week 2 of the job hunt and the boredom has already set in. this is not helped by the fact that we just got back from amsterdam and i am now suffering from post holiday blues. why is it wrong to want to be on holidays forever? would it get boring?

boredom, of course, is easily cured, right? you just do something, anything, and you're engaged in an activity so you should no longer be bored. at least that's what my parents led me to believe. I have learned over the last few days, however, that tidying and housework will never cure boredom. in fact, i think it's pretty safe to say, i am bored of housework. this is no great revelation, i know, because no-one really likes housework, do they?

but back to the boredom thing, what i find about me, is that i can lack real motivation. for example, for the last two days we have had absolutely stunning weather, the sort that makes you sing out loud and twirl around, and sniff flowers in that deeply satisfied way. and have i gone outside to enjoy this weather? no, i sat on the couch and moped instead. because i suspect, not only about myself but others as well, that when you're bored you prefer to stay bored so that you've got something to whine about. perhaps that's a little bit harsh. but i am trying to have a stern word with myself about the whole issue. i mean, for goodness sake, i am an adult now. surely only children and those lacking in imagination would let themselves get bored!

last night i resolved to fight the problem head on. I have resorted to lists and the rather childish reward system. if i do everything on my list for that day i can have a reward. even as i type this, the child in me is clapping its hands and asking what kind of reward it will get! i've decided to keep it a mystery!

on the job front, sadly there is no update. i did have a job interview for a place that's about 33 miles from here which i'm relieved to say i didn't get, as the thought of commuting that far everyday was making me weep inside. fingers crossed that something will come along soon, as that would be the best, and most lucrative, cure for my boredom.

which way?

well, unemployed kristi has returned. of course she can't help but feel somewhat annoyed at past kristi for her cockiness and her possibly foolhardy decision to walk away from paid employment. it occurred to me yesterday, whilst sitting in a cafe, watching the hoards frivolously spend their money, a luxury that past kristi ripped from my hands with her ridiculous need to not feel stressed at work...where was i? oh, yes, it occurred to me that this could possibly be one of those crossroad thingies that self help gurus go on about. but as i'm not psychic i have no way of knowing if i'm taking the happy road, full of sparkles, adventure, ridiculously uplifting moments, and good fortune, or the sad road, surrounded by daytime tv, cheap stodgy food, and the eventual deadening of my soul. (how's that for melodrama?!) so i sat there, wondering, that if i had a time machine if this would be the point that i would come back to, well not right now obviously, because it's already too late, but you get the drift.

see, the problem is, i have no idea what i'm good at. there are some things i do well, such as baking, and...does saying ridiculously pompous and self-righteous things when i'm drunk count as a skill? probably not. what else? i've been told i have an excellent phone manner. someone once told me that i was funny. i'm still not sure though if they meant it the way i took it. and i'm really good at watching tv. i haven't, as yet, been able to figure out a way to channel that into a career though.

but, despite the slight twang of fear present in my ramblings, i am, well, at least attempting to remain positive. and the calender has a few pleasantries in store for me over the next few weeks, so perhaps i'll just sit back, put on my tv watching hat and enjoy the lack of responsibility!

areet, petal?

i just went back and read all of my past blogs. there is a definite move from hopeful excitement at the beginning to the dull ache of boredom and despair more recently. i have actually been thinking about that over the last week, and how i was determined to show that it's not all mopey bottom lip dragging. i believe i'd planned to show you a picture of some daffodils growing in our garden.

but flowers, and spring, make me think of enid blyton actually. i grew up on a steady diet of the faraway tree, the wishing chair, brer rabbit, amelia jane, mr twiddle, and was always delighted at the pictures and descriptions of english flowers. when the first snowdrops appeared i was overcome with a childish sense of wonder. i'm dead keen to see bluebells, although jeff tells me there hard to come by.

so, snowdrops, and bluebells, and daffodils, and crocuses all mean that it's spring! the weather has been warm enough over the last week to prompt me to leave the house without a coat! i felt very brave and carefree! it also means that you start to see locals in tank tops and shorts, despite the fact that it's still only 12 degrees. there has been, of late, quite a lively debate on the radio about the best time to start wearing shorts. no real consensus has been reached though, which i find a little on the disappointing side, as i like to imagine that there would be a national leg baring day, a harbinger of spring, and warmer times to come!

