How soon is now?

A while back Andy and I made a very big decision (VBD). It's one we have toyed with for a few years but we never got to the point of taking action. We toed (how DO you spell that?) we froed, (?) we changed our minds. But, eventually the VBD was made. We are moving back to the UK. Tomorrow.

We meant to come to Australia for four years and accidentally stayed 11. Something about the laid back lifestyle and the amazing fauna and flora grabbed us and held us here. But more than that, the people who became our friends kept us here - not against our will I should add, that would be weird.  

No, my friends (I'm switching to just my friends now, it's my blog and all that) kept me here with their kindness, their conversation and their insight. I've lost count of the number of D&Ms we've had over the years. We've shared plenty of laughs too, book club in particular was a source of great joy for me. Sometimes we even talked about the book. 

I sit here, the night before my flight and realise I've had my last bookclub/stitch n bitch/breakfast/brunch/morning tea/lunch/afternoon tea/dinner with my friends. We've shared our last baby shower, our last kids' birthday party, our last (rare) weekend away, our last milestone event. If not forever then for many years at least. I am bereft.

So often, a big part of happiness is dealing with loss. You meet people, they bring you joy (and you them, hopefully) and then you lose them one way or another. It's heartbreaking but heartwarming too. In the words of the eminently sensible Winnie the Pooh: "How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."

And they are not really lost. We'll keep in touch and we'll meet again - here, there or somewhere in between. 

I am a firm believer that when one door closes another one opens and one of the gifts of leaving Australia is being able to reconnect with friends and family in the UK and Europe. I'm looking forward to the conversations and the catch ups, they're a wonderful bunch. 

I love the UK as much as I love Australia (how lucky I am) and there's lots of exploring to do - castles, woodlands (complete with hedgehogs and squirrels!) country pubs, up-to-date episodes of all my favourite TV programmes and Sainsburys/Waitrose/Tesco/Marks & Spencer Food Hall to name but a few. Plus we'll get to fly to Europe again without having to sell a kidney, hooray! 

As sad as I am to leave this place, I'm excited too. I'm ready for change. It's time to embrace this next stage in our lives as a family and as individuals.

So here I am, going not "back to England" but forward to England. I may have lived there before, but this is a new adventure.

Happiness is a toffee apple

I know, it's been ages. Don't be cross.

There is much to tell and I need to write a proper post but in the meantime, I'm going to bribe you with some sticky toffee apples, just in time for Halloween.

Sticky apples (recipe swiped directly from Frankie's brilliant Sweet Treats book)

Ingredients

8 small red apples, washed and air-dried
2 cups caster sugar
1/2 cup water
1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar
1 teaspoon red food
colouring
8 wooden sticks

Makes 8 apples

Line a baking tray with baking paper. Spear a stick into each apple about 2/3 of the way in. Check to see they go in straight.

Over low heat, cook sugar and water in a medium saucepan. Stir until sugar has dissolved and then bring to boil without stirring. (To prevent sugar crystallising, brush down sides of pan with a wet pastry brush).
Add food colouring and cream of tartar and give it a stir.

Reduce heat to low and simmer mixture for 20 minutes or until it reaches 150°C (hard-crack stage). Take off the heat immediately.

When toffee ceases bubbling, dip each apple into the toffee. You can coat an apple evenly by tipping the pan on an angle. Make sure you get lots of sticky stuff around the top of the stick, so it doesn’t fall out when you hold it.

Put all sticky apples on to baking trays and set at room temperature. They’ll set in about 30 minutes.

Best eaten straight away, but you can store them in an airtight container in a cool, dry place for up to 24 hours.

You autocomplete me

Why can’t I own a Canadian? A fair question if you’re a Google search prompt. Starting a search “why does…” will ensure you are interrupted with sensible and self-affirming autocompletes including ‘why does my cat lick me?’ and ‘why does everyone hate me?’ The question marks are mine; Google seems to prefer the more rhetorical approach.

