Tags

  • Published on

    Destination Perth!

    The last seven days have been busy, certainly the busiest for me, since I arrived in Australia. I have had determination in my eyes, as I sought so secure a new job. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the job I have, but I am well aware that it is time to move on. Of course, these days I have no fear of the unknown; after traversing the World for a number of years, I have no qualms about leaving my current circumstances behind, and heading forwards, towards adventures.

    Over the last week or so, I have literally blitzed the job market here in Perth. There are many positions on offer, and I have been inundated with interviews, and indeed, offers of employment. Trying to juggle interviews, conducted on Zoom from Sydney, has probably been my biggest challenge. Attending an appointment at seven o'clock in the morning isn't ideal, but luckily for me, I am an extremely early riser, and these days at least, I am at my best in the early hours.

    With several firm job offers under my belt, I believe I have made the right decision for me, at this juncture. I have decided to accept an offer of more money and allowances, in a business closer to home. It will also allow me to continue with a lifestyle, I have become accustomed to. This wasn't the position paying the most, but taking travel and commuting into account, this option affords me the best opportunity at my time of life.

    I can't stress enough, just how different the pay rates are between the Britain and here. We are paid substantially more down under, meaning I earn well over and above the average wage in the UK and Australia. This is probably the first time in my life, that I have absolutely no financial worries; so despite my moans and groans about this place, I am well aware where I am better off.

    With employment top of my list of priorities, you would think I haven't had time to do anything else, but both Darrell and I have found the time to relax and enjoy everything Perth has to offer.

    Last Sunday we travelled into the city for a meal, and show at the Perth Concert Hall. I had booked a table at The Italian Street Kitchen, in Raine Square, Perth. I have been past this restaurant many times before, but never had the pleasure of eating there. From the outside it is just an ordinary building, but inside, the ambience, feel, and atmosphere is uniquely Italian, in every respect. This was not another pastiche of Italian culinary delights, this is as authentic as it gets down under, and for me, it was a delight. I was transported back to my time in Naples and Sorrento, and I was impressed by the staff, standard of service and the quality of the food.

    The Italian Street Kitchen is a little more expensive than other places we have eaten, but that was only to be expected. Nothing is cheap in Australia anyway, so if you have to pay $60 more for a meal, then I can live with that. You do get what you pay for, and I was not disappointed and will certainly be back.


    Image description

    From The Italian Street Kitchen, we walked the short distance to Perth Concert Hall. This homage to Brutalist architecture, is not a place I have been to before; as I entered the building, I was impressed by the sheer size of the building. The atrium was light, bright and airy — here I bought a few books signed by Mariam Margolyes, the Australian/British national treasure we were there to see. This was a show I had been looking forward to, and I wasn't disappointed.

    Darrell and I had seats very close to the stage and a great view of Miriam. This was a one woman show, with a female journalist host — for all intents and purposes, interviewing Miriam, or at least asking her questions. This was not a set-up I was used to, but it worked well, and I was impressed by Miriam's candour and frank conversation.

    Miss Margolyes spoke about everything, from her life to politics, and even gave several readings from Charles Dickens.  As usual there was no holing back, as she spoke in raw, uncensored language, in her own unique way. She has a voice you just can't forget; it is a voice I have known for many years, growing up with her on the television, in films and of course the theatre. She was an absolute joy to listen to, and I was glad I had booked the tickets, despite Darrell's initial reluctance.

    The bush fires have been engulfing the area around Midvale this week, showing just how vulnerable the area around our home is. You could see the smoke rising behind the houses on the opposite side of the road, and it was quite scary to observe. The people in the hills around Midvale really do suffer more than most, and with high winds, the flames were well and truly being fanned.

    Luckily we are far enough away to feel protected, but nevertheless we do get a lot of smoke settling in the suburb. This can cause major throat issues for me — sore throat, coughing and wheezing are just some of the symptoms all of us suffer from. For those who have asthma, the difficulties are even worse. This is one of the major downsides to living in Perth, but one that I'm sure I will get used to over time.