and most excitedly of all, i have only five days left at my job! it is with a sense of relief and anticipation that i will leave that place, and head out into the unknown, my resume held before me, worn humbly, and proudly, and proclaiming "here is a woman who is in control and knows exactly what she is doing". i think...

burst

why are we surprised by bigotry? perhaps more appropriately why am i surprised by it? and why has it come as such a shock to me to find it in the uk? did i really think that i wouldn't? i mean i knew about the BMP, and jeff had shown me various articles in the daily mail. that should have prepared me right? nope...

last week, much to my personal horror and disgust, a vulnerable young woman was left out in the cold purely because she was different to those around her. and what surprised me most about it was that people seemed genuinely afraid to help her. and these were professional people, whose jobs are designed to help vulnerable people.

but i think that's what bother's me most about it, is the fear. look at japan. i actually can't watch any of the news reports about japan, because the amount of tension and fear they generate is intolerable. i'm enraged by the constant "let's talk to this professional about what might happen", and that, more worryingly, people in positions of responsibility seem to take these reactionary stories as "truth" and so make decisions, or offer advice to their ex-pats that is ill founded.

there are very few voices of calm out there, they get drowned out by the cacophonous din of "reporting" (i quite deliberately didn't use the word journalism here).

which, to end on a bitter note, is what happened to the young lady i mentioned before. the misconception about her situation was spread to others and so she was further disadvantaged. and finally, my happy idyllic bubble about life in england, was burst.

this is a field mouse. well, at least it's the picture i got when i typed field mouse into google. as we practically live on a field, they often come for a visit. we have, so far, been somewhat inhospitable hosts, having trapped four of them, terminally, if you know what i mean!

they seem to have forgotten this though, in their collective mouse memory, because jeff and i spent last night being periodically woken by a rustle, rustle coming from various points in the room. i bravely sent jeff forth to investigate, and on the last instance he discovered our house guest perching on the top of our clothes rack. these mice are pretty small, but this was a diminutive one. my husband then, in his reasonable way, found a shoe box, approached the clothes rack and kindly asked the mouse to get in it. no word of a lie. i believe the exact wording was "just get in the box and i'll take you outside." kept me awake for ages, giggling, that one did!

but it's funny the things you can't shake from your childhood, such as don't investigate the rustling coming from jeff's wardrobe because it will probably turn out to be hiding a taipan, or a redback, or some other such poisonous creature.

this conditioning is of course why i tell jeff to investigate the noises coming from his wardrobe, even if that involves waiting for him to actually get home, going downstairs to get him, or gently (by which i mean roughly) waking him from a deep restful slumber.

and also why i will never, ever, no matter how innocent they look, like spiders.

the blank page of my blog has been staring at me with blind accusation for the last few days. perhaps i've been too wrapped up in contemplating my own future. for you see, i've quite my job. that is, i handed in my notice yesterday and i only have a month left to go.

and what an interesting response i've had from my coworkers. (incidentally, the preferred term here is colleague, which is weird when you'e in the supermarket and a call comes over the PA for a colleague from fresh produce!) most people are genuinely surprised and a few are even sad (one for the ego!), but all seem quite impressed at my bravery as i don't actually have another job to go. but i guess it's the fantasy we all have isn't it? you're at work, the boss is demanding something, the phone wont stop ringing, you've got enough work to last you for a month, but it's all due tomorrow, and you think to yourself, that's it, i'm just gonna walk out and never come back. and what a great feeling it is too. sod responsibility and being an adult, i'm gonna throw caution to the wind and put all of my eggs into one basket (or any other appropriate metaphor that teaches us about being responsible).

and the best bit? i've already been asked about a job that isn't definite, but wouldn't have been offered to me if i hadn't handed my notice in.