Official documentation explains: “as you type a search query into the new toolbar’s search box, you’ll see a list of useful suggestions based on popular Google searches, spelling corrections and your own toolbar search history and bookmarks.” Hey man, don’t blame me and my search history for this shit; I have not been hanging out in the small hours exploring raspy-tongue-loving Canadians. Also, your definition of ‘useful’ differs wildly from mine.

As a record of the zeitgeist, search prompts are an interesting, if a little disturbing, cultural snapshot. While some are reassuring; ‘is it illegal… to seek asylum in Australia,’ answer: no (but well done for finding out for yourself rather than believing all the tripe on Facebook). Others reveal factoids you just wouldn’t have known you needed; “is it illegal… to be fat in Japan,’ answer: yes the government imposed a maximum waistline size for anyone aged over forty: 85 centimeters for men and 90 centimeters for women.

And then there are the WTF moments ‘why do… velociraptors throw bananas’ which is not only an anachronism (velociraptors pre-dating bananas by about 70 million years) and a physical impossibility (non-rotating wrists) but also particularly disturbing for those who wanted to know why do birds suddenly appear, just because, you are near?

We might want to cut the search engine a bit of slack however; serious research (by which I mean Googling then hitting the ‘I feel lucky’ button) has revealed that it answers more than one billion questions each day - a heavy workload even for an American multinational corporation specialising in internet-related services and products.

Then of course there’s the fact that many, many internet users are smoking crack while they type. Close to two thousand people a month search for information on how to get away with murder (and with one thousand per month searching on how to hide a dead body, we’ve got to assume Google had a helpful reply). Cat dating and ‘how to make my cat love me’ are searched hundreds of times each month while eighteen thousand people each month want to know why men have nipples. What does this say about us? Are we really anatomically- interested murderous cat lovers?

It can be disquieting to realise just how much of our lives Google has squirreled away for future reference; some of the prompts are frighteningly accurate such as ‘what time… does Centrelink open’ (don’t judge). But it’s fun too, addictive even. Searches such as ‘I like to…’, ‘is it wrong to…’ and ‘why can’t I…’ throw up some stupendous suggestions and many a happy hour is to be whiled away on the resulting paths through internetland.

Just don’t try typing ‘what would happen if…’ Or anything to do with fracking.

What a way to make a living

It’s Monday again. How do you feel about that? I hope this post finds you content in your career and rewarded in your role. But what if it doesn’t? What if you woke up dreading your day, feeling anxious or just plain bored of the daily grind? Can you actually DO anything about it without burning all of your belongings and running off to live on a Kibbutz? Or, only marginally less radically, going back to study and eating nothing but baked beans and instant noodles for three years straight while learning to enjoy wine in a box?

The answer is yes. You can.

Not too long ago, I made a decision to change direction career-wise. I was afraid of failing, of the financial impact of not working towards a "proper" career and of putting myself out there. I did it anyway, holding my breath all the way. Today, I sit at my desk, forging my "patchwork" career, made up of things I am good at and things I enjoy. It feels amazing to be creating the life I want and to be genuinely doing more of what makes me happy. I did not do it without some small changes, a leap of faith, a little luck and a lot of hard work. But it can be done.

I used to wonder who those people were who did jobs that they loved. It seemed impossible for me then. Watching Escape to the Country or Location Location Location (don’t judge, that stuff is addictive!) I would fair seethe with envy at those people who declared “Oh, I work from home and can live anywhere.” What did these people do for jobs? How did they pay the mortgage? What was their secret? It’s not fair; I want to be free to work anywhere. Harrumph.

Then, one day, I decided to do something about it. My “secret” was to start doing something towards my dream job before I left the old one. In my case that dream was freelance writing and I began by starting this blog. It was incredibly nerve-wracking to offer myself and my words to an unseen reader, knowing that I may get shot down in flames. But I had to try, I couldn’t even begin to dream of writing without actually writing (who’d have guessed) and I needed to be accountable.