    This weekend we were once again back in Perth CBD for the annual Japanese festival. Both Darrell and I love all things Asian, so this was a must-see for us. If I am honest, it was rather disappointing. There wasn't mush to see or do, so we left after an hour, walking back into the city for lunch at The Shoe, in Yagan Square. This is a place we used to frequent often in the past, but we haven't been there in a while. The food is bog-standard Australian fodder, but the staff are lovely, and it is always a joy sitting on the balcony looking out over the city — even with all the construction work going on at the moment.

    Perth is the most isolated capital city in the World, and at times it really does feel that way. There are things to do in the city, but not on the same scale as London, New York or Sydney. I do find the lack of amenities here frustrating at times, especially when the city closes down at such an early hour. It does feel like I am living in a time warp, back in the 1990s, with similar shops, businesses, and restaurants also shutting prematurely.

    When you move to Perth, you must be prepared for the difference in lifestyle. This is a very quiet state in all respects, especially when you consider its vast size, in comparison to its population. When events and occasions happen in the city, it is important for me to grab those with open arms. Listening to Mariam Margolyes is a positive connection to my childhood and life back in the UK; being able to dip in and out, whilst living the quiet life, is a blessing. It allows me to return to my rather routine, mundane lifestyle, happy that I have at least been reminded of happy times back home.

    Perth, as a capital city, probably needs to do more for the people who live and work here. They need to encourage big name acts to come more often, and they need to rethink some of the more archaic laws that seem to hold this state back. I am happy to call this place home, but I would also like to play an active role in this diverse part of Australia, in the same way I would in Sydney or Brisbane, for example. This city and state has much to offer, and much more to give, so please give us a reason to celebrate, a reason to feel satisfied and a reason to feel alive!

    Picture
  • Published on

    Reflective mood — Remembering the last eight years!


    I've definitely been in a reflective mood this week. It has been eight years since Darrell and I left for Spain in 2016. Looking back at that period can at times be traumatic. The circumstances behind our departure, and my reluctance to leave Britain, has thankfully become a distant memory. The life enhancing experience of living in Gran Alacant, has become a special reminder of a carefree period, that allowed me to recover from one of the worst periods of my life. Without Spain, I don't think I would be the success it is today.

    Spain certainly taught me a lot about life; the expat community, of which I was a part, was a great source of inspiration and hope at such a challenging time. These were the people that got me through some pretty dark days, when my Mother-in-law was diagnosed with cancer and Darrell returned home. All of them, always, without fail, lifted me up when I was feeling low.

    I have so many regrets about leaving Spain in 2018, but with my Mother also seriously ill and Darrell having to care for Mum in Australia more and more, it was a necessary departure. The timing wasn't great, with Britain voting to leave the EU, but the reality was, it just wasn't meant to be. Our dreams faded into obscurity, and we adapted to our new life apart from one another, as we spent time with our respective families on opposite sides of the World.

    Today I look back at my time in Gran Alacant with fondness and have nothing but good memories of the years I spent there. If I could go back tomorrow, I would; if we had moved there a few years before, I believe our life would be very different today. Still I can't change history and despite having to leave my dream behind, both Darrell and I are finally making a success of our life, in a way we haven't in the past.

    Sadly, people aren't the same in Australia, but sometimes you just have to do what is right for your future. Friendships and companionship is of course important, but earning money has to take priority. I could never have earned the wages I earn here, in Spain, and for that reason I am better off where I am. However, we will both be back in Gran Alacant at some point and hopefully retire back to the place we once called home!

    This week is also the first anniversary of us buying our first home in Australia. It has certainly been an eventful and expensive year. Nevertheless, It does feel good to finally have our own place again, especially during the middle of a housing crisis down under, and we were lucky to have been fortunate, in securing a mortgage at such a difficult time economically. I do have my moans and groans about Australia, but when I look back at everything we have achieved, I really shouldn't complain. This country has been good to us, in a way the UK and Spain never were, so despite my misgivings, we are now firmly rooted in Australian life.

    On Sunday, by way of celebration, we took a drive to Scarborough beach, where we met an old friend of Darrell's, Danae; She is a breath of fresh air. I do find most Australians rather stand-offish, so spending time with someone who has been welcoming and open has been heartening. With both of us working hard, we don't get a chance to see many people, when we do, it definitely puts a new perspective on life.

    After a week of soaring temperatures of 45 degrees, and with more to come, I am gradually settling into Australian life. The heat has never really bothered me if I am honest, and the sun has always brought a smile to my face, but I do understand why so many people get down because of it; at times it can be relentless.

