Moving overseas the hard way

The proportion of people who expressed surprise at our plan to bring Max over to the UK was pretty high. Roughly 98%, I think. 

We can understand this scepticism, and not just because of the cost involved with shipping Max over. After all, one of the reasons we moved overseas was to take advantge of the proximity to Europe and travel to lots of exciting new places. Having a dog complicates that as you can't just get up and go, but have to consider their boarding needs too.

We've rented back in Australia with Max, so understand the complications involved with needing to fnd a pet-friendly property. Luckily, there seem to be fewer ads over here for places that specify "NO PETS", so there's one advantage there. And we even managed to talk our current landlords into allowing "a little white, fluffy thing", rather than the big German shepherd who previously lived in the house and managed to destroy lots of it. Of course, we had to pay a heft deposit but at least we'll get that money back when we move out. 

Another complication here is that most people live in flats or shared housing. This means that there were not many houses with enclosed gardens available for us to rent, or at least none in our price range. We did see a number of houses with "garden" listed on the ad, but when we inspected these were little scraps of grass between the front gate and the front door that were barely bigger than Max himself.

Our place has a patch of grass outside the front that we can possibly fence off and leave Max in while we are out, but of course that is not necessarily an option this time of year (it's currently -1 degree, at 3.30pm).  Leaving Max inside while we are at work isn't an option either, as it's not fair to him or us. He's usually okay home by himself, but yesterday I popped out to the supermarket for just over an hour, and came home to find he had pulled down one of the curtains in the living room (amazingly not damaging anything). 

Today, though, our problems seem to have been alleviated somewhat as we found a lovely lady who runs a doggy day care place. She came over to visit Max, and they hit it off immediately. After going mental over her smelly jacket for five minutes, then rolling on his back and kicking his legs in the air, Max ended up falling asleep with his head on her foot. We're used to seeing Max grovel to other people and act like they are the coolest things in the world, so we weren't offended. 

But she likes Max, and is able to pick him up each morning and drop him off each afternoon. This will minimise the amount of time he has alone so he won't fret as much, and will be less tempted to pull down the curtains.

It can be challenging having a dog to look after, especially when he tries your patience a million times a day.

But when you glance over and see him sleeping sweetly in his basket, looking like a white, fluffy angel, it's easy to forgive the rest.  

The promised photos

Hi everyone.

This is a quick post before we head off to our Christmas with AD tomorrow. We will be out of email contact until the 27th, but here are some photos that we've been promising for a while now. 

The first one of Max was taken yesterday when we took a bus trip out to Seton Sands. It's on the seaside, at the end of the bus line, and would be a nice destination during summer. Yesterday, however, it was blowing such a fierce gale that at times we were involuntarily doing bad impressions of Marcel Marceau.

Max looking windswept and interesting.

Max's trenchcoat. It's his first day in Scotland, hence the slightly stunned look. 

View of our house from the other side of the Water of Leith. Our house is one half of the cottage on the right-hand side of the picture.

Entrance to our private pathway. We have both, on separate occasions, gone right past the gate when walking home. 

Anyhow, we hope everyone has a great Christmas. Eat lots, give lots of presents, and enjoy the warm weather.

Max's saga

Hi everyone.

Good news first - I got a job! It's only a temporary job, for January, but they are holding interviews next month to make the position permanent. I'm hoping that having acted in the role for January will help in the interview stakes.  Then again, I might discover that I don't actually like the job and decide not to apply. But regardless, I'm no longer an unemployed layabout. Or at least I won't be come 6 January.  And, G got paid today! Hooray!

Bad news - I bought some camembert from M&S yesterday, and it stank to high heaven. Not a good cheesy smell, but a rotten, toilet-y smell. I returned it today, and offered to let the lady at the counter smell the cheese (ha!). She declined, saying she could smell it from where she was. I won't go into the falling-while-getting-off-the-bus-and-landing-on-the-camembert incident, but the upside to buying rotten cheese was that it didn't matter that half of it was ruined.

The weather has been yucky the past few days. It's been rainy and windy, the kind of windy that blows your umbrella inside out. Apparently there are forecasts of sleet for today, which wouldn't be surprising. I was going to pop into town to meet G and his work buddies for a drink, but the prospect of leaving the house at the moment is rather unappealing. 