My big leap of faith came when I stopped working on my PhD. It was heartbreakingly hard in some ways and breathtakingly easy in others. With my newfound time and lack of guilt (never underestimate the weight of guilt, holding you back) I put myself out there, offering my experience in marketing and PR and scoring some great, ongoing work with wonderful clients. Next came a piece of slightly-engineered luck in the form of a job offer to write for Vintage Caravan Magazine. I say engineered because I sent the editor a link to my blog (having mentioned her fabulous publication in a blog post), she read it and offered me a job. I got lucky, I know that, but without the first small step of my blog, that opportunity could not have presented itself.

Recently I pushed myself again and took a course in writing for magazines and newspapers which gave me the confidence to pitch my article ideas to editors. I sit here today working on a commissioned piece and reflecting upon the journey I took to get here.

It’s not over of course, I need to work hard to keep getting published and to turn writing into my “proper job”. I’m not there yet. But I’m a damn sight closer for having tried.

So maybe today could be the day you start the change in your life. I know it’s hard, when family and money and responsibilities are all massive considerations. But is there something small you could do in your daily life that would be a step towards your dream job? Could you volunteer to do something at work that is more in keeping with the role you want? Sign up for a short course online, just to test the water? Offer your services to somebody already in the field you’d like to join?

Take a little leap of faith and who knows, Mondays may never be the same again.

 

Judgemental much?

I was just in the park, looking at my mobile phone when I felt a pair of disapproving eyes upon me. I looked up to see a fully paid-up member of the knit-your-own-tampon brigade giving me a dirty look. I instantly knew she had decided I was one of those "prefers social media to her kids" people you see on Facebook. I feared I would appear, in all my texting glory, on a page somewhere while the postee primly admonished us all to put down our phones and focus on our children - they are not little for long!*

 

I was outraged. My children's father is fighting in Iraq and I was simply setting up FaceTime so that he could enjoy the vision of our three year old descending the slide. That's not true of course; Andy is in the CBD having very important meetings where lots of people talk in acronyms (TIA) while he thinks about sandwiches.

BUT SHE DIDNT KNOW THAT!

 

 

That's the thing about being judgemental; you don't usually know what it is you're actually judging. Appearances can be deceptive, our own prejudices and failings colour our opinions and anyway who put us in charge of society?

In my role as Empress of the known (and unknown) universe I can be incredibly judgemental. I do it with gusto sometimes (like when I saw a woman in Woolies chastising her 18 month old for having been "a little shit all day" while he sat casually slurping on a can of Mother and thinking he wouldn't visit her when she's in a home and wearing a nappy of her own) and I do it absent-mindedly when someone says something ridiculous (like when a person I thought was quite sensible suggested soaked, sprouted almonds as a viable alternative to biscuits).

I also do it willfully and behind closed doors when someone has a very different ethos to my own. I have judged (in no particular order and with differing levels of severity):

 

·         People who wear baseball caps backwards

·         Women who smoke while pregnant

·         Men who skateboard over the age of 21

·         Proponents of the "cry it out" sleep "technique" for babies (note judgmental use of inverted commas)

·         Shoppers who don't return trolleys

·         Every human being with bad manners who has ever walked the face of the earth

·         BMW drivers 

Admit it – we all do it. Not those things specifically of course, we all have our own personal bugbears, but I’d bet $4.11 that every person reading this blog post (Hi, how’s it going? We must catch up more) have, if not today, then this week, judged another person without knowing the whole story. It’s hard not to. But we should probably stop it. At the risk of sounding all Biblical and whatnot - “Judge Not Lest Ye Be Judged.” Yes, it’s hard to hear but for every fag-smoking, non-trolley returning, skateboarding, BMW-driving, bad-mannered, pregnant woman in a backwards baseball cap planning on leaving her child to scream, there is a fairly sensible person looking at you and thinking “OMG, I can’t believe s/he is doing that.”

 

And YOU know you’re a decent sort right? So maybe they are too. Perhaps we could take an Easter pledge, fuelled by Christian love and chocolate driven endorphins, to cut each other a bit of slack. Except for BMW drivers, they’ve got it coming.