    I still can't help thinking what could have been, if we had stayed in Spain, but on good days, like today, my positivity returns. I have to keep telling myself, that at least I am not living in the UK at the moment. Unlike the vast majority, I have been afforded the chance of a new life in a country far away from the unhappy memories of the past, and for that I am truly grateful… Now who could possibly ask for more!


    Picture
    Picture
  • Published on

    The Perfect Birthday Present.

    Last Sunday, Darrell celebrated his 52nd Birthday. The weather was in the high thirties, unlike previous years, when he spent his Birthday celebrating in the UK. This year, we spent the day together in the city, toasting the day, with a few pints of Stella and a Sunday roast at Durty Nellys!

    Both of us have passed so many milestones over the last few years, that we have really lost count of, the number of important dates that have made us the people we are today. With Darrell reaching the grand old age of 51, it is clear, neither of us are getting any younger, and as we both settle into Australian life, memories of Birthdays past were on my mind.

    In our younger years, both of us would have celebrated for days on end, usually with a fancy dress party in our home. The house would be full to bursting with friends and family, and we would party the years away in the company of those who were closest. A little bit of me remains firmly rooted in the traditions of our past, and I do miss our old life, especially the people who used to be in it. Today everything seems rather laid back and ordinary, but in truth, that's all either of us wants. Our life is so far removed from the way it was, it is barely recognisable. Darrell and I have become old, set in our ways, and happy to lead a more tranquil existence.

    After a few pints in the Belgian Beer Café, we headed to our favourite Irish pub for a delicious roast. Durty Nelly's is slap bang in the middle of the city, just off Murray Street, surrounded by tall skyscrapers, His Majesties Theatre, shops, café's and historic buildings. Inside it is a world away from the neighbourhood of which it is a part. Its traditional ambience offers a welcome break from the busy commuter traffic outside, and it is a joy to just sit, relax, and remember similar occasions back home in the UK. If we weren't ten thousand miles away, you could almost imagine you were in the heart of the English or indeed Irish countryside.

    After a delicious meal, we headed to London Court for an Ice Cream in the now searing heat. London Court is a pastiche of the many medieval streets and lanes in the UK. Of course, it is rather different in reality, but for a homesick Brit like me, it is a great place to visit from time to time; it does evoke memories of my life in Britain and the narrow lane, does offer respite from the hot Australian sun. It really is worth a visit, the next time you are here.

    In the evening of Darrell's Birthday, we received a message from Jo, the lady who has been fostering and rearing little Akira. After a two-week wait, he was now ready to come to us. Happily, Jo wanted to drop Akira off in the evening, after we finished our Chicken Treat takeaway with Mother Mary and friend Beth. I told you, our life has changed; this Birthday couldn't be more different from the ones we enjoyed in Britain. To be honest, we couldn't wait to get Akira home and welcome him as part of our family.

    He was a little nervous at first, but soon enough became the terror we know today. Akira is full of life, and has a huge personality for a little kitten. Pippa is less than impressed by her new house mate, but as I write this blog today, she is finally coming round to her new companion. Thankfully, the trauma she suffered in the past hasn't caused too many long term issues. She is still very timid and anxious around Akira, lashing out on occasion, but that is really just part of the course. When you introduce a new kitten to an established household, you do expect a few problems at the beginning, so everything is crossed for a long term bond that will last the test of time.

    Presently, we are locking Akira in one of the spare back bedrooms while we are at work, just to give Pippa some space. I am also a bit concerned about Akira being around the Christmas tree. I have already caught her in the middle of it, after climbing up the trunk, early one morning. After reading horror stories of cats becoming tangled in fairy lights, sometimes causing fatal injuries, I am mindful of the accidents that could happen. For now, we are just keeping a close eye on him, trying to teach him what's right and what's wrong: difficult when you are dealing with a small, inquisitive kitten!

    As we approach Christmas, the temperature is rising here in Perth. Looking at the news, I can see the snow falling in the UK, a feature of the British winter I miss. However, I hope all of you have a wonderful weekend and enjoy the weather wherever you are. You may well wish you were in the heat down under, but for me, a small dose of frost wouldn't go a miss: we always want what we can't have!