So, I thought it would timely to fill you in on Max's journey from Brisbane to Edinburgh. His plane left at about 1pm, and arrived in Singapore about eight hours later. He was due to meet up with the connecting flight, from Melbourne, to take him the rest of the way to Heathrow. Unfortunately, that flight was delayed for over seven hours due to mechanical problems, which meant poor Max had to wait, in his crate, for that flight to arrive in Singapore. Due to quarantine restrictions, pets are not permitted to leave their crates at any point on the trip or they will not be allowed to enter the UK. The crates are locked, and there is a little funnel which feeds down to a small water dish, and this is topped up in transit.  

Unfortunately, the lengthy delay meant that we were racing against time to collect Max from quarantine and make it back to Euston station for our train to Edinburgh. When we made our train booking, Max was due to arrive at 5.25am. The pet transport people advised that he should be ready to pick up at 11am, so we were confident that booking the train trip home for 4.45pm should be fine. G was in London for work, and I came down too to pick up Max and meet up with G back at Euston. 

However, the delay meant that Max's flight did not arrive until 1pm. The pet transport company was good enough to call us about this delay, and told us that Max should be processed by 2.30-3pm. The Animal Reception Centre where Max was to be collected is right next to Heathrow, a good hour on the tube from central London, so making it back in time for the 4.45pm train would hinge on luck and no delays.

We stayed with Megan and Brett, who were very helpful finding buses and trains etc to get me to the ARC. The tube system in London is very good, provided there are no delays, and it's quite easy finding one's way around. I caught the tube out to Hatton Cross, the station before Heathrow, and then a bus from the station. The buses are also great, as they have a displaysaying which stop is coming up next. My stop was called "Animal Reception Centre", so there was no amibguity about where to get off the bus. 

I had envisioned the ARC as a cold, draughty warehouse, but thankfully it was far from that, with heating and comfortable couches. I arrived just after 1pm, and there was a man already there talking to the reception lady. He said something about a delayed flight, so I piped up that I was waiting for the same plane. The lady said that the plane had landed, and they were waiting for the animals to be shipped over from the tarmac.  

The man and I ended up waiting for two hours for our pets to be processed. He was English, and had just moved back to the UK after six years in Australia, and was waiting for his two cats. He said that he and his wife weren't excited about the cost involved with shipping them back, but the only excuse they could think of to tell the kids was that the cats had been stolen. Not entirely convincing. Anyhow, it was good to have someone else to chat with while waiting. He also called Qantas to see what the delay was caused by, which was handy to know.

Several people came and went while we were waiting, picking up their animals. Most of these were dogs, but one particularly excited gentleman picked up a bowl of goldfish. I would have thought that one goldfish was pretty much interchangeable with another, but clearly he sees something deeper with his pets.

At around 2.30pm, a man popped out to let us know that all the pets had come off the flight and were out of their crates, and asked us who we were waiting for. I was so relieved when he said that Max was fine, as part of me had always been concerned that something would happen to him on the flight, given his heart murmur. He also asked what breed Max was, as they were all wondering. 

Finally, at just after 3pm someone came out to give me papers to sign....and then Max appeared. He was so much fluffier than last time I saw him, and quite happy, though this might have been because he was finally out of the crate after nearly 30 hours. 

But pleasantries had to be put aside as we had just over 90 minutes to get back into town. We got a cab to Terminal 4, then popped on the Heathrow Connect back into Paddington Station. We arrived here at about 4.20, leaving 25 minutes to travel four tube stations to Euston Square and make the short walk to Euston station. Easy, right?

Not when you're relying on the underground. The train was about five minutes late, and then that train terminated at the next station, meaning I had to wait for the next train. Unfortunately, I arrived at Euston station seven minutes too late, and we missed the train. G had been able to cancel the tickets, so we didn't lose that money, but it did mean we had to buy full-priced train tickets back to Edinburgh, about 40 pounds more than we had originally paid. However, it was still cheaper than getting him flown up to Edinburgh, which was the point of the exercise.

Travelling with Max is certainly an experience, as he attracts smiles, comments and conversation from fellow travellers. Max even inspired someone to start a conversation on the tube, which I understand is a rareity in London.    