*For the record, I agree that we should put down our phones and play with our kids; they are grown in the blink of an eye and they LOVE IT when you give them your full attention. And what I was actually doing in the park was photographing Aggie on the swing and Whatsapping the photos to my Mum in England - you know, fostering a loving grandparent-grandchild relationship across the miles. How d’you like them apples disapproving-playground-wench?!

40 before 40

I must apologise for my tardiness, I haven't blogged in so long. But I missed you and so I'm back.

 

In November I experienced a strange phenomenon. I turned 40. I don't know how it happened, one day I was 25 and singing along to the Boo Radleys in my £400 Citroen ZX, the next thing I'm 40, pushing two small kids in a double pram and indulging in a tendency to wear comfy clothes.

 

I'm not particularly upset about turning forty, growing older is a lot better than the alternative after all and I'm still looking fairly crease-free if I do say so myself. But it is WEIRD. Like maybe now I actually have to act my age and be properly responsible and plan for my retirement and stuff.

 

While rifling through drawers looking for the above mentioned pension info, I came across a notebook which I had obviously intended to use as a journal. True to form it has four pages of thoughts and the rest is blank. I never could keep a diary. But what thrilled me is that two of these pages are taken up by a "40 by 40" list. Dated January 2009, I specify in my journal that it is meant to inspire me to achieve the things I want in life, and not be a to-do list which I must slavishly follow (the five years ago me was pretty chilled out). I reproduce it here, in all its embarrassing, unedited glory for your amusement.

 

In no particular order:

 

1. Have at least two children (you've got to admire my ambition with the "at least") - Check
2. Get back to a size 12 and stay there - Har dee har har
3. Get a job I love - Check
4. Pay off all debt - Semi check, we're on our way
5. Learn not to take things personally - Checkish, I care MUCH less about others' opinion of me as I age
6. Travel through Vietnam-Cambodia-Laos - Nope, though I did make it to England, Italy and Bali
7. Get a PhD - Moving swiftly on...
8. Learn to sew - Semi check
9. Make a will - Fail
10. Take Spanish lessons - Lamentablemente, no
11. Learn to play guitar - Fail
12. Visit Uluru - No
13. Start/grow a business - Check
14. Learn to jive - WTF?
15. Start work on a novel - I started
16. Go to a Paul Weller gig - Check
17. Compile and read 100 must-read novels - Does doing it in my head count?
18. Compile and watch 100 must-see movies - See above
19. Become a stronger swimmer - Negative
20. Have a gorgeous bedroom - Check
21. Learn to love exercise - I accept that it's never going to happen
22. Have a vegetable and herb garden - Check
23. Sort out our wedding album - Yeah, no
24. Drive the Great Ocean Road - Doing this in April!
25. Visit Tasmania - Check 
26. Join a yoga/pilates class - No
27. Eat at Jamie Oliver's Fifteen - Fail
28. Visit Melbourne - Check
29. Complete Bridge to Brisbane Run - Nope
30. Learn to say "no" and "Yes" appropriately - Semi Check
31. Go camping - Fail

 

The list ends there, at number 31. I like that I didn't finish it.

 

My new "to-do" list is not so item specific and instead focuses more on how I want to live, it even has an appendix which details the changes I will instigate to make it happen (I'll share those at a later date).

 

I want to live:

 

• Financially free
• With less stuff
• With more time to spend as a family
• Growing my own food
• Baking, cooking and preserving
• Enjoying time with friends
• Writing and researching
• In a cosy, welcoming home
• In a nurturing environment
• With generosity of spirit
• In happiness
• With opportunities for travel and growth
• Deliberately
• With time to read and just "be."

 

Told you I'd grown up ;-)

What would make your "to do" list?

 

 

 

 

That was the week that was

In one week, in the middle of August, we moved house, became Australian citizens and set off on our first long-haul trip as a family. Not one to do things by halves, it seemed completely reasonable (at the time) to tackle these three major life events in seven days and it's only now - having survived jetlagged babies, surrounded by boxes and with a mysterious craving for pavlova - that I see what a week that was.