    Picture
    Picture
  • Published on

    One Year On!

    Picture
    It's been a year since I started writing this blog, and what a year it's been! When I started writing, I was in a really dark place. Life had lost all meaning for me and I really couldn't see a light at the end of a very long dark tunnel. We were just entering another lockdown, and I can honestly say I'd never felt quite so alone as I did back then. Writing the blog has been extremely cathartic and has helped me in many ways. Writing my feelings down has helped me to overcome the dark times. I've written more than I've submitted as some stuff is just too personal to put in the public domain, but for someone who has hidden her feelings for a long time, the release my writing has given me is huge.

    I quite often read back over my previous ramblings, and I'm encouraged by how far I've come. With the help of the RTT hypnotherapy, learning to set boundaries, and practising mindfulness, my mental health has improved significantly. I still have dark moments, but they are no longer having the impact on my life like before. A few weeks after starting this blog I started my other "jokey" blog and my Facebook group which has given me so much pleasure and fun. I've made some amazing friendships and as I've said before I could never have imagined what I could have got from a daft Facebook group.

    My group has just under 1200 members and still continues to grow. I'm still receiving messages to say how the group has helped so many people going through rough times, and the sense of achievement is fantastic. I've met with a few members already and have been invited to spend time in some amazing destinations like Australia, The Norfolk Islands and Florida with some members I've got to know well over the past 11 months. Maybe next year I'll get there. One of my members who lives 3800 miles away in Manitoba, Canada, is coming over to visit in the New Year and I can't wait to finally meet him in person after many months of messages and calls. These people, who I would never have met if not for the group, have helped me more than they will ever know.

    We have just had the 5th anniversary of my husband's death, and last year was the hardest it had ever been. It's always a tough day and as it's bonfire night the sound of the fireworks for a couple of weeks before always seem to highlight the day. I was a little emotional on the day itself, but so much better than I was a year ago.

    The following day, my friend came down from Cheshire, and we went to see Portsmouth play at Fratton. I hadn't seen him since August, and it was the first football match I've been to since the pandemic started. After that, we ventured into Southsea for drinks and a meal. We had such a great day and night. I seem to have done more since July than I had in the last 2 years. I went to Victorious a couple of months back and saw Madness. I've wanted to see them for years, and I was not disappointed. It was amazing and for me meant I could finally dance again. Well, I use the word dance lightly, I threw myself around like a Looney for hours and struggled to walk the next day, but it was worth it. I've been to a couple of belated birthday parties for friends who turned 50 during the pandemic and again danced, laughed and thoroughly enjoyed mixing. I've a concert on my birthday in a couple of weeks at the O2 in London, as a present from my daughter and her partner. It will be the farthest I've travelled in a long time, and I'm looking forward to spending the time with my daughter. One of my friends has organised a group of us to go out the day after to celebrate my birthday and I cannot wait as I did nothing for my birthday last year.

    I'm a sociable person and finally feel like I'm getting my life back. Work is going well. I can now work from home 3 days a week and the office the other 2. This has helped give me a great work/life balance, and I've found at my age I appreciate that more than ever. I've started dating again and have met some nice guys and had some lovely days/evenings in good company. Only one has ticked all the boxes, but he lives 150 miles away. Typical! It's early days; I'm enjoying getting to know him, but I have found that I've built some pretty big walls up to protect me, and they are a little too solid at the moment, so for now I'm enjoying the single life. What is meant to be, will be.


  • Published on

    November Rain!

    Picture
    Well it's been 10 days since I put fingers to keys and thank you if you took time out to read it.

    When I wrote that first piece I was back to my lowest. I felt very despondent and alone. My thoughts were extremely dark and unhealthy. No matter what life has thrown at me I have always had my humour but even that abandoned me. Laughter is so important and I seemed to have forgotten what mine sounds like.

    November always used to be such a fun month for me. Bonfire night, birthday celebrations and Christmas not far away. I was always like an excitable child at this time of year. We would have Bonfire parties with our neighbours and good friends. They were always so much fun for the children and grown ups. We would BBQ, the children would play and the adults would talk, laugh and sing badly. The guys would sort the bonfire and let off the fireworks (apparently that's a man's job along with the BBQ 🙄) - very happy times indeed!