Anyhow, that's the update of Max's journey. I did plan to post some photos of Max in his stylish trench coat, but G has the camera at work so I can't. Soon, though!

Brief encounter

Hello, all.

A quick note to say that, no, we haven't lost our computer or forgotten about the other side of the world. It's just been one of those weeks. I've spent most of my time on-line applying for jobs and sending my CV off to any company that looks halfway decent, and therefore relish time out from behind the keyboard. G's been busy at work, and when he's home has preferred to watch old Dollar videos on Youtube rather than update the blog.

But hopefully things will change soon. After wallowing in self-pity and despondency for the past few weeks over my job(less) situation, the sun finally broke through the clouds today. I received three (3) invitations to attend job interviews, as well as being asked to meet with a recruiter. One of the job interviews was unexpected, as I had interviewed with them last week only for all of us to realise that my lack of stats experience would be a hinderance. However, they called specifically to ask me to interview for another position, which is a huge ego boost. 

G bought me some dark chocolate orange clusters to celebrate. More celebration will follow on Friday when he receives his first pay since starting his new job. I much prefer being paid on a fortnightly basis, but the usual thing here seems to be monthly payment. 

In other news, Max has settled in well and is enjoying snoozing next to the radiator. Dogs in Scotland must be a lot uglier than him, as he attracts many smiles and comments from passers-by. It might be his stylish trench coat, though.

Night to all.   

Tripping around.

Hello. G here. Can I say that's it nice to be back blogging after a break? Can I? Hang on ......yep, I've just confirmed it. Wasn't very difficult at all. I'd like to second C.'s comments re: broadband cost and speed. Tres good.
As mentioned in a previous post, I went to London for a work Christmas party. Fairly standard: lots of people getting extremely drunk at the company's expense. No one else wanted to leave at the tame hour of half past midnight but I managed to find my way back to the hotel by myself despite having only the vaguest of notion of where I was. The hard core partiers woke me with drunken shouting outside my room at about 5:30 later that morning. I assume not lot of work was done anywhere in the company the next day. The highlight of the night was the upstairs bar at the party venue where most things were made from ice, including the furniture and the "glasses". Only one of the wait staff was Australian though, contrary to what I had been led to expect and she was originally a Kiwi anyway.
Moving in to our new house the next day was the easiest move that we've ever done, although C may disagree as she copped the worst of it lugging suitcases etc on the two bus trips from Portobello.
Friday of last week we went to see Jarvis Cocker in concert. I am very chuffed to have crossed this one of my UK trip to do list so early, and although it wasn't as good as I hoped it would be, it was about as good as I expected. The support acts were very ordinary as well and in fact the highlight of the night was "The Drunk Girl".
I have never before seen anyone that drunk and still moving. We first saw her while queuing up outside before the concert (for about an hour, mind you, and it was bloody cold). Just to set the scene, she was about 30ish, blonde, wearing a flimsy black dress totally unsuited to the elements, high heels and with a friend in a similar condition. She first staggered past us down the street and then a bit later back the other way. She wasn't walking so much as swaying for a few seconds until overbalancing in a random direction, falling sideways for a few steps until hitting a wall, her friend or (thankfully) the guard rails next to the road. It was something like a combination of B western movie death scene and a footballer on Dancing with the Stars.
Her friend wasn't quite so obviously squiffy.
We watched them stagger into a bar not far down the road, only to be (presumably) evicted a short time later. Our drunker friend then decided to call it a belated night and began attempting to flag down some transport home. Flag down buses. At night. On a very busy road. By walking out in front of them. Again and again.
Thankfully her friend kept pulling her back to the footpath, but it was breathtaking to watch bus after bus screech to halt and hitting the horn. They then started trying to flag down cabs, firstly trying to get into two different full ones that had stopped at the lights and then two different empty ones where the drivers decided the fares weren't worth the risk of having to clean up the cab. The last we saw of them, before we went in to the theatre, the less drunk girl had fallen down into the gutter and stopped moving.
We both agreed that both of them, but the staggerer in particular, would be a bit ordinary in the next morning. Assuming they made it through the night.
Anyway, I'm all typed out now and and it's bed time. Much more to tell soon.
Bye for now.
P.S. Don't forget to read C's post as well just before this one.

