word at a time.

Musings on blogging

Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear oh dear. I did it again, didn't I? The thing is, even though every time I blog I have every intention of updating more frequently, I don't seem to get round to it anymore. And I blame Facebook.

You see, I meant to blog way back when I got a fantastic pair of winter boots at Wal-Mart. They were on sale at $29 down from $90 and were lovely and warm with a twist: there are figure of 8 sections on the soles that you can flip up and turn around, so that when you replace them you have metal studs on the bottom to grip onto the ice and snow. Not only do they work brilliantly, but soon after I bought them I saw they were reduced further to $19. A few days later they were down to $9 - I complained to customer service and they refunded me $20. So brilliant AND the bargain of a century. But this momentous event passed unblogged.

I meant to blog when a chap got attacked by a bear just a short distance from where I live. It's a new experience for me living somewhere where there are things that kill you. Of course, many people say that I shouldn't be worried about bears since they're terrified of humans and anyway, moose kill more people than bears over here since moose are a) absolutely huge and b) driven insane by hallucinogenic plants they eat. But then again, I heard a moose making moosey noises from my back garden the other day. We regularly have raccoons on our back porch - we've named them Roger and Doug - and I can smell a skunk from where I sit in my lounge, so they must have been around here too. But all this has gone unblogged.

I meant to blog when I started back at Treetop Trekking at the end of May, which is STILL the best job I've ever had. I was worried that I'd had such a good summer there in 2008 that going back could only be a bit of a disappointment, but my worries were unfounded. A great crew still - some people still there or back from before - and I still can't get enough of climbing and zip lining for a living. But it still went unblogged.

And I also meant to blog when I applied to, and have now been accepted, to Ryerson University in Toronto, to take the International Midwifery Pre-Registration Program, which is my gateway to registering as a midwife over here. It'll take 6-9 months, but it turns out I'm eligible for funding from immigration for the course fees and I only have to be in Toronto (or TO as it's often known here) 2 days a fortnight for classes. Applications for the course were already closed at the end of April, but after forwarding a copy of my CV (resume here of course) and my dissertation, they agreed to making an exception for me. The entrance exams had been done already, but they ran them again just for me and I got offered a place. So I start in September and hope to be finished, all being well, in March or thereabouts. But not a dicky bird was heard here on my blog.

And finally my dad has just been over for a last minute visit and it was lovely to see him. He was only here for a week but we managed to cram a fair bit in. We went fishing - he caught his first smallmouth bass which was the biggest fish any of us caught this week - visited various local points of interest including the Big Chute Marine Railway, which is, to use the vernacular, well cool. And in a most unexpected move, I took dad to visit where I work and he actually rode the Big Zip, the 1000ft zip line and, what's more, enjoyed it thoroughly. The pics will no doubt very shortly be up on dad's Flikr account.

But going back to my original point, all these and many many more interesting things that have happened to me have remained unblogged because - and it shames me to say it - they have instead been reduced to pithy one-liners masquerading as my Facebook status updates.

It's hard to deny the power of Facebook, and I'm well and truly in its grip I fully admit. It's just so easy, and so quick to knock off a quick pun or obscure quote which may, or may not, lead to more explanation depending on if anyone asks. I have yet to fall under the Twitter spell - which is of course basically just a series of status updates as far as I can determine - in fact I've completely and totally avoided reading any Twitter at all, primarily because I think I'd probably like it, and since Facebook already takes up more of my time than it should, I want to leave a little bit in my life for eating, sleeping and going to work. But where I used to find myself composing blog posts in my head as events were unfolding, I now find myself thinking up status updates instead. Worse, now I have an iPhone (another major, and unblogged, event) I can update my Facebook on the go as and when I think of an update (though I try very hard not to update it more than once a day, unless something big happens). It's pathetic, isn't it? As though anyone's really that interested! I suppose the same could be said for this blog of course, but I've always maintained that it's really for me, to practice my writing, and for my family now I live so far away, so they can catch up with what I'm up to. With that in mind, this time I am REALLY going to try to spend more time here, and less time there. I promise.

p.s. Hope you like the new look.

Welcome to the world

Many congratulations to Megan - my former midwifery student and lovely Canadian friend - and her husband Craig on the birth of their first daughter, Esme Ruby Dusterhoft. A home waterbirth - of course!

Crossing the Rainbow Bridge

This Rainbow Bridge, however, is not the one leading to Asgard, rather I refer to the bridge over which you must cross to reach the American border at Niagara Falls.

On 1st May Isaac & I drove down, through what can only be described as England-style traffic, to the nearest border crossing to us in order for me to complete my 'landing' as an immigrant. The plan was to get to the border, ask to be 'turned back' so I could go straight back to the Canadian border, complete the paperwork and then spend the night at Niagara Falls to celebrate being newly Canadian. As we queued for the US border I began to get sweaty palms and butterflies and, upon handing over our passports, I explained to the guard that I was there to land. "Park over there, follow the crosswalk to that building take the elevator to the 2nd floor" he told us in a rather perfunctory fashion, and, not wishing to be shot or whatever it is the Americans do to people who do not obey in a timely fashion, we hurried along to do just that. Upon entering the building I realised I had not collected our passports back from the guard and checked this with one of the many other border guards hanging around the building, seemingly without purpose, and he confirmed that was all above board and correct. We took the elevator - sorry lift - to the 2nd floor - which is of course actually the 1st floor - to find ourselves stuffed in a room with around 150 other people, all of whom appeared to be unsure of what they were supposed to be doing there. No one official was available to ask, but a small sign informed us to 'take a seat and wait for our names to be called'. Due to the number of people both sitting and standing we were unable to take a seat but began waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Every so often an official would come to the door and say a name and a country of origin, and another person, couple or family would disappear with them, but the order in which this happened seemed to have no rhyme nor reason. Some people had clearly been waiting for much longer than us, then others who came in behind us were called in almost immediately. After a couple of hours we managed to secure seats and I got chatting to the couple sat next to us. She was English, married to a Canadian, and had had Permanent Residency for a year. They had decided to go over the border to do a spot of shopping and had been sat for over 3 hours waiting for reasons they knew not why (later on, Isaac pointed out that the fact that they were black might have been a factor, something that hadn't even occurred to me.) After 2.5 hours of waiting our names were called and we went in. The officer was brusque but efficient, and asked if I wanted to do this the 'easy way or the fast way'. I said fast please! He said if we paid $6 he'd admit us to the US and we could turn left and left again out of the border station to return immediately to Canada. The alternative was to refuse us entry, but this meant that next time I try to enter the States I'd have to explain WHY I was refused entry, and my many dealings with American customs in the past meant I knew this could only mean trouble. So $6 was paid, we collected our passports and entered America for approximately 30 seconds.