    My husband always had a thing for fire and fireworks. He wasn't a pyromaniac or an arsonist (although he was caught as a child trying to build a bonfire in his Nan's front room). Normally so chilled out, relaxed and quite reserved, he wasn't one for getting excited about Christmas or birthdays but he did love Bonfire night. So it's quite ironic that this is the day he passed away.

    He became ill in February 2016. Just pain in the right side of his chest he didn't grumble or complain but he did take himself off to the doctor which was unheard of for him.

    He was given an x-ray, painkillers and sent home. As the weeks went by he was getting worse, the painkillers did nothing to ease him. Back to the doctors, stronger pain killers, still they didn't help. More weeks went by, I was incredibly worried he was getting worse. One night at the beginning of April the pain was unbearable for him, his skin was grey and his lips were going blue. I called 999.

    He had 12 further emergency admittances by ambulance from April until the end of May. He was initially told he had an infection and was given co-codamol. He was mis-diagnosed again in the beginning of April.

    I went into fight mode. I knew this man better than anyone. He was ill and in so much pain, he was on a morphine driver and about to be discharged from hospital with no answers. I logged a formal complaint with the CEO of the hospital. (I also refused to leave the hospital until I was heard). It worked! They phoned the following day. There had been an oversight, somebody had not read his x ray correctly. An emergency same day appointment given. After numerous scans and tests we saw a Respiratory consultant who finally gave an opinion on what it could be. Cancer!

    A shock but finally we were getting somewhere. He could beat this. I had 3 years previously and he was much stronger than me. We just needed to get results and get a plan of action.

    Again the weeks went past, the pain couldn't be managed at home so at the beginning of May he was admitted yet again. He came home for our son's 12th birthday then back in hospital the next day. They had him on some pretty heavy pain killers, morphine and ketamine yet nothing was giving him relief. Things got so bad I moved into the hospital. A camp bed in his room was where I slept for nearly a month.

    Why is it the worst memories are the ones you can recount second by second, blow by devastating blow? I can remember every detail of that day. The day we were told he had Mesothelioma (a terminal asbestos caused cancer). The day my world changed forever.

    We had met 22 years earlier. I was a guarded 20 year old who had been through an extremely abusive relationship for 7 years and was in no way looking for a new one. He was gorgeous! Tall, dark, handsome and oblivious to it. He had no idea of the reaction he would get from women when he walked in a room. He had the most beautiful blue eyes and his smile could make my insides turn to jelly (really cheesy I know, but so true). We got on amazingly. We would sit talking all through the night. Laugh, joke and wind each other up in the funniest ways. Every night after work for about 3 months he would ask to take me out. Every night I said no. On December 8th 1995 that changed and we decided to give it a try.

    It worked! We were just a normal couple. Happy, in love and having fun. He proposed about 9 months later. I said yes but we never set a date. We didn't need to. We loved each other. We were happy as we were. The kids came along, we owned a house, we both had good jobs. Life was good.

    I loved our little family. I also looked forward to the future when the kids were grown and we could enjoy time together again. In the blink of an eye all of that was taken away. In the length of time it took for the consultant to give the diagnosis, our future vanished. I was destroyed. My strong fit gorgeous man was dying.

    I don't think I've ever talked to anyone about how I felt that day. So many feelings and emotions. I felt that I had been picked up, spun round and dropped on my head. I didn't cry at first. I think I was numb with disbelief. In total denial. I was not ready to accept there was nothing they could do for him. I was not prepared to lose the man I loved, the father of my children, a man who still had so much life to live. I had never given up or quit on anything before and I certainly wasn't going to now. Fight mode kicked in again.

    I didn't know what to do. All I could do was hope. Hope for a miracle, a chance, anything. The consultant mentioned a trial, yes, hope! It was being run by Guys and St Thomas hospital in London. I would have to move up there for the duration (several months) but that was ok. He was from London. All his family were there. Yes! Finally a solution. My mind was running at a million miles per hour. (I cannot even comprehend what was going through his head). Before we left the hospital that day I had already mentally packed and had it straight in my head what we were going to do. That was so much easier than trying to process the other outcome.

    This was going to work! We were going to beat this!