vaycay

well, i'm sure all six (no wait, seven if i include jeff) of my readers where devastated when i didn't post last week, but it was a choice between write up my blog or head down to the beach bar for another jar of sangria. it's a pretty easy choice...

i honestly, hand on my heart, almost started crying when we walked out of newcastle airport last night. it was about 3 degrees, it was dark, and most importantly, it was windy. the whippy kind of wind that blows directly into your face no matter which way you stand.

but i'm feeling ok with it all this morning. a week long of relaxing will do that i suppose.

in a way this is kind of the first vacation i've ever been on. i've been on holidays where i've toured around cities, we went on camping trips when i was a kid, and i've flown in planes big and small to visit family, but i've never rocked up to a resort village and spent the week doing nowt.

as much as i enjoyed it though, by the end of the week i was getting pretty antsy. i'm nothing but amazed by people who can do it for more than a week at a time. i should point out by nothing i mean we went for some long walks, read books, ate food, drank sangria. it seemed to me while we were there that there were plenty of people who did even less than that.

i suppose you're all expecting me to make some sort of disparaging comments about the beaches as well, as we aussies are want to do. actually, i thought all the beaches were lovely, and i was quite charmed by the beach chairs and umbrellas on the beach that you could rent for the day. that shit would never fly back home! the conversation, i like to imagine, would go something like this:

"oh look dazza, they have beach umbrellas and sunbeds to rent. ooo, how european!"
"hey, you're right shazza! let's find out how much they are. Excuse me mate, how much for a beach brolly and two of them banana chairs?"
"it's $20 for the parasol for the day, and $10 each for the sunbeds."
"how much?! you're joking right? why would i pay that much when i've got my own beach towel i can sit on. you're a joker mate! come on shazza, this guys a joker!"
"but dazza..."
"c'mon shazza! this guy's a stubbie short of a picnic if he thinks he can charge people that much!"

and so on, and so on. but the aussies and the brits do approach holidays differently, i suppose because of the landscape around us. people genuinely suffer from the winter blues over here, and the thought of escaping to warmth and sunlight, even if for a few days, is somewhat of a balm to depressed souls. in oz, particularly in the northern states, it's warm (well, hot) all the time. i think peoples desire to escape oz has less to do with the weather than for people who flee great britain. and i'm beginning to understand why.

i'm not sure what happened. i remember starting my blog, just not finishing it. somewhere in between writing my blog, and not writing my blog i obviously got distracted. but really, in the grand scheme of things, does it really matter? i didn't think so...

i'm thinking that i should probably change the day i write my blog. reluctant isn't a strong enough word to indicate how much i don't want to write my blog after a night out! of course i could always drink less...

i took my first real foray into the heaving behemoth that is the national health system last week. i had an appointment at a hospital and i was overwhelmed by the sheer number of people that work within the system. there seemed to be people whose sole job was to take files from one desk to another. i'm sure that isn't all that they do, but looking from the outside in that's what it looked like.

there was actually a moment where i was waiting for my check up, and i could sense the whole system ticking away above and around me, and i understood for the first time why people are so protective of it, and why they get freaked out at the thought of any changes to it.

i'm sure, like any other system, there are people who have a bad experience in it, but i was very impressed at how efficiently everything ran, despite the sheer number of people being seen at the clinics that morning.

of course, me waxing lyrical about the health system is, lets face it, barely interesting. but do you know what is interesting? holidays! jeff and i are off to tenerife on friday. here's a picture to give you an idea why i'm so excited!

where is this is what i've become accustomed to

can you see? to be honest, i'm already in holiday mode, which makes work interesting! bring on the cocktails i say!

but what do you mean??

hello. are you having a nice sunday? i am. i've somehow managed to shake off all the stress and unhappiness from work and reach a point of calm laziness. this was, of course, helped along by having friday off, and therefore enjoying a 3 day weekend!

i had actually had something in mind to write about this week, but it would seem that all the relaxing has lead me to forget.

i could talk about houses, and how even the word house has different connotations for people. you know last week when i was ranting about things i couldn't get used to? well in part it has to do with language, and how two people, both from countries that speak the same language, can have no idea what the other person is talking about.