Back in action

Hi everyone!

Well, we now have proof of just how inferior Australian internet providers are. On Thursday at lunchtime I called up a teleco company and put in an order for broadband to be connected at our house. I was told that it would probably take about 6 days (note: days, not working days) to connect, and I later received a text message confirming this time frame.

However, at 9am the next morning I received another text message informing me that our broadband was now connected. And it was. That's less than 24 hours connection time, which is something that I guarantee no Australian internet company could match.

Further, we are paying 12.50 GBP/month for our internet, which includes unlimited (!) downloads, and up to 8meg download speed. Wow, so impressed.

So we have been in (totally legal) download heaven, catching up on all of our shows. It's absolutely fantastic.

In other news, the most important news of the trip, Max arrives on Wednesday morning! Yahoo! We bought him a new basket, some food bowls, a new collar and lead (just in case his didn't make the whole trip through from Australia), and a stylish fawn mackintosh with a tartan wool lining. We stopped short of getting him some faux seude boots, but if the cold, wet pavements are really not to Max's liking that could be a Christmas present. Although, frankly, he doesn't deserve any more presents ever considering the cost of importing him.

Collecting Max requires both of us to head down to London, though luckily G was due to be there anyway for work. I have the duty of catching the tube nearly out to Heathrow, getting a cab from Hatton Cross station to the Animal Reception Centre, picking up the dog, getting a cab back to Hatton Cross, escorting Max on the tube to Kings Cross, then walking to Euston Station where we are getting the long distance train back to Edinburgh. It will certainly be an experience to travel with Max on the tube, the train and through the streets of London. Here's hoping he doesn't mouth off to too many passers-by.

Anyhow, we're able to import Max because we have moved into our own house. It's great to have our own place again, though it's half the size of our house back in Australia. This is, though, the norm here as people don't have the same sense of space as Australians do (although it's nowhere near as close as in Germany - we haven't had to "accidentally" step backwards onto the toes of people queueing right on our heels). Anyhow, our house is a converted cottage, next to the Water of Leith, and in the shadows of the Murrayfield Stadium. This is excellent, as we both follow rugby with a passion second to none.

This is the outside of our house:

I tried to upload more photos, but Blogger won't let me. You'll just have to wait for them sometime in the future.

Anyway, tomorrow I have a job interview so I'm crossing my fingers for that and am off to do some research on the higher education sector in Scotland. Wish me luck!

A quickie

Hi. G here.

Just a quick note to say that we'll probably have a brief hiatus of blogging for a few days until we get broadband set up at our new place. Lots to tell, though.
Bye for now.

Moving!

Usually, the thought of moving house fills me with dread. It's a hideous process, mostly because my luck with the weather means that it will either be the hottest day of the year, or pouring down (or both, as occurred during one memorable move).

Tomorrow, however, we are moving into our new house, which we've been looking forward to for about three weeks. It was three weeks and one day ago that we moved into our temporary accommodation, and first encountered the Most Uncomfortable Bed Ever. Seriously, this bed is terrible. I don't know if the owners of this place went out of their way to find the worst bed they could, but they certainly succeeded regardless. For starters, it creaks every time either one of us so much as breathes. The mattress has lumps and bumps poking out all over the place, although to be fair I'm now accustomed to the spring that digs into my rib cage. Finally, it's a double bed, which isn't good for two people who are both over 5'10" and don't like to share. We both wake up each morning with bags under our eyes, and accusing the other of having hogged the bed during the night. G also attributes his daily caffeine consumption to the bed, which is fair enough.

Therefore, even if we were moving into an absolute dive, leaving this bed behind would be reason enough to leave.

G has gone to London today for his work Christmas party. I know. Not fair - start work one week, and get flown to London the next week to hobnob at a wholly-catered function, and get put up at a nice hotel. Meanwhile I get to stay here, and pack and clean. The only upside is that I get the whole bed to myself, and will hog it without feeling the least bit guilty.

We're meeting the landlords at the house tomorrow at 12.30 to sign the lease, pay our rent, and get the keys. G will stop by on his way back from the airport, and in a fortunate piece of luck the Airlink Bus stops right outside our house. In further evidence of the excellent bus system here, I can get on the bus right outside our current place and catch it across town at our new place. This is also good, because we'll be moving house by bus. With such a good bus route, there was no justification for catching a cab there.