I had expected that it was the Canadian side of the deal, with all the paperwork that needed to be completed, that would take the majority of the time, but not so. On approaching the Canadian border I was greeted by a lovely older officer, who gave me a big smile and, when I explained I was here to land, he exclaimed 'Oh how exciting!' He gave us directions to the office and we went inside. There was no queue so we went straight up to the desk, whereupon a surly faced woman told us we needed to take a seat until we were called up. We sat, and immediately got called up to the same desk by the gentleman next to her! He took my passport and Confirmation of Permanent Residency and said he'd do some paperwork while we sat. A few minutes later we were called back, I signed a couple of bits of paper and was told that everything was done! The only thing left to do was complete a 'Goods to Follow' form, on which I listed everything I could think of (following an agonising mental tour around my garage back home) that I might want to bring over to Canada, which meant that I would be able to import them duty free.

After checking into our hotel, a walk around town, and the procuring of a few pictures of me doing 'Canadian things', we went for dinner and promptly began falling asleep over our ribs, the whole excitement/boredom continuum of the day proving a little too much for us both. And so it happened that, five months to the day since I sent my paperwork, I became a Permanent Resident of Canada.

Drop the dead donkey...

...this is far bigger news. I realise I'm way behind (as usual) on blogging and like to do things (roughly) in order, but I found out this week that my Permanent Residency here in Canada has been granted, which is fabulous news! I checked e-CAS the other day and instead of 'In Process' it said 'Decision Made', which sent my heart racing. In most cases this is good news but occasionally it isn't, so I didn't want to count my chickens...but the following morning I received an email asking for my passport to be sent to the London office so they can issue my visa...hurray!

I hurried down to UPS to courier my passport yesterday, which ended up costing an extortionate $140 to get to London and back! But I suppose it's worth it for the peace of mind and as soon as it's back I can go down to the border to 'land'. Then I'm all done and legal. Phew, what a relief.

Worth the wait

We finally bought a vehicle. The reason it has taken us so long is that, as I mentioned previously, we had fairly disparate lists of desirable vehicular features - I wanted something cheap and economical both to buy and to run, something that was certified and e-tested* for peace of mind and something that was within fairy easy distance for viewing. Isaac wanted a big truck. Or 4x4 at the very least. Everytime he'd look through the Super Shopper (like Loot or Exchange & Mart) and would say 'Hey, there's a Blahdy Blah truck for sale here', I'd immediately google it and shout '15 mpg ain't gonna cut it!' Then I'd find a small car of some sort and say 'Shall we go and look at this?' and Isaac was so uninspired he couldn't even be bothered to answer.

Every week Isaac bought the Super Shopper and every week I'd look through it and think what a waste of money it was. Half the ads didn't say what car they were actually selling, the number was wrong, the price was incorrect or if they were any good they'd gone by the time you bought it on the day it came out. The last time he bought it, I couldn't even be bothered to look at it. I waited a whole week till the new one came out and then had a flick through - a 2001 Kia Sportage listed certified and e-tested for $2750 OBO leapt out at me. I called the number with very low expectations but was amazed to find it still available and the chap sounded very nice indeed. I said I'd chat to Isaac and call him back. It was down in Keswick (here they pronounce the 'w') which is about an hour and a bit away south of us, but then our friend Sarah said she was going down south that weekend and did we want to come? We asked if we could make a detour to Keswick, called the guy and arrangements were made.

I still had low expectations - everything we'd looked at had turned out to be rubbish in one way or another - but as soon as we saw it we both knew we'd found a winner. We drove it - fast, slow, 2WD & 4WD - and found it was a lovely smooth and worrying-noise-free ride. There were a few rust spots around - Ontario salts its roads in winter and it eats cars alive - but nothing Reilly couldn't handle. It had only 187,000kms on the clock and even had all new tyres including the spare - All Terrain ones at that. We offered him $2500, he said yes, and we arranged to pick it up the following Wednesday after the paperwork for the safety and a wheel alignment had been done. Then we went to the mall to celebrate!

So we picked Mia's Kia** up on Wednesday and have driven around pretty much constantly since. The other day we went and drove muddy roads around cottage country - even getting stuck on a muddy trail and having to use our 4WD to get us out - just because we could. Then yesterday I went to visit my cousin Tine, who lives just over an hour away and I really ought to see more often, for a lovely lunch. In fact we've actually managed to put over 700km on it in 3 days. Ha ha ha.

The thing is, in Canada you can't get anywhere without a car. It would take me about an hour to walk to the local shops, so the sense of freedom you have when you have a car is amazing. I know we've been able to borrow Isaac's parents' cars most of the time, but when you ask to borrow someone's car you leave them without one, so you feel like you have to justify your trip. Now I can go anywhere and do anything, with no reason at all! Hurray! She was worth the wait.

*for Brits: the Canadians don't have an MOT equivalent as such but here you have a fairly stringent test that each car has to pass when changing owners called a safety or a certify. It can be done by the seller, in which case they will get more money for the car, or it can be sold 'as is' and done by the buyer, which can be risky. It also needs an emissions test or e-test to make sure it's only mildly damaging the environment.
**we're still working on a name so this will have to do in the meantime.

In Process

One of the most frustrating things about the immigration process is that most of the time, you're totally in the dark as to how things are coming along. The only thing we have to go by is something called e-CAS - or electronic Client Application Status - where you log in using your client number and it gives you a one or two word idea about where your application is up to. It's not updated very often and the information is fairly vague, but when you log on for the hundredth time to find your status has changed, it can be very exciting. For a while now, Isaac's name has had 'Decision Made' next to it, which occurred when they approved him as a sponsor (though we had to wait till they sent us a letter before we discovered what the decision was) and mine has had 'Not Available', since they hadn't started processing my bit yet.

However, after sponsorship was approved the file got forwarded to the London office and today I finally got a status change: 'In Process'. It doesn't say much, but it's amazing how two words can put a smile on your face by confirming that someone, somewhere, has received the file and is doing something with it!

So fingers crossed everyone please, for a swift resolution to this interminable process. Even though I only sent the application in December I've had the paperwork in my hands since November the previous year and have been slowly putting it together and digesting it all since then. Because we ARE a genuine couple, it shouldn't - in theory at least - be that complicated a process but with medicals flying around the world one way and police checks flying the other, plus background checks on me* you just have to hope it all comes together quickly and positively.