Moving house was as stressful and unpleasant as you might imagine. I ferried the little ones from pillar to post trying to keep out of the way as Andy oversaw the removalists and lifted heavy boxes. It was possibly the longest day in the history of really long days.

The bonus is of course that we're now happily ensconced in a cottage by the sea complete with veggie patch and mango tree. It is a fantastic place to live and hopefully heralds a new start for us. I had a definite case of the stuckinaruts at the old place and here everything is more airy and spacious and conducive to thinking happy thoughts.

 

Becoming an Australian citizen at a ceremony at Brisbane’s newly refurbished (and fabulous) City Hall was a surprisingly touching moment. I say surprising because I’m not one for displays of nationalism and am always a bit wary of the notion of ‘pledging allegiance.’ But the ceremony was beautifully done with music from the Navy band, Indigenous dance and a lovely choir. I felt a stirring in my long forgotten nationality organ and even shed a tear or two - much to Andy’s amusement who rightly pointed out “it’s only just started!!”

 

Trembling bottom lips aside, it was a special night and when it came time to take the pledge there were two readings – those who were declaring “before God” and those who weren’t. The believers went first and made a lovely en masse declaration and then it was our turn, the “Pledge Number 2” brigade. Andy and I, together with around ten other heathens, stood up and declared:

 

 “From this time forward,

I pledge my loyalty to Australia and its people,

Whose democratic beliefs I share,

Whose rights and liberties I respect, and

Whose laws I will uphold and obey.”

 

Then we all sang the national anthem, waved our Aussie flags and were showered in green and gold ticker tape. I was, and remain, very proud of my Australian citizenship and while I will always consider myself British-Australian rather than a true-blue Aussie, I am so grateful to the people who have welcomed us, the friendships we have made here and the many amazing opportunities this lucky country has given us. Don’t tell Andy but I’m welling up again…

 

Our trip to the UK was similarly emotional with gorgeous get-togethers with friends and family and picnics aplenty in a splendid British summer. It was a time of mixed emotions (more on this in another post) but it was wonderful to see Agatha and Henry interacting with people who adore them and to see the joy the little ones delivered in return. I spent an awe-filled hour in Marks and Spencer food hall and ate two lunches just because I couldn’t decide between the incredible gastronomic options. Tesco was a revelation and Waitrose nearly sent me over the edge. Coles and Woolworths take note – you’re doing it wrong!

 

Meeting the locals

 

Other highlights of our trip include; Agatha bathing a pig, a sunny morning at the beach, a catch up in the park with old friends which ended up a full-blown afternoon in the pub, a day at the races and a shopping trip with Andy while my parents babysat the midgets. Oh the unfettered joy of shopping sans small children! The ability to try things on, the leisurely lunch, the bookshop browsing, and the conversations which didn’t start with “can you watch them while I…”

 

It was a wonderful holiday and we even managed to survive the incredibly long flight thanks to in-flight TV, great kids’ meals from Emirates and a stopover in Dubai where we caught up with a friend (who kindly showed us around that shiny metropolis) and actually got some sleep.

 

Now we’re back it is full steam ahead with some exciting news in the near future but that will have to wait for another post, I have small people to cuddle, sweet potato to mash and major life-changing decisions to overthink.

Things that make you go: “oh that’s a bit marvellous!”

A while ago I wrote about giving up on an old dream and pursuing new ones. I talked about writing for a non-academic publication, sewing and enjoying my babies guilt-free. I was worried about what the future might hold, but excited at what lay beyond my studies.

 

More recently, I blogged about a fabulous magazine called Vintage Caravan Magazine and my love of the vintage van. It was a post that resonated with lots of people; friends told me they felt similarly and were amazed and delighted at the discovery of a magazine specialising in retro caravans and lifestyles. I started receiving emails about vintage vans in the news, the TV programme George Clarke's Amazing Spaces (currently airing on the Lifestyle Channel and WELL worth a watch) and a book called Vantastic: Retro caravan holidays in the modern world by fellow blogger Kate Ulman. It made me very happy indeed.