However, it does mean that I have to take two trips there and back. Although we arrived in Edinburgh with two suitcases and two carry-on bags in total, we've somehow managed to accumulate so much more stuff in three weeks. Today, G took in to work a full suitcase and a couple of bags of shoes, which he will bring home tomorrow evening. I valiantly tried this morning to cram everything else we have into my suitcase and my carry-on bag, in the hope that I might only have to make one journey tomorrow. No dice, unfortunately, so it's buses galore for me!

I'm also trying to eat as much food from the fridge today, so had ten sticks of celery, an apple, and vegemite on toast for lunch, and will boil two eggs for tea. Yum! I also drank the last of the Irn Bru, which was delightful.

Sunday is St Andrew's Day, which is the Scottish equivalent of Australia Day. Consequently, Friday is Wear Your Kilt to Work Day, so hopefully G will encounter many patriotic Scots at work. On Saturday, we saw a man in BHS wearing a kilt as if it was the most normal thing in the world, and it probably was for him. When we were in Germany, we saw many (older) men wearing Lederhosen, although this kilt-wearing gentleman was about thirty years younger. Those crazy Scots.

Much love

Bits and bobs

Hiya. It's C here.

Apologies for the silence of late. G started work on Wednesday, and I've been spending pretty much all day on the computer trying to find a job, so the thought of spending more time online has been too depressing. But it's time for an update, though this one won't be with the photos that I had promised my parents. The camera's in the other room and that's just too far to walk at the moment.

So. The good news is that we have a home to move into on Thursday! Hurrah! It's the house that we applied for nearly two weeks ago, so yay that it finally came through. We can't wait to move into our own (rented) place, believe you me.

Unfortunately, this hasn't come without a load of hassle. First of all, it took over a week for the credit check company to carry out their reference check on us. We had to chase up our previous rental agents in Australia to ask them to send back the reference request, which they finally did so this morning, our time. We cheered when we read their email saying that they had completed the reference and faxed it off. The cheering stopped, however, when G received a phone call this morning saying that we'd failed the credit check. Apparently there was no way that we were going to ever pass it because all of our previous details are Australian, not British. We both fail to see how this could be accurate, because that means that no one from un-British backgrounds would ever be able to rent somewhere in the UK. Which is not at all logical. And apparently the credit check company knew from the start that we wouldn't pass their process, but carried it out anyway at the request of the rental agency. Which also knew that we'd never pass it, but still made us go through and pay for it.

The upshot of this situation was that we'd have to give up the idea of renting this place, pay six months rent upfront or get a UK guarantor. The only logical option is the six months rent one, because it's likely we'd fail any credit check with other people if we applied for a rental property elsewhere. And we're tired of living in two rooms separated by a communal corridor. Six months rent would wipe out a lot of our savings. When G called to relay the news to me I was in Debenhams shopping for desperately-needed winter wear, but put all the clothes in my arms back on the racks (this was despite their storewide 25%-off sale). We were both mentally recalculating our plans for the near future, partly because G won't get paid until the 20th of December.

Needless to say, when I dropped into the rental agency to say we'd go with the six months option, I was short with them (when I really wanted to dramatically throw a cup of steaming coffee at Chris, the smarmy 19 year-old). Anyhow, he said he'd pass our details onto the landlord who would contact us directly to arrange the lease signing etc. So we never have to deal with him again! Double hurrah!

When our new landlady called G this arvy, he suggested that perhaps we could pay only three months up front...? Luckily for us, she agreed! Triple hurrah! So that's taken the pressure off things, and we were both able to relax somewhat tonight, instead of stressing about money.

Aside from housing issues, over the past week I've been hitting the job hunting path hard. It's a hideous process. How do you encapsulate your skills and experience into a handy 200-word summary, particularly when you don't have skills and experience that neatly fall into a pre-defined category? I've applied for jobs that I know I can do, but proving this in my application is hard. I can only hope my skills of persuasive writing are still working.

I hope everyone's holding up under the "rain" of terror (ha ha!) that Brisbane's been subjected to recently. It puts our 3 degrees (not including wind chill!) to shame.