for example, a bungalow (according to jeff) is a house that has only one level. it isn't a house unless it has two levels. hence my husband describing australian houses as being mostly bungalows. to me a bungalow is more like a cottage, although it could have more than one level and still be a cottage. but the defining factor is that it's small. most australian houses aren't small, so i would describe them as a house.

a flat is different to an apartment, although the only explanation i've been able to figure out for this is that an apartment is a posh flat. i've always used those words interchangeably, and unit as well, as in "it's a nice 2 bed flat/apartment/unit." so when a colleague of mine at work was complaining about a property she had seen advertised, i was confused when she said "i hate when they advertise a flat as an apartment, when it's quite clearly a flat!"

language, i think, is as much about the picture in your head, as the word that you use. which i guess explains why most people look confused when i say i chose to live here rather than australia, because this is all they see...


ps happy australia day for last wednesday!

things i can't get used to:

shops that open at 10am on a sunday, but don't open the till until 10.30.
the indicator in my car being on the left side of the steering column.
pants are underpants, not trousers.
lollies are called sweeties (which, incidentally, makes me feel like a creepy old man every time i say it).
there is no milo here.
cordial is called squash, and most juice is made from concentrate.
journalists are overly aggressive.

there are more, only i can't think of them first thing sunday morning before i've had a cup of tea!

ok, i'll freely admit that this is a bit of a rant, but i guess i'm surprised at how i expected this place to be more like australia. generally speaking it is, but there are more little differences than i thought there would be.

of course, it's not all irritation and annoyance.

things that i love:

beautiful, green countryside.
jacket potatoes with baked beans and cheese.
cider.
people calling me flower.
that the geordie accent now sounds normal.
that i work near the seaside.

see? if you look hard enough you can always find something nice.

i've spent the last week glued to the internet looking at photos of the flooding in queensland. what's been surprising for me is the amount of media coverage the floods have gotten over here. although i guess it's not so surprising given the number of people that have told me about relatives/friends they have over there.

all the flooding does help to put ones own weather into perspective, and it has made me somewhat reluctant to complain about the rainy weather here. not completely mind! i am finding myself becoming somewhat acclimatised. jeff almost laughed himself silly the other week when i commented on how warm it was at 4 degrees! before you know it i'll be like one of the local geordie lass's, heading out for a night of binge drinking and misbehaviour, dressed only in my shortest dress and my tallest high heels!

goerdie lass's are something of a phenomenon in england, known far and wide for their tolerance of the cold. i kid you not, i have seen girls at the bus stop waiting to head into town in mini dresses and no coat when it was minus 3 or 4 outside!

here's a random pic from the net that'll give you some idea of what i'm talking about.

yes, i know one girl is wearing a coat, but i'd like to draw your attention to the snow on the ground. and the length of the blond girls skirt!

the newcastle centre for life, which is an organisation that researches life and how it works (their words, not mine) have apparently undertaken a study in the past to see why geordie girls are more tolerant of the cold than their southern counterparts! they think it might have something to do with how thick skinned they are!

and they amount of fat they eat too. I mean, after all, anywhere that classifies a baked potato with beans and cheese as a healthy lunch is probably going to be chucking down the starchy, fatty treats with wild abandon!

i've mentioned communication before, i know, but i had an interesting experience at work this week, whereby something that i said was completely misunderstood with the impact that i've been shifted from one floor to another. since then i've been thinking about whether or not it is just a cultural communication breakdown, or my inability to correctly use the english language. it has been pointed out to me, with some glee, that english is a second language, given that i learnt australian!

and i did have a strange moment when driving to work one morning listening to the radio. the bbc was interviewing some people in queensland about the floods, and i thought to myself "eeee, listen to that accent!". I hadn't realised before that the geordie accent now sounded normal to me. i never really had that moment in japan, what with my united colours of beneton group of friends.

so with the locals sounding normal, and with me approaching my six month mark, you think that i would be better at getting my point across, right? apparently not.

but it's an interesting challenge, teaching these lot how to understand me. i'm thinking of making up some flashcards. no point in letting three years of language education go to waste!