OK, so I’m not really officially an Expat mum … at the moment … but I have been and well, with the way my feet are itching at the moment, I’m pretty sure I will be again. So, on the invite of the lovely Emily at Brits in Bosnia, here I am!
I first entered the world of being an expat age 23 when I spent six wonderful months living in Japan – minus a baby. I remember stepping off the plane and navigating myself in a daze around the busy airport swarming with people. I had a broad smile on my face and burning flames of excitement deep in my stomach. It took all I had to stop them from leaping right out of my mouth. I remember thinking “this is the life for me.”
Continue reading "A Serial Short Term Expat" »
I packed road food (snacks that aren't usually allowed), and filled a small flask with green tea (healthy caffeine, I guess), and put the bags in the boot along with the unicycle so my daughter could show her grandparents her amazing balance. We left at 8.30 am.
We passed several signs labelled The North. I always love the implication of those signs--a place so big and wild it can only be labelled The North. Overactive imagination, I admit.
We arrived at Scotch Corner at 11.30 am. Scotch Corner is a services area on the A1. We were making good time, Saturday mornings are a good time to travel. While having another green tea and a toasted panini at Scotch Corner my daughter and I talked about Road Trips. I explained that at three hours into a road trip in the States you would be just down the road a ways, there would be days more of driving. This is relevant because were are considering a road trip in the States next summer, rather than going to Northern Minnesota. I would like my daughter (and step-kids!) to see more of my home country.
Continue reading "Road Trip: Back to the Beginning" »
This morning I'm in Nottingham, on the 77 Bus en route from my hotel to a client's site and there is a three-year-old kid sitting behind me singing the Shut Up Song. For those of you unfamiliar with this ditty, it goes like this:
Shut up, shut up
Shut up, shut up
Shuuuuut up, shuuuut up
Shut up, shut up
This appears to be the only verse, although there is an occasional refrain that sounds something like, "Shut up, shut up, shut shut shut up . . ." One gets the feeling he hears that phrase a lot. But the worst part is, it has an unfortunately catchy tune so I just know it will be with me for the rest of the day.
Continue reading "The accidental tourist " »
Our trip to Dorset, as it turned out, coincided with the annual spider Olympics, heavyweight division. Every time I stepped into the garden I had to snap a branch from a nearby tree and move forward, twirling it in front of me like a foil as if I were fencing an invisible but energetic opponent.
In a way, I was. The spiders, with a few notable exceptions, were not visible during the day but they could collectively spin enough silk over night to trap a fly the size of an Airbus 330. Therefore, every afternoon, the garden table needed de-webbing, as did the chairs (along with a peek under the seats to make sure nothing untoward was hiding there) the pathways and any bushes close enough for a spider to leap from hiding onto any part of my body. (And, as I understand it, your average spider can leap about 50 feet.)
Continue reading "It followed me home -- an encounter with a British spider" »