Much love

Hello all, it's G here. We've been out shopping (again!) and back home a bit earlier than usual. I must say that the novelty of the big red Number 26 double decker bus into the city has worn off almost completely. Hopefully, we'll get word soon about the house we've applied to rent and then we'll be a lot closer into the city (and catch the Number 26 from the other direction). Actually, our new place, if we get it, is only about a 20min walk to work in Princes St so I think I'll be doing that mostly.
On a side note, only one more day of freedom until I'm back at work, although I shouldn't complain too much as I haven't worked since the beginning of July. It'll be good to have the moula rolling in again.

Yesterday, Kitty and I forswore (if that's the word I want) bus travel and decided to walk to the Holyrood park. It was only about 7 degrees but very calm and sunny so was really delightful. For much of the way, we walked along a delightful little stream with the not so delightful name of Figate Burn. It looked very clean and healthy apart from being the final resting place of quite a few bricks and bottles and assorted rubbish. But clean rubbish.

I really wanted to have a good look at Duddingston Loch which is in the southeast area of the park. We elected to walk to the south and west of the loch, which seemed to be the most scenic route from looking at our map, however it turned out that our view was mostly blocked by trees and then by a very long high stonewall. We saw a squirrel, though.
The wall was actually one of two that border a disused railway line, now a cycle path, called the Innocent railway. It was called this because the trains were initially horse drawn, in an 'innocent' age, when it was thought that steam engines were dangerous.
It's quite a long isolated path and as we seemed to be the only people on it for some time, Kitty was continuously looking behind us for potential muggers or other people of ill intent.
We made it to the park unscathed, however, and were amazed by the number of people crawling like ants up the hills and along the cliffs. Also some people in shorts and t-shirts doing sprints up a hill. Nutbags.

We eventually had lunch outside the Scottish parliament and then went to an exhibtion next door called Our Dynamic Earth, where we got to go in a time machine (elevator) to just before the big bang and then be flown in a spaceship (walk) through a series of rooms about the geology, climate, biodiversity etc of the earth (including an entirely plastic and animatronic rainforest). At the end of the exhibition, we went on a time trip to the future (this time more like a movie theatre rather than an elevator), which we got to democatically choose along with everyone else in the time machine with 2 voting buttons on our chairs. I found the options for the potential futures to therefore be annoyingly dualistic. After leaving the time machine, one walks straight into the gift shop where, strangely enough, I immediately started looking for the didgeridoos. Obviously, I've been to too many theme parks/museums in Australia.
Overall the exhibition was kind of fun, but probably not 9 pounds worth of fun.

We ended up getting a bus home as we were sick of walking by then. For dinner, we thought it would be a great idea to get fish and chips. A lot of great ideas are not so great in hindsight, and this was one of them. Greasy battered haddock and moist chips did not an enjoyable meal make and neither of us finished more than half of our portions before binning them.

On a brighter note, we've bought tickets to see Jarvis Cocker in concert next Friday. Woohoo!!
Also, I'm not ashamed to say that I'm a big fan of the Proclaimers, and a musical based on their music, 'Sunshine on Leith', will be playing here shortly and we are (I am) revved up about going. Seeing the musical will, I think, almost be as good as seeing Craigie and Charlie in concert. Given that my two music based goals for living in the UK are to see Jarvis Cocker and the Proclaimers in concert, I'm over the moon about how quickly things are moving. (On a side note, we've been to Leith and it seems like a dump. Maybe it's nicer in summer)

That's about all from me.
Bye for now.
G.

Brush with fame!

C here, y'all.

Yesterday we went to Rosslyn Chapel, made famous in The Da Vinci Code as the final resting place of Mary Magdalene, the Holy Grail (spoiler for that one person out there who hasn't read the book or seen the film). It is a very pretty chapel, but there is a canopy built over it to keep out the rain and snow, which really mars the visual impact of the exterior. The chapel inside is very ornate, with carvings crammed onto every possible surface. You could spend a month inside the chapel and still find new things to look at. We got a tour, and the guide seemed a bit reluctant to mention the DVC, even though most of the people wouldn't have been there if it hadn't been for the book. The conservation fund is working to restore the chapel, which is admirable, but they're also putting in a conference centre, restaurant, discovery centre and viewing platform with the money raised, so as to "enhance" the tourist experience. Hmmm.

