It's A Slow Death In Suburbia - Part II

It is hot. I mean for Spring, 30 degrees is quite something.  Lovely walking Henry to school today though as the morning was a bit cooler, and the morning walk is in the shade (coming back is lethal at 3:30pm though).

I have started to meet some other Mums in the schoolyard. Half of them live in our street.  They introduced themselves and then informed me that they lived across the road and another two doors down.  Is it me or did I detect a smirk on their faces as they told me where they lived?  I latched on to this knowing look thinking that they have probably heard me in my best Yugoslavian Fisherman's Wife voice yelling out "HENRY!" "RUFUS!"  Usually followed by some sort of "GET OFF THAT FENCE/YOUR BROTHER/CAR/PLASTIC SWORD NOW!"

The Accountant usually plays his best card when dropping Henry off in the morning. Swaggering into the schoolyard in his Saville Row suit, Thomas Pink shirt, sunglasses.  Beaming at all the mothers.  Such a good father - so proud, so involved, so althetic-looking, walking his son to school.

Then I turn up at the end of the day. Haggard. Hair straggling out of a messy bun.  Tired from breastfeeding all night. Rufus and Jonty tired/hungry/thirsty from the walk. Henry nagging me for food straight away.  Three boys to watch and look after at the same time amongst hundreds of children. And these women try and have decent conversation with me and I can almost hear them thinking "Why is he with her? What a wreck!".

It's A Slow Death In Suburbia - Part I

When I first imagined The Accountant and I moving to Australia, I must admit it was with some trepidation.  I pictured us living on the outskirts of one of the major cities.  A red brick, 3-bedroomed, dry, dusty garden, with carport, one gum tree and a wooden letterbox at the end of a hot, lonely concrete path. 

No offence to anyone who does live in such a house - but thank god we moved to gorgeous Camberwell! We are having a ball. Gorgeous. Delightful. Easy. Elegant.  I tortured myself looking at these lovely deco houses on the internet in Oxford, never thinking we would actually be lucky enough to ever live in one.

I highly recommend it.  For those living in the UK - it is a bit like living in North Oxford, in the area of the Dragon School/Cherwell Boathouse. Only better with better coffee shops in walking distance.  It was obviously meant to be as on way my way pick up Henry from school the other day, I noticed that the closest set of shops has a new cafe opening soon.  The Red Bean Cafe - completely gluten free.  There is a God and she is wheat-free in Camberwell.

Early Christmas

Unpacking is so much fun.  The new house is bigger than our house in Oxford, so our furniture is dwarfed in the space.  It is probably not that the house is huge, but there are more rooms, and higher ceilings, and my office is a little outbuilding to the side of the house.

I tried to re-make my dresser just the way I had it in our Oxford sunroom. I nearly forgot where certain pieces of glassware and pottery was placed, and very nearly called up the one person I knew would remember each and every piece.  David H would have had a call early UK time as I could not figure out how I fitted all that stuff in.   In the end I worked it out, and as I did I was looking at each piece thinking "My I have good taste!"  It is nice to have all our things back again, and even though it should be no surprise unwrapping all the things, you find yourself exclaiming and smiling as if you were opening present after present to yourself.

So glad we invested in pieces from around the world whilst on our adventures abroad, as now they are with us, as are the memories.  Henry's teacher commented on my shoes yesterday and asked where they were from. Shoes: New York. Skirt: Sardinia. Top: Australia. Sunglasses: France. Not so much slummy mummy any more.

Worldly Goods

Our stuff arrives tomorrow morning - hurrah!  No more scrabling about on the floor in place of a table and breastfeeding at all hours of the day and night on mattresses on the ground.

As nice as it was for my relatives to lend us old crockery and cutlery, I cannot wait to have a cup of tea in MY cup and saucer. In fact when the van pulls up I will personally rugby tackle the removalists myself, rip open the box and start pouring tea into the very cup I'm thinking about. What a weird fantasy hey?  I think I've been locked up with the children for too long......

First Day of School

It was a very busy, bustling mess getting to school this morning, for Henry's first day at a proper State school (very different from the hippy, fields of flowers, chickens, peacock Montessori school of Oxfordshire!).  It was a lovely sunny morning. But halfway to our destination there was limping, whinging, tantrams - so I surrendered "Oh alright David! I know your foot hurts but get out the way of the bloody pram.".

When we met Henry's Prep teacher, he was EXACTLY LIKE MR. G FROM SUMMER HEIGHTS HIGH.   For those of you who are clueless to Mr. G, look at a clip on You Tube.  The teacher's real name is Mr. Mannam, but David thought it was Madam - very apt.  We got through the journey to school using one pram, two bikes and one scooter - and David and I were not even riding anything so figure that one out. 

And I've just realised that I have to do all of this in reverse this afternoon.  This school/kindergarten malarky will give me more of a workout than the last 20 years of my professional dance career.

Red Back Spider

Our own Deadly 60 presenter came running into the house yesterday with news of yet another trecherous looking spider down the driveway. The Accountant and I wandered out to find that indeed, Henry had actually found a Red Back Spider (Duchess read no further...).

I thought perhaps it was dead, but Henry had seen it scampering along.  He identified the spider as a Red Back (poisonous, deadly but quite small) from his books and from watching episodes of Deadly 60 on BBC iPlayer.  It was a terrific find for a six year old boy who has been looking for Red Backs for two years, even though it was the wrong country back then.

I love that my own father doesn't know my new address yet. So people take note here it comes:
40 Christowel Street, Camberwell, Victoria, 3124. Australia. The  other side of the world.

There's No Place Like New Home

Hey! Finally into our new house people.  Lots to do and obviously have the little tackers running excitedly around whilst trying to clean and unpack. I am truly the Queen of Rummaging and so in my element looking for places to put things. And the shipping freight has not even arrived yet!

Brian (more of him later) and his young and sexy apprentices arrived at the truly godforsaken hour of 6:45am this morning to deliver the rest of our stuff from The Cousin's house.  The Cousin and Second Cousin (Sophie - sister to Jacqui) were little bloody angels last night. Helping with the children, washing dishes, unpacking, drinking Champagne. Was a lovely welcome into our new home.

Sleeping arrangements are all over the place. Boys on lovely camp beds in their own room. Me on airbed in parental room, with Jonty in crib - and The Accountant chose to sleep on the boy's floor wrapped in a duvet. What's that about?

Also I'm online!
Over and out.