    He needed chemotherapy to slow down the disease as they wouldn't accept him on the trial if it got beyond a certain point. We just had to be patient and wait. And wait! And wait! The weeks dragged on. He was in so much pain. It had already broken 2 of his ribs. He was on so many heavy duty drugs but nothing touched that pain.

    We were advised by the hospital that if we wanted to get married we needed to do it ASAP. A special licence was granted and in June we were married in his room at the hospital in our jeans and T-shirts, with our children, family and my best friend there. It was perfect! The nurses had put banners up and came in and threw confetti. The dinner ladies bought us a cake and a bottle of wine and the consultant bought us our only wedding present. A set of Mr and Mrs mugs. It didn't matter that I didn't have a dress or a party. All that mattered was us. We spent our first night as man and wife in separate beds which did make us laugh. Despite what was happening we somehow managed to keep our sense of humour although it got more warped than usual on occasion.

    He was finally allowed to come home with The Rowans Hospice taking over his pain management. They were amazing. I can honestly say I would not have survived without them.

    Chemo started at the beginning of July the first of 6 doses. I still don't know why it took so long to start. If only they had started it straight away.! We knew the trial was our only hope and even if accepted there was no guarantee of success. But hope kept us going. He was taken in to The Rowans for pain management. It was during the second stay he had his third round of Chemo and was sent for a CT scan. The results were devastating. He could not be accepted for the trial. They wanted to try radiotherapy to give us time but all hope had gone. After I left him at the hospice that night I cried like I have never cried before. I felt physical pain and was violently sick. I wanted to scream but the children were in bed, I couldn't wake them. Oh no! How on earth do we tell them? I have never before or since been so scared. I was sitting alone in our house. Everything looked normal but nothing was. The next morning I opened a letter. It was dated the day before the scan. He had been accepted on the trial. I tore that damn letter to tiny pieces, burnt it and never spoke of it to him.

    He had radiotherapy several times. Another scan confirmed it hadn't worked and I think that was the point when he accepted what was happening to him. This strong, beautiful courageous man broke down and sobbed. Not for himself but for our children, his mum, our family and for me and all I could do was hold him. I felt utterly useless. After that he declined quickly. He went back to The Rowans and on the day of our eldest child's 18th birthday he begged the doctors to end it. He couldn't take the pain anymore. He was exhausted. With no hope he had nothing left.
    They sedated him just under 2 weeks later and on Saturday 5th November 2016 just as the fireworks started the man I loved passed peacefully away.

    We have just had the fourth anniversary. So why after four years has this year been so hard? My daughter said it was harder for her this year than any other due to what is happening in the world and in part I have to agree. Since last November I have had my first relationship since losing my husband, it started so well and recently ended so badly. I've been through a change in my work environment (like many others) to a complete change of job and with a few hiccups in my home, health and family, everything has snowballed. I cannot wait to see the back of 2020.

    After sending my first ramblings I opened up to a friend, I held nothing back (this is still new to me, telling people how I honestly feel, not just pretending to be ok). He was shocked and saddened to know I had been feeling this way. Even when he last saw me two days before lockdown when we were drunk dancing in my kitchen he had no idea. I hid it well. I guess I am tired of hiding it now. It's exhausting pretending you are ok when you really are not. I'm a pleaser and a fixer by nature and I don't want to worry people or make them miserable with my troubles which is why I keep it in and let it fester. Although very unhealthy.

    I have made a plan for the next two weeks. I am lucky enough to still be working so keeping busy isn't an issue. I am getting my daughter's old bike and this weekend I will be wobbling around the local parks and cycle tracks (I may need stabilizers, it's been about 28 years since I last rode a bike). I have lost nearly a stone in weight in the past month, not through diet, and I am determined it will stay off.

    I have also started to write down everyday 2 positive things from what has happened that day and when I feel low I look at those as a reminder life is not all negative.

    One of my favourite songs is November Rain. It played on the radio today whilst it was extremely miserable outside. The song holds many good memories for me, as well as being played at my husband's funeral. In many ways it's such a sad song but there are two lines, 'Cause nothin' lasts forever. Even cold November rain. I smiled as it played thinking of good times and the irony of how cold and wet it was outside. I am taking the positive from those lines. The bad times won't last forever and the weather will eventually improve.