 

But not as happy as an email I received from Lisa Mora, editor extraordinaire of Vintage Caravan Magazine itself. Lisa told me that she loved the post and the blog and asked me if I might be interested in writing for VCM. That's right, she asked me if I'd like to write for the magazine I had  fallen in love with. It took a great deal of willpower not to call her immediately shrieking "YES YES YES, WHERE DO I SIGN?!" But of course I'm far too cool for that. I waited a reasonable amount of time (27 minutes) and emailed back with a "YES YES YES, WHERE DO I SIGN?!" Call me Iceman.

 

"But did you write anything?" I hear you cry. Why yes dear reader, yes I did. I wrote an article about an incredible 1966 Airstream trailer and it's in the new issue (15) of Vintage Caravan Magazine, available in all good newsagents on Tuesday 6th August! Can I get a whoop whoop?

 

Issue 15 of Vintage Caravan Magazine

 

 

It would appear that sometimes, when you clear out the old you make room for the new. What seems like a frightening step into the unknown may actually be your signal to the world that you're ready for the next phase, ready to embrace exciting new opportunities and ready to do more of what makes you happy. 

 

Give it a try. It might just be marvellous.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why don't you?

When I was a kid there was a TV show called Why Don't You (Just Switch Off Your Television Set and Go Out and Do Something Less Boring Instead?) in which groups of kids around the UK would find fun things that didn't involve television such as making kites or learning magic tricks.

The irony of a TV show built on the premise of not watching TV was not lost on me, even then, but over the years I have often repeated the WDY mantra to get me off the sofa and into something more interesting. 

On Sunday morning I decided that I needed to take things up a notch and so began the week without TV. It's day two today and so far all is well. I read a book while the midgets napped and actively enjoyed my lunch rather than consuming it entirely unawares while viewing recorded episodes of Kirstie's Vintage Home (and then feeling hungry 10 minutes later).

For those of you playing along at home, the novel I am reading is 'The Little Coffee Shop of Kabul' by Deborah Rodriguez. The words "as if Maeve Binchy had written The Kite Runner" on the front cover should have been enough to put me off but it was a gift and actually it's quite readable in a... well in a Maeve Binchy sort of way and that's okay with me; in my mother's bookshelf are many shelves (see what I did there?).

So I'm not taking a break from TV because I find popular culture beneath me. Far from it, I bloody love the telly. I am always highly amused by those hipsters who disdainfully proclaim not to watch much Television, as though doing so lowers their cool factor or their intelligence (thus implying that those of us with slightly square eyes are both uncool and just a bit stupid). Then you go to their house and see a 45,000 inch flat screen TV. Raising your eyebrows you might remark "my, what a big telly you have", only to be informed that they only use it for watching *insert obscure US comedy/Japanese cartoon/foreign language film here*. Yeah, wank on buddy, you know who Roo Stewart is as well as I do.

No, my break from the box is purely about time. If I watch three hours a day, five days a week then a week of abstinence is an impressive 15 hours returned to me. What to do with all that time?

I'm aiming for more playing, more cooking, more walking, more talking, more reading and more thinking. I shall report on my progress when the week is over, but if somebody could just tell me what happened in Sunday night's 'Elementary' that would be grouse.

What would you do with an extra three hours every day?

 

Second time around

This weekend I did something I never do; I holidayed in a place for the second time. I mean, I have been to certain places more than once – Paris is a city I have visited a few times for example (I’m not showing off I promise, I’m from the UK so it used to be an easy and affordable trip) – but I have never deliberately chosen the exact same location and accommodation before.  

And yet, almost a year to the day since our last excursion into the countryside, we found ourselves zooming out of the city at lunchtime on Friday, headed once again for the Lost World Valley and 'our' cottage.

 

This time we were accompanied by our second beloved midget and our rather splendid two year old. Last time we relaxed, unwound and enjoyed the fresh country air. This time we enjoyed the fresh country air. Turns out two years olds aren’t quite as relaxing as one year olds and that newborns don’t sit smiling in a high chair while awaiting sustenance. Who knew?  