*though as a long-confirmed 'good girl' if anything untoward came back I'd eat my hat! My new one that is, which I just finished last night and is probably my current favourite.

Surprises

I'm constantly finding things surprising here in Canada, sometimes in a good way and sometimes in a bad one. For example, I had a poster made for Isaac for his birthday and I've been trying to find those hard plastic things you slide on the top and bottom to hang it up but still keep it in good condition, but such a thing does not seem to exist over here; what's more, they don't use Blu Tack* either, so I'm left wondering what the hell you're supposed to do with posters if you're Canadian! Sellotape - oh no sorry, it's just tape here - seems to be the most oft-suggested option but it's hardly ideal. The search for a viable alternative continues...

Anyway, yesterday I had an example of a good way. We parked in the centre of town to pop into the shops - it costs $1 for an hour so we put 4 quarters in the parking meter and headed off to buy Isaac some shoes. We ended up chatting in the shop for ages to one of Isaac's friends, so when we headed back to the car, we saw a parking attendant writing us out a ticket. Oh no! We legged it over and Isaac said 'So...what if we were just leaving?' Ha ha, yeah right I thought. You know what these f*ckers are like, once they've started with a ticket there's no stopping them. "Well..." he began, "you'd have to put another quarter in the meter." he said. "Okay" said Isaac, and proceeded to do just that while the parking attendant put his book away and walked off, leaving me opened-mouthed, reeling, and only 25c poorer than before.

*in fairness, you CAN get it in a few places, but it's not commonplace at all and most Canadians look at you blankly - or in horror! - when you suggest it.

Take a weird break

I miss these kinds of mags, they always made me feel more normal. If you happen to have a pile you have been meaning to drop off at the doctor's surgery, pop them in the post to me instead and I'll show the Canadians how strange British people really are.

The Beginning

So basically, I've moved to Canada. Temporarily for now, since I'm on a visitor's visa at the moment, but hopefully for good if all goes well with my PR. This is still taking me by surprise a little bit, though obviously I was aware of what I was doing, and it's not like I was drugged by Isaac and dragged back here under protest. But still, the thought that I'm no longer travelling and this is my life now still hits me every so often like it's a whole new idea.

Since we arrived back on Nov 30th it's been all go. I got my PR application in on 1st December, as intended - hurray me. Sadly, there was no snow when we arrived back so the start of the snowboarding season was delayed, but on the plus side it gave Isaac and Reilly to fill a hole at the side of the house and do some off-roading before we got our first big dump. As soon as the ski hills opened we hit the slopes, giving me my first taste of Ontario skiing. We don't have mountains out this way so memories of Sunshine - and even Cardrona - gave way to what can only be described as ski hills. Sorry, ski bumps. Ah well, a season pass, a decent amount of snow and my lovely snowboard and I'm definitely not complaining.

Christmas came round pretty damn fast and it was a bumper haul, that's for sure. On Christmas Eve we went to Isaac's Oma's (German for Grandma) house for the annual gift exchange. This involved everyone bringing one present, up to $50 value, which goes under the tree. Then everyone picks a number out of a Christmas Stocking and whoever gets number 1 goes first in picking any present they like and opening it. The person with number 2 goes next, as is traditionally the way with the numeric system, and they can either open a new present, or they can steal the present that number 1 has, which means number 1 has to take a new present. This goes on, with everyone either taking a new present or stealing anything they fancy from anyone who has gone before. Once all the presents have been opened and everyone has a gift, the numbers are picked again and a second round commences. This is where it gets tactical, with partners, siblings or parents & children ganging up to ensure they keep the best presents for each other. Higher numbers are preferable obviously, because you are less likely to have the present you steal stolen back from you. In the past couple of years, bereft of his sibling and ally Isaac, Reilly has come away from these present exchanges rather short changed, but this year with Imo, Isaac & I all on side, we managed to obtain what we considered the best four presents there - a saw set in a case and set of 12 drinking glasses (Imo); a lazy susan with dip trays and microfleece blanket (Reilly); a slow-cooker (Isaac); an iPod docking station (me). We were made up! It was a fun night and it was nice to finally meet Isaac's dad's side of the family.

Christmas day we had a lovely breakfast and then opened presents here at Imo & Mary Lynn's house - I got a great set of pjs, slippers and the softest greyest dressing gown you ever did see and Isaac & I also got an electric blanket, which is lovely when you live in a place that goes down to stupid-cold. I gave Isaac a t-shirt with some cougars on it, which was supposed to be funny, but he's worn it almost every day since. Then we traipsed over to Reilly's to do a third Christmas there and Isaac opened a gas-powered remote control truck from Reilly and BB guns from me. Boys will be boys...

New Year's Eve was Reilly's birthday but he had to work so Isaac and I went to a friend's house, followed by a party in a garage. I must admit to having a bad day that day, was feeling pretty down what with one thing and another, so I didn't feel thrilled to be going to stand in someone's garage with a ton of very drunk people I didn't know, but I'd offered to be designated driver so I went along anyway. The very first thing I saw was a big fat guy stood outside in the driveway, peeing whilst facing towards us walking up the road. Hmmmm, fat guy's cock, I thought to myself, that's a nice welcome. The same fat guy came bounding up to us not 2 minutes later and he grabbed my hand inbetween his until-very-recently-full hands and begun to shake it vigorously whilst introducing himself. Hmmmm. We headed into the garage whereupon Isaac was immediately targeted by a guy who hadn't seen him for over a year, who elbowed me out of the way to get to him, spilling my coke all down my front. Hmmmm. I started mopping myself up with a tissue when the fat guy from earlier appeared behind me and started dry humping me, shouting 'I don't even KNOW this girl!' in an exuberant fashion. Hmmmm. At this point I decided this party wasn't really for me so I took my leave and quietly waited in the car.* Not my best NYE, but not quite my worst either!

Isaac was offered some work at his cousin's appliance store doing some deliveries so he's been over doing that for the few couple of weeks and I've spent my days either snowboarding, catching up with friends or bits and pieces online, reading or playing Reilly's PS3. I can't work, as I'm currently here on a visitor's visa, so until my PR comes through I'm a bit stuck really, but I'm not complaining as it's been all go for the past couple of years so it's nice to take a bit of a break from constantly travelling and planning.

And talking of my PR application, after a month of waiting, my entire application was returned to me a few days ago. As it turns out, I had misread one small section which asked for 'copy 2 of Section A' and had sent a copy of, not the original 'copy 2 of'. Silly me. In addition to this, the letter they sent with my returned application claimed that I had not sent the passport photos I need with my application, though I knew I had. I was very cross and stomped around complaining that I had to go all the way into town to get more taken, before deciding to go through my application one last time and found the envelope with all my photos in it, hidden inside a different section, where it shouldn't have been. Clearly someone at the Canadian Immigration had popped it in there and then 'lost' them. Grrr. Anyway, I got it all in order again, swapped out the copy of Section A for the original and took it down to resend it at the post office. Which was closed for lunch. Bah. I drove on to the big town near us, Orillia, as I knew that their post office was more likely to be open at lunchtime and spent another $22 sending it Priority Post to make sure it arrived back with the Immigration office as soon as possible. In theory this means they will now make a decision within 7 days of receipt, which is great, but this is only stage 1 of many sadly. This is approving Isaac as a sponsor, which since he's a Canadian citizen, over 18 and not currently bankrupt or in jail, should be fairly straightforward. Once that's done they send it on to the London office where they look at all my stuff, get my NZ police check from Australia, my medical details from another office and do UK background checks on me. Given that I am both a good and a healthy girl, they shouldn't find anything untoward! I'm keeping everything crossed anyway and hoping for a swift resolution.

So we're up to date. We're currently looking for a car/truck**, so we can be more independent, and I'm learning all about what you do with snow, but I'm sure that will come out in future blogs. In the meantime, let's be careful out there....


*I feel compelled to point out that I insisted Isaac stayed and caught up with all his old friends, as best he could given the state most of them were in, and did not make any attempts to cut short the evening in any way. I may not have felt able to join in with the celebrations myself at that point, but I am not a party pooper. So there.
**I'm looking for a car, but Isaac is looking for a truck. I guess whoever finds the best deal first, wins.

The Middle

The trip back to England was always going to be a bit of a hurried affair, trying to cram in visits to as many people as possible, but when my tenants handed in their notice at the end of October, I knew it meant that my 3 ½ weeks in England would be filled with running around trying to get new tenants and making sure the flat was up to scratch, as well as getting all my paperwork in order so I could apply for Permanent Residency as soon as I arrived back in Canada.

Sure enough the time we spent in England felt like a whirlwind and for every friend I managed to catch up with, there was at least one I sadly didn't have time to see. We stayed in Surrey for the first week, picking up a rather lovely Peugeot 308 hire car (1.6 turbo diesel, very nippy, highly recommended) a few days in, and managed to: show my flat to a couple of different people; go through some of the stuff in my garage; show Isaac the Weybridge & Walton locale; spend 8 hours walking around London; go to not one but TWO fireworks displays; meet up with my dad & step-mother, Ellie, Sophie & Dan, Zoe & Phillip, Claire, Rosie, Guy, Chris, Debbie and Jonathan.

London, whilst the dream destination of many a discerning traveller, was not really Isaac's cup of tea. He's not really a city person at all – his mother told me that when he was younger he'd get a headache just driving in their car towards Toronto – but I though he ought to see it, so we took the train into the city. We started off at Borough Market where I bought him a lovely free-range homemade burger, then walked up to St Paul's Cathedral, where we climbed right to the top of the dome, via the amazing Whispering Gallery. Then off to Covent Garden where we saw a string quartet play and looked in one of my favourite T-shirt shops, David & Goliath. Up Neal Street to Shaftesbury Avenue, along to Leicester Square, down to Piccadilly Circus before heading up Regent's Street. Throughout this whole trek, Isaac had maintained a perfect air of complete indifference, seemingly fairly unimpressed by London's environs. However, five little words changed all that: “This is Hamley's Toy Store”. A look of wonderment came over him and he immediately asked where he'd find the Lego – a quick check of the map revealed it was one floor down in the basement. With a hop, skip and a jump he found the escalator and, on arriving at the requisite floor he proceeded to run around like a five year-old on Christmas morning – awww. He found a Lego kit he wanted, one featuring a snowcat, and picked out a remote control truck he'd like too. Only the lack of £450 stopped us sending that one home for him...

All too soon it was time to get on a red London double-decker bus (another must-do for any self-respecting tourist) and head back down to Ludgate Circus, where we were due to meet up with the lovely Guy, Chris, Debbie & Jonathan for dinner. On the way however, we took a slight detour to visit Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese pub, rebuilt in 1667 after the Great Fire of London and still looks pretty much as it did then – flagstone and sawdust on the floor an' all.

One other incident springs to mind from our time in Surrey. On the way back from picking up the hire care in Kingston, we stopped in at my friends' Zoe & Phillip's house, with their children Elliot (5) and Eva (2). Since Zoe, Phillip & I were nattering away nineteen to the dozen, when Elliot asked Isaac the magic words: “Would you like to come and have a look at my Lego?” he leapt at the chance. He took Elliot and Eva into the lounge to play and watch telly while I caught up on the latest gossip. A little later on, it was time for the kids to have their dinner, so when they came back into the kitchen to eat, Elliot brought some Lego with him. At one point he wanted to tell me something about his Lego but had no luck trying to get my attention, since I was still talking excitedly to Zoe, so he lent over to Isaac and asked “What's your mum's name again?” Isaac of course was laughing so hard he could hardly reply. I wasn't in the least bit offended however, since from Elliot's perspective, it was obvious that I was an adult who was chatting to his mum and dad in the kitchen, while my 'son' had come over for a play-date!

The trip up to Yorkshire involved a 3 day stop-over at Suzie's house – Isaac had of course already met Suze and her son Joey, over in New Zealand when they'd come over for Debbie's wedding, along with her ex-husband Simon who had been travelling with them (they're oh so terribly modern). Now however, Isaac also needed to meet Suzie's boyfriend, erm, Simon. We all got on well and it was great to hang out with Joey, who is hilarious.* He's very keen on cars and trucks – much to Isaac's delight – and can already at the age of three identify most of the cars on the road. In fact I was shocked when we stepped outside and he spotted our hire car he immediately said “Oh you have a Peugeot!” Isaac taught him that when you see a car riding on flashy rims, you have to say that it's 'balling on dubs', which he took to with great enthusiasm, though his dad had already taught him to say a car was 'pimping' so I didn't feel too bad. During our stay with Suzie in the Midlands, we visited Warwick Castle, in order to introduce Isaac to the ancient history England has to offer, and followed it by a hellish 2.5 hour journey home in hard rain and horrendous traffic, in order to introduce Isaac to what the Friday rush hour is like in England.