 

We may have been twice as tired but we still had lots of fun. Check out this comparison pic of Lady A at the cottage last year and again this weekend.

What a difference a year makes

 

We also find ourselves experiencing a little déjà vu on the home front as we are once again looking for a rental property. The place we have now is fine, but it’s not right and with two small children and a potential work from home job (more on that next post) I need it to be right. This time the priorities are space both internally and externally. We’re ready for a change of scene and arehousehunting in areas quite different to the one we have occupied this past six years.

 

Although moving is undoubtedly a big, fat pain in the ass, it is also a chance to mix things up a bit, to slough off the old and emerge all exfoliated and fabulous, ready to enjoy the fresh start. I cannot wait to faff with furniture in a new environment, to take different walks, drink tea in different cafes and turn somebody else’s house into our home. That last one is always a challenge but I’m up for it, in fact I’m champing at the bit to get started. Somebody hold me back!

 

And to top off a week of all things two, this Saturday I’ll become the very proud Godparent to twins at a Sesame Street themed naming ceremony and birthday party.

 

This post was brought to you by the number two.

Oh happy day

As you know, I've been working on a little something for nine months now.

On 14th March, at 9:06pm, that little something came into the world in a moment of pure, unadulterated joy.  

It is my absolute honour to introduce you to Henry Gabriel, a 9lb 7oz bundle of fun.

Henry - the first two weeks

 

Andy and I cried as I cradled our beautiful, newborn son, overwhelmed once again with the kind of love you only feel for your children. I could wax lyrical about his incredible blue eyes, the fuzzy softness of his hair and the way my heart swells when he smiles at me but I’ll try and sum it all up by saying that Henry, along with his amazing sister Agatha, is the love of our lives.

 

Happiness comes in very small packages sometimes.

Wait for it

I’m trialling a new virtue this week – patience. While I can be very patient with people; when teaching at uni for example, or with Agatha the Excellent, I am extremely impatient in almost every other way.

Slow drivers, long queues, being on hold for more than about 90 seconds all get my dander up. I am one of those people who click things on their computer too many times and end up with multiple versions of Word open on my desktop. I feel exasperated when Andy moves from room to room and does not load himself up, Sherpa-style, with all the stuff he could be taking with him; I want to shout “time management people, time management!!”

All of this frustration is (mostly) silent as my good manners generally hold sway over my more base emotions but sheesh, it’s all going on inside. I want to do several things at once and I want them to happen at a click of a button; I hate to “waste time” which is why I’m almost incapable of a romantic stroll and instead set off at a brisk pace towards our destination while Andy rolls his eyes and sometimes jogs (sarcastically) to keep up.

Impatience, frustration and exasperation are not useful emotions in my life and they are too close to anger for my liking. I’m not an angry person, in fact my natural disposition is sunny so why the need to have things happen RIGHT NOW?

It’s partly driven by my need to “multitask”; I have so much I want to do in any given day that waiting feels like dead time. Being on hold for 23 minutes is only acceptable if I am simultaneously paying bills online. If the internet connection drops out during that time and I have to just sit there then it’s a wasted opportunity. Likewise, standing in a monumental queue at the post office because they only have one staff member serving during their busiest period drives me a little bit wild. I could shop for dinner, check out the specials at Aldi, (are we okay for whippersnippers and mackerel?) and chat to my friend in the florist during the time it takes to get to the counter in that place.

However, new research from the University of Utah shows that my long-held belief in the awesome power of my own ability to multitask may be misplaced “We showed that people who multitask the most are those who appear to be the least capable of multitasking effectively” says Psychology Professor David Sanbonmatsu, a senior author of the study.

 

Professor David Strayer, adds, “The people who are most likely to multitask harbor the illusion they are better than average at it, when in fact they are no better than average and often worse.” Citing humorist Garrison Keillor’s catchphrase about kids in Keillor’s fictitious hometown, Strayer says people… “all think they live in Lake Wobegon, where everybody is above average. But it’s a statistical impossibility.”