Finally we made it to Yorkshire just in time for a big family dinner for Toni's birthday. Jenny had done slow-roasted pork (Jamie Oliver's recipe) and all the trimmings, which was phenomenally good. Over the next few days we took Isaac into Beverley, over to York - where we totally failed to find a decent cream tea** to have and ended up buying our own in M&S and heading back to Benj's place to eat it - over to Leeds where we visited the German Christmas market and the museum and of course lovely lovely Hull. In between these trips I was frantically trying to find a new tenant for my flat, since my current tenants gave notice just before I returned home, as well as trying to get my paperwork for Permanent Residency (a.k.a. PR***) in Canada completed and organised, all at considerable and increasing stress-levels. We had Jenny's birthday to celebrate too, which involved an ice-skating trip, a visit to the cinema and a large amount of Chinese food,naturally.

Come the last couple of days at Jen's I was sat for 12 hours at a time in the same chair printing off and organising my PR application. It was horrible, but worth it as I was able to get it into good order ready to send as soon as we arrived back to Canada. Then we drove back down to Surrey in time to see my tenants out of the flat and spent the next couple of days living at the flat and getting a few things up to scratch - new vacuum, new ironing board, sealant around windows, fitting a new light and repairing an old one, new loo seat and a damn good clean all round - you know the kind of deal. I thought I'd found some new tenants who were keen but long story short a credit check and closer examination of circumstances revealed a very bad risk and we had to let them go, which meant I was heading back with no tenants lined up - very worrying. Thank God for my sister and my dad who were on hand to take over the search - I really can't say thank you enough guys! Quick final catch up with Sophie, Dan & Ellie, then come November 30th Dad drove us to the airport to catch our flight back to Canada. We were flying Air India, which fo some reason was the cheapest flight from London to Toronto - go figure - and had the best inflight food (though worst inflight entertainment) I've ever had on an aeroplane. But then you know how I feel about curry....


*Recently he'd turned to Suzie, apropos nothing, and said “Want respect? Use a condom!”
**and by decent, I mean clotted cream, not whipped, and plain scones, none of this horrible fruit rubbish.
***which is quite funny if you're a midwife, nurse or doctor, since this means 'per rectum'.

The End

I was reminded recently, by an avid reader of my blog (hello Oma!), that my New Zealand story lacked an ending – so here to correct that, before I go on to tell you all about England and Canada, is my round up of NZ:

I spent a year living like a hippy in a campervan with a gorgeous man; going where we pleased, settling down for a while when we liked a spot, moving on where we didn't. The van was cool as bro, and we worked nice casual jobs, none too taxing, taking advantage of everything New Zealand had to offer. We black water rafted, we Zorbed, we kayaked, we street luged, we tramped, we jet boated, we snowboarded indoors and out, we quad biked, we flying foxed, we hot pooled, we WWOOFed, we fished rivers and ocean and we sheared sheep. We saw hot boiling mud and sulphurous pools, we drove spectacular coastline, we saw beautiful mountains and amazing beaches. We saw old friends, and we met new ones. We had an incredibly hot summer when it should have been winter, and a fairly chilly winter when it should have been summer; we had a BBQ on Christmas Day and snowboarded on my birthday. We spent time lazing by rivers listening to Harry Potter audio books, watched power boat & off-roading competitions, tore down and cut up trees, blagged a whole campsite to ourselves and watched 4WD DVDs and movies a-plenty on my laptop. We saw kiwi birds, eels, wekas, wetas, penguins, albatross and glow-worms. We ate fish and chips on the beach. We were verbally abused by an old French man. We visited my first lap dancing club.

We learnt how to pick different varieties of apple, and learnt that we never ever wanted to do that again. We learnt how grapes were harvested for wine and what happens to them next. We learnt how to run a ski resort without computers, and how to do the banking for the whole mountain. We learnt that I hate sea-bound boats. We learnt that Isaac can't drink with the big boys. We learnt what an earthquake feels like. We learnt that mince & cheese is a surprisingly good pie filling. We learnt that the Kiwis don't know how to insulate or heat their houses. We learnt how to turn a campervan into a mobile disco.

We learnt what camping long-term entails and exactly what you need to survive comfortably. We hope we made things easier for the people we sold the van to, and we hope they're enjoying her as much as we did. We discovered that we were well-suited to living in a confined space together, and realised that other people might not make such good living companions. We found out what we missed when we were away from home and we planned what we were going to do in the future.

So all in all, our time in New Zealand was exactly what we hoped it would be. The country is spectacularly beautiful, as we hoped it would be, and the people are lovely. It is laid-back and remote; fun and exciting; friendly and relaxing. But would I live there?

The short answer has to be no. There were a whole heap of little things, insignificant on their own, which combine to tell me that I would be frustrated if I lived in New Zealand. It's very very far away, for one. I mean, Australia is big and brash enough that it can cope with being so far from everything else, but gentle little New Zealand feels very isolated, like no one else knows you're there, and if they do, they don't care about what happens to you. This is the very thing that makes it an appealing destination for many, but I don't think it's for me. Everything, especially food and electronics, seems very expensive over there – strange considering its proximity to Asia – and it wasn't easy to live on minimum wage and still pay for rent and groceries every week, let alone the odd treat. Television was largely rubbish and the internet is, as previously discussed many times, very expensive and v-e-r-y s-l-o-w which makes keeping in contact with home a frustrating experience. The houses, on the whole, are poorly insulated and very few have central heating, relying instead on plug-in oil radiators and the like which aren't always terribly effective and can bump up the electric bills to ridiculous proportions – I worked with a girl whose previous job was for the electric company, calling customers when their bills reached $1000 for the month to warn them, not an uncommon occurrence. Anyway, enough of the negatives.

That said, I wouldn't change anything about the last year – it was truly awesome. I couldn't have wished for a better travelling companion than Isaac, a better van than Jaffa, and for more amazing friends to visit and stay with; a huge thank you to Jude & Glynn, Big John Redcorn, Ben & Colanne, Sally, Ian & Debbie, all the Heaphys, Josie & Becky, Boz & Wendy, Justine & Barry, Jemma & Ron.

Down to the wire...

We managed to pack everything up and say a very sad farewell to our lovely flat in Wanaka. We spent a couple of weeks travelling north towards Auckland. We stopped along the way at Christchurch - visiting my friend Boz who worked with me at Cardrona and his girlfriend Wendy - then up to Kaikoura, where we stayed once more with Justine & Barry on their sheep farm. It was lambing time recently and they had an unprecedented amount of triplets, so Justine had 11 lambs she was hand-rearing; they were adorable. They also had 3 calves, Trevor, Bolt, and BJ. BJ, incidentally, got her name because, as a premature calf, she had a habit of suckling on anything she could find - and the thing she could find most often was Trevor's...*ahem* appendage.

Then it was up to Picton to meet up with Josie once more, and we took the ferry over to Wellington. Campsites are few and far between in Wellington so we ended up staying in a cheap hostel which was a bit on the grotty side, and went out for a spectacular Thai meal in the evening. The following day, after a wander round Wellington and a visit to the Te Papa museum, we headed to Palmerston North, which was really just a convenient stopping point - there's nothing to speak of in Palmerston North, it's really just a student town and reminded me rather of Slough. The next day we arrived in Okahune and met up with our friend Andrew, who I lived with in Banff, who had been working at the local ski hill up there as a freestyle coach, and who'd had a chance to come and ride with us down at Cardrona on a couple of occasions and was now heading back to Banff again. From Okahune we drove to Rotarua - a.k.a. Rotavegas - to introduce Josie to street luge and Zorbing. Okay, just to do it again ourselves really, since it was such fun the first time, and that was AAAAGES ago. Everyso often I like to remind us that we're here to enjoy ourselves.

So now we're back here in Auckland. We've been staying here with the lovely Jude & Glynn, who are putting up with us littering their home with our belongings very well indeed I must say. We've had a couple of tasks to complete while we were here, the first and most important of which was selling Jaffa.

I've loved that van since the first moment I saw her. She's been our transport, our home and our most identifying feature for our whole trip and the thought of selling her was awful. Still, it had to be done (we'd considered shipping her back to Canada - but the cost was astronomical!) so we put the sales pitch in motion. We'd sent Jaffa 'for sale' promos ahead for Jude to put up in the hospital where she and Glynn work, and we'd had a few nibbles, even someone who came to see it when we first arrived in Auckland, though as an older couple I wasn't sure it was going to be their kinda thing. We decided to take it down to the Ellerslie Car Market on Sunday morning and in the meantime I put her details on every backpacker message boards I could think of. We got her stripped down and cleaned every little bit, inside and out. We washed the seats, brushed down the carpet and oiled her creaky joints. We reorganised the inside and made her look as lovely as possible. I got some new material and made two new curtains - front and back - since these were the only ones I hadn't replaced in when we were Nelson. She looked lovely. On Sunday morning we got up early, as entrance for sellers opened at 8am, and the market opened at 9am. We arrived around 8.25am and the very moment we parked up, before we'd had a chance to complete our seller's paperwork, we had a couple of people wander over. They were followed by 2 or 3 others, and an American couple who almost immediately asked if they could take it for a test drive. So, only minutes after we'd pulled in, we pulled out again while I took Charlie, a very excited guy from Oregon, through the finer points of the console gear shift. They clearly liked it enormously, and kept going on about how much nicer it was than the other van they'd looked at. We got back and they asked how much we'd take for it. We'd listed her at $4000 - we paid $3500 if you remember orginally - and the couple offered us $3500. I said we'd need to talk about it but yet another couple came up to look round. I gave them the spiele, but the American couple stood nearby looking nervous the whole time. Eventually Isaac took me aside to discuss their offer. Considering the amount of interest we were already generating - and a quick glance around at the competition seemed to explain why, since no one else had bothered to make their vans look nice and presentable so Jaffa stood out a shiny mile - we could have held out for $4000 for sure. However, I wanted to take a price that made us feel good, and also made the other couple as though they'd got a bargain. So I said if they'd give us $3750 now, we'd sell it to them, or they could wait until the end of the market and if it still wasn't sold, we'd sell it to them for $3500. Instantly they went for the $3750 - even foregoing having a mechanical check done because they trusted us! The fools...haha. SOLD...all by 8.45am, 15 mins before the market even opened! We took them into Auckland CBD to get the money out and ended up parking, quite by coincidence, outside the Base hostel where we'd been staying when we met Jaffa for the first time - in the exact same place. Weird. The money was handed over and we drove the couple to the posh suburb of Ponsonby in order to practice driving her. We took 'goodbye' pictures and walked away with tears in our eyes... End of an era.

We had a walk down to the Karangahape Road, whose name is so unpronounceable it's known colloquially as the K' Road, as I had a treat booked for the afternoon. For ages now I've wanted to do a photoshoot, something a little on the risque side, just so one day I can look back and say 'I had an alright body once!' I'd come across an advert for Miss T Pinups a while back and thought it looked just the ticket - particularly since they promise to photoshop you to buggery haha - so I'd booked it up. I arrived at the studio and had my hair and make up done. I won't say too much about it (just in case they're awful!), but I should get them in the next week or so, so I'll post them then for your perusal.

My final task in Auckland was to have a medical done. I need one for Canadian immigration, and it's much cheaper to do it here than to do it in the UK (around £110 over £350) and as long as it was with a Canadian Immigration Designated Medical Practitioner, it was all good. So I had that and it went very well indeed so that's another thing down towards my Permanent Residency application...phew.

So now we've packed out things, put together another box to send back to Canada and we're just knocking around with Jude & Glynn enjoying the start of summer, before we head back to 4 weeks of drizzle followed by several months of snow. Good news is, we've got season passes for our local ski hill, Mount St Louis Moonstone, so the plan for ski bumming is still going ahead!

They think it's all over...

...it is now.

Both Cardrona and Treble Cone closed on Sunday. A few days prior to that we had our friend Josie, one of the Canadian girls we met grape picking, come to stay and we did an epic 3 resorts in 2 days stint - Cardi on Tuesday, Snowpark Tuesday night and Treble Cone on Wednesday - and, after literally lying down on the run at the end of the day at TC vowing I couldn't continue, I thought my season was over. I didn't even bother to bring my board back up to work on Thursday but then Saturday brought a big dump*, as is often the way just before close, and I had to get out on something and make the most of it, so I borrowed some skis and went out with Mark, Roland and Stacey for a ride break. We managed three runs and they were probably the best three runs of my season. The snow was amazing, which - no offence NZ - is pretty unusual out here and we found some great drop-ins which were untouched, so we touched them. Oh how we touched them. Naturally we all fell over left right and centre, but that's what a powder day is all about. At one point Roland fell over, and I was laughing so much at him I went over myself, only to find I was now laughing so hard I couldn't get up again. I looked up to see Mark and Stacey laughing at us, causing both of them to wipe out too. Full house! I went out on skis again on closing day, which was not quite as epic, but I did find one totally fresh slope above the halfpipe, so I stood at the top and yelled "I CLAIM THIS HILL AS MINE!" before dropping in. Lovely. It was great to be back on skis again by the way, thus proving to myself that I enjoy both skiing and snowboarding as much as each other in different ways.