So if multitasking is a bit of a myth, at least for those of us who think we’re good at it, what’s the alternative? What do I do with all that dead time - just “be”?!  Stand there and think? Ponder the vastness of the universe? Well, sort of.

I am currently receiving my best ever lesson in patience as I await the arrival of our new baby. With just three days to go until the official due date, I am rather excited to meet this little person and the impatience has been creeping in. I spent all of last week engaged in various natural induction methods and confess I have acupuncture booked for later today to see if we can’t get things started.

 

A two week old Agatha - still makes my heart skip a beat.
Photo by Rachel Richter Photography

 

But, this last couple of days I’ve had a change of heart. I realised that this little one will come when s/he is ready and that the best thing I can do is to relax and enjoy this last few days with my baby inside me. I may never be pregnant again and I want to savour the experience. A calmness has taken over and amazingly (and thanks in part to a nesting-related energy surge) I’m getting more done than ever before.

I’m trying to extend this Zen-like attitude to other areas of my life and this morning I only pressed the Excel shortcut on my desktop once and then waited until it opened up before pressing anything else. I spent the few seconds it took to open gazing at the photo on my desk of a two week old Agatha and thought how much I loved her and the baby we’re soon to welcome.

 

Best “waste of time” ever.

 

All change

I heard something profound yesterday. Just a comment, in passing, from an ordinary guy on the TV who was talking about how lucky he was in his job as Liaison Officer at St Michael's Mount in Cornwall, England.

His name is Pete Hamilton and the words he used were; "I wouldn't change a thing about my life." He then seemed a bit taken aback by his rather weighty statement and said " hang on a minute, let me just think about that... No, it's true; I wouldn't change a thing about my life." Then we saw a shot of him with (I think) his baby daughter in his arms.



St Michael’s Mount, Marazion, Cornwall England
Photo courtesy of www.stmichaelsmount.co.uk

It was such a small moment but it had a huge impact on me. I can't stop thinking about it - imagine being able to honestly say that you wouldn't change ANYTHING about your life? It's kind of a bit mind-blowing.
 
Of course it started me thinking about what I'd change about my life. Given this blog, it's no surprise that living more simply, free of debt and with time to do more of what makes me happy remain top of the list.

But even if all of those things were in place, would I/could I say that I wouldn't change a thing? So much of what Pete Hamilton said is down to attitude. Sure, he lives and works in a beautiful village, he's recently married and has just started a family, exciting times all round. But I got the sense that he's a content sort of person, that not leaving the area he has grown up in was a conscious choice to be happy with his lot rather than a lack of opportunity or ambition. That financial considerations are way down his list of priorities and that his greatest joy is found in the simplest things.

I mention his having stayed near his childhood home because I wonder if my own desire to live and work abroad (more than once) is indicative of a "grass is greener" mentality and thus a mindset destined to disappoint? Had I stayed in my hometown I'm pretty confident that I'd be living a simpler life; debt-free (or at least without the huge expenses the move necessitated) and with lots of time to do more of what makes me happy. Family support, a career uninterrupted by further study, a home bought earlier and some bad decisions unmade would have made that possible.

It would be disingenuous of me to suggest that I regret moving to Australia (or the Netherlands, an earlier adventure) or any of the travel I have experienced since I was 18 years old. I’m a firm believer in the idea that “the world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page” (St. Augustine) so staying in my hometown was never a realistic option for me. Not to mention the fact that I would have missed out on some amazing experiences and very special friends and but still... I wonder if my desire for “different” has in some ways limited my ability to enjoy the “everyday”.

So how do I make Mr. Hamilton’s statement true for me here and now? What steps do I take to find contentment in what is, instead of being distracted by what could be or what might have been?

I know I need to keep going with the things I put in motion when I started this blog. But what else? Have you done it? Are you one of the lucky few who wouldn't change a thing about your life? Are you working towards your own state of contentment? Please share your ideas!