On closing day we also decided to have breakfast at the Mezz Cafe, the 'posh' restaurant at Cardi, and just before heading over there I popped my camera in my pocket saying to Lisa 'Just in case Shaun White's in there - you never know!' On arrival at the Mezz, I spotted Shaun White sitting at the next table. Okay, okay, I did know he was up that day, so it wasn't totally random, but still. In case you're not aware, Shaun White is basically the coolest pro snowboarder in the world, and won the Burton Open this year with back-to-back double corked 10s, the first ever in competition, and is probably the only pro snowboarder I'd spot a mile off. The mane of bright red hair helps! But this guy was on the front cover of Rolling Stone magazine for goodness' sake - he's a bona fide cross-over star. Well, seeing him sat there with his coach at the table next to us I just had to say something, particularly with it being our last day an' all, so I went over and apologised for interrupting him, and for being totally lame, to which he immediately replied 'No, no, not at all! Did you want a picture? I don't mind at all, really!' He leapt up and put his arm around me while Stacey took my camera. Afterwards I sat with him and had a nice chat about me learning to snowboard, and about how seeing snowboarding tricks on the telly is a totally different experience to seeing it happen right there in front of you. Eventually I thanked him again and went back to my table to eat my pancakes while he laced up his boots ready to go out and hit the pipe. What a very lovely chap indeed.

Lie in Monday morning, of course, and then off to Ron & Jemma's in the afternoon for a BBQ and a spot of fishing. Ron has a rod, and property that extends down to the river, but has only fished once or twice before, never actually catching anything. Isaac knew there was fish to be had, and had not yet caught anything over here in NZ, so they went out just before dusk with Ron & Jem's son Andrew, to see what they could find. They came back with two trout of pretty damn good sizes! One brown trout, one rainbow. They were duly gutted and arrangements were made for us to come back the following evening to eat the one Isaac had caught - needless to say it was delicious!

So now it's all about packing. It's all pretty overwhelming I'll be honest, we seem to have accumulated so much stuff, as tends to be the way of these things, and we've already got one box to post home to Canada alongside our bags. Whilst we are quite looking forward to being back in Jaffa, and certainly looking forward to heading home after so long away, we're really really going to miss our lovely flat here in Wanaka, not to mention having our own loo and standing headroom. But we leave here tomorrow, amble our way back up to Auckland to stay with Jude & Glynn before flying to the UK on 2nd November. We want to be down in Surrey/London for a week or so to catch up with friends & family before hiring a car and heading up north - although so far we've not been able to find anywhere to stay down south, as everyone is full! So no idea where we'll be - email me with any offers?!

*of snow, of course




Latest pics here

My Life is Average

For those of you who are fans of FML, I bring you MLIA...

(thanks for this link Liddi, I love it)

More of the same

Yes yes, once again I have been slack in my blogging. My main excuse is that it's all been more of the same, we got to work, come home, watch a film/tv show and go to bed, and get up again the next morning to go to work...blah blah blah. I will, however, fill you in on the latest with my snowboarding, which is coming along very nicely.

I am in general a helluva lot more confident on my board and yes, I can finally say that I absolutely LOVE snowboarding. It's taken me a while to get to this stage - far longer than I was expecting - but somewhere around my last post it all just clicked and since then it's only got better. Before, I found everything hard work on a board, from cat tracks to chair lifts, and longed to be back on two planks. Well the mileage I've put in has paid off, and now I no longer look at skiers with envy at all. That's not to say I don't want to ski anymore - in fact I'm determined to have one more day skiing before we close - it's just that I feel like every time I go out on my board I improve a little bit more, feel that little bit more comfortable, can ride slightly harder terrain, and it's rather addictive.

After spotting a poster at work and signing up immediately, last Wednesday I had a freestyle lesson. Freestyle, for those of you who don't ski or ride, is all the tricksy things you do on skis or a board; jumping, spinning, riding rails and so on. I had already ridden a couple of boxes in our 'baby' park, and felt I needed a hand getting my confidence up to try something more, so this was just the ticket. It was only $25 (organised for staff) and given that only my friend Stacey & I were in the beginner's lesson it was basically a 3 hour private, which is worth $355 to a punter! We had Pierre, a Belgian instructor, teaching us and it was amazing. I'll be honest, I ended up chickening out of the boxes in the Big Boy's park (aarrggh the pressure!) but by the end of the three hours I had ridden the baby boxes several times, got some good air off a small jump (previously one of my biggest fears), learnt to ride switch (this means riding the opposite way round to the way you normally ride, so since I'm left-foot forward, known as 'regular' or 'natural', I was riding 'goofy', which is right foot forward. It feels very weird), perfected my spins (not spinning while jumping, just pirouetting on the snow) and learnt to do 180s (where you jump from facing one way, to facing the other, hence 180 degrees). All in all a very productive and enjoyable three hours. Whilst I don't think I'll ever be a park rat, with their oversized clothing and fearless tricks, it's nice to know you can do something a bit more interesting than just sliding downhill, you know?

Following on from that, the following day we had Interdepartmental Games at Cardrona, and I was 'persuaded' to take part in the relay race. It involved running on slush from the courtyard to the bottom of McDougalls chairlift, getting on and then coming down a steep and icy front onto a gentler slope, racing back to the archway to send your next team member off to do the same. Not too bad then, if you forget to factor in that there are 6 other teams competing and they were all very VERY fast skiers and snowboarders, who were taking it all very seriously. I was lucky, by the time I ambled down we were so behind I was pretty much alone but it was honestly one of the more terrifying experiences of my entire life. We lost, hopelessly, but since I managed not to vomit on the chairlift through sheer nerves coupled with physical exertion, I considered that a win. I have vowed that in future, skiing and snowboarding is for fun and my fun alone.

The only other thing that is occupying nearly all of my time at the moment is my Permanent Residency application for Canada. It's so much more than just a form, it's a huge document where we've had to basically lay our lives bare for the Immigration Officers to judge us. The fact that we ARE a genuine couple means that it should all be fairly easy, but sadly it doesn't seem to work that way. Our main problem is that we spent the first 6 months here living in a Toyota Hiace, and though you (and I) might argue that this is a far tougher test of a relationship that sharing a flat together, whether it counts towards my immigration application is a moot point. Still, I've determined to press on, putting together a bundle of emails between Isaac & I, birthday cards to each other, our tenancy agreement, joint van ownership/insurance docs, joint bank account statements, a ton of photos, statements from family and friends saying they know about, and are supportive of, our relationship and much much more, including a comprehensive list of EVERY campsite, hostel or house we stayed in during our first 6 months here. That took a while I can tell you. That, along with every address I've lived at and every job or period of unemployment I've had since the age of 18 - leaving NO GAPS whatsoever - has been a challenge. That's not to mention the application costs! But little by little I'm chipping away at the work load (and using work while I can for photocopying and printing, naturally) so the plan is by the time I arrive in Canada, I can literally send it all off the next day. I hope that it'll be so comprehensive that they'll have no choice but to say yes! The whole process of course will take around 6 months to complete (maybe less but very possibly more), during which time I can't work legally in Canada, unless of course I get a temporary work visa separately, which I plan to try to do. It's all a bit of a nightmare, but it will be worth it in the end...

Crappy taxidermy

In lieu of a proper post, I give you this. Aren't I nice?

All coming together

For the past week or so I've had the cough/cold from hell; I've been very worried that it was going to develop into bronchitis like in Banff but I think - hope? - that today I'm over the worst. However, I did have today off work due to 3 nights in a row with hardly any sleep due to constant hacking. I did actually get up this morning and put my uniform on, but when Isaac came into the bedroom to find me sat on the bed crying due to sheer exhaustion, he wisely advised me that I probably wasn't going to be much use at work. I called in sick, which I hate doing because I'm always paranoid that they'll think I'm lying, and then tried to go back to sleep for a bit, which I managed to do, albeit on and off, till nearly 1pm. A day sat on the sofa watching Amelie and playing on the internet ensued and I definitely noticed that my cough has decreased in its ferocity a little, so I'm hoping tonight won't be so bad.

Tuesday and Wednesday are our days off, and this Tuesday, as I was feeling very rough, we spent the day at home doing much needed things like washing and cleaning. Whoop de doo. Come Wednesday, one more sleepless night down, I really wanted to just take it easy again but it was a bluebird day, I hadn't been on my board for 2 weeks, the NZ Freeski competition was on at Cardrona AND I didn't want to cheat Isaac out of a day on the snow, so come late morning I dosed myself up, and sucked it up Buttercup.

I had been flicking through a book a couple of days before in the bookshop called "Great Outdoor Adventures: An Extreme Guide to the Best Outdoor Pursuits" by the fabulous Bear Grylls. In it, whilst talking about skiing, he advises against being over-cautious, since this tends to over-ride the natural instincts and abilities that confidence affords you. Certainly in both skiing and snowboarding I've found that whenever I think 'Uh-oh, I don't think I'm going to make this!', invariably I don't. So with this in mind, and boyed by a dream I'd had the night before in which I was a really good snowboarder, I decided that today, I could do this. Sure enough, I found myself following Isaac onto terrain that previously I'd have avoided - too steep, too bumpy - and killing it. I threw yet more caution to the wind and upped my speed and realised it had all clicked! In sheer joy I followed Isaac off a small jump and landed it!* By the end of the day I found myself on our mini-bordercross course** riding the rollers and banked corners with ease. Hurray! Now I can't wait to get on my board again. My pesky coffee hand still waves around like crazy without my knowledge or permission, but at least I feel like I can now get to work on such small things. I may only have achieved mediocrity, but I embrace it like an old friend.

*it was a very small jump. And I got a very small amount of air. But still.
**okay okay it's called the Family Fun Park or something and I know 10 year olds are probably therefore supposed to be able to do it but I would still have avoided it on a board in the past...

It's never too late to start...

...though you might not finish.

Two planks and Jaffa with no juice

Isaac didn't win anything at the party - our friend Pat won a go at parasailing and Naomi won a heli skiing trip, which would be absolutely super if Naomi could ski well enough (she's a newbie) - and he came home complaining that he didn't like alcohol after all, but I think he had a good enough time.

I went skiing today with Isaac and Pat! Well they were snowboarding, but the visibility was virtually nil and I didn't want to spend the day falling over so I hired some nice skis - K2 Silencers - from our rentals department and had a brilliant day. It felt so good to get some speed up without panicking, so nice to be able to absorb whatever came up underfoot, even if I couldn't see it, and amazing to be able to rip down the blacks. It reminded me just how much I loved being on the snow, and how much fun it can be. I will carry on with my snowboarding, and I know I'll get better the more miles I do, but it's nice to know I can take time out of being a rookie and feel confident again.

We've had a bit of a run of bad luck with Jaffa though - the other night we went to start her up and she was dead as a dodo. Fortunately our friend Mark was over so he gave us a jump start and we drove around for half an hour or so before returning to our flat, switched it off and went to start it again - dead again. So yesterday morning I called the AA* - this being a small town, it was the same (English) guy who 'jumped me' a few weeks ago, as it were, when I had to replace one of the battery terminals. We got her started and we drove around for half an hour or so before going down to the AA garage to have the battery tested. It hadn't been doing its homework. We paid for a new battery to be fitted and went off, broke but happy.

Today she started first time and Isaac, Pat & I drove up to Cardrona. We parked at the bottom of the access road and hitched up with a crazy British lady who drove like The Stig. We had our stella afternoon and hitched back down the hill. I got a ride first, with a father & daughter from Brisbane, leaving Isaac & Pat to find another ride, and when I reached the bottom I went to get into Jaffa - there was a funny buzzing noise coming from the dashboard. I turned the key and there was nothing. Not a sausage, though the buzzing noise stopped. I turned the key back, the buzzing noise came back. Damn! I thought I'd call the AA again quickly, because the sooner I called the sooner they'd be there. I made the call but as I was talking to the woman who answered, I saw that by some bizarre coincidence, the AA van, with the same guy driving, was coming down the hill - I literally ran out in front of his car to get him to stop, and told the woman that the AA man was already there! He gave us another jump (I'm exhausted) and told us that the buzzing noise was one of the relays, which might need some attention, and might be what was draining the battery. I called up to work and told them I wouldn't be in early because I had to take Jaffa to the doctor's and got back in to drive off. I looked down and realised that the lights were on....yes I'd left the bloody lights on. What an idiot. Thank goodness for the AA! So hopefully she'll behave from now on.

*the Automobile Association, a breakdown service. Not Alcoholics Anonymous, who wouldn't necessarily know to bring jump leads.