For me, sadly, one of the more thrilling discoveries at Rosslyn was made while looking at the visitor book. I turned back through the pages to see if any Australians had visited recently, and noted that visiting the previous day was The Hon. Mark Vaile former Deputy PM of Australia. Seriously, that's how he signed his name. Unless he was there on official duty, which I doubt, it really smacks of desperation to do that. But, I noted down his address and will send a letter advising him not to do that in future.

G made an important purchase yesterday of a winter coat and some gloves. It's been a long time coming, but he bit the bullet and bought a schmick black coat from River Island (which he kept calling River Island Naturist Park for some reason). The salesgirl was very friendly, but asked the inevitable question "Why on earth did you move to Edinburgh?" (This question is usually followed by "And why did you swap the lovely Australian summer for our horrid winter?") Today we're going shopping for more clothes, specifically work gear for G, as he starts on Wednesday (at the civilised time of 9.30).

Had more sagas with the rental agent over our application. Suffice to say, we heard from him that we had failed the credit check because our previous addresses were all Australian as were our bank account details, which means tht no one who moves to the UK from a foreign country could ever rent somewhere to live. He insisted that any foreign person they deal with at their company either pays six months rent up front or finds a UK citizen to act as guarantor for them. We both found this hard to believe. G contacted the credit check company directly and was told that, no, we haven't actually failed the credit check as they still hadn't contacted our previous landlord in Brisbane for a reference. G called back to tell this to the real estate agent, who then tried to claim he knew all along that the credit check company was still waiting to make their decision. Hmmm, not sure I believe him on that. Anyhow, we're still hopeful of getting this place to rent, and hopefully will found out something soon!

Much love

Touristing

Hello, C. here.

Today, we played the roles of tourists. G's likely to start work on Wednesday next week, so we're going to knock over a few tourist destinations before then. Unfortunately, most of these are located in the Old Town, around the Royal Mile...which means walking downhill, only to have to climb up again. We were both pooped by 4pm, when we were heading back to the bus stop to head to Sainsbury's. Pathetic? Maybe, but then you aren't sleeping in our incredibly uncomfortable, small bed. Yeah.


Anyhow, we went to the Queen's Gallery, and happened to be there on the first day of a new exhibition of Italian Baroque paintings. They were really impressive, and you could stand literally 2mm from the paintings (or closer, if you want your eyeball to touch the canvas). The talent of the painters was remarkable and unmistakeable, and we were both really affected by how realistic they were. I was quite excited to be so close to a Caravaggio. Not sure why exactly, but yeah.


After the gallery, we popped over to Holyrood Palace, which was right next door. This is the Queen's official residence in Scotland, and only one of three such residences she has. Building started in the early 1100s, and Charles II and Mary Queen of Scots lived there, among other monarchs. We saw Mary's quarters, including the room in which she was dining when her husband burst in with some flunkeys, dragged the Italian ambassador away and stabbed him 56 times (and we also saw the spot on which his body was left including, I swear, the blood stains!). The highlight was undoubtedly a miniature portrait of Charles II, around which Mary had embroidered a decorative border in her own hair. I guess during the long winter nights you made your own entertainment.


I'll end this post with a photo of a menu item we could have chosen today for lunch, but did not.

Things

It’s G here. C pointed out that it’s our blog and not just her blog so I’m taking a turn. It’s been a bit warmer here today, maybe around 8, and quite calm unlike the last few days so seemed comparatively balmy. I still need to get an overcoat and gloves, but having some difficulty in forking out 170 pounds for a coat, which seems to be what I’ll be needing to pay for anything decent (i.e. it’ll keep me warm). Obviously, I’ve assimilated the stereotypical Scottish thriftiness quite quickly. No doubt the dropping temperatures will force the issue.

Things: I landed a job today with the TrainLine (hooray) although I’m a bit apprehensive now as I’ve just read C’s previous post about what she’ll do when I get a job. Hopefully, it won’t rage too out of control. The office is right in the middle of Edinburgh with views of the castle, which is nice, and is about 25 min walk to our place that we have applied for (fingers crossed we’ll get it).

The girl from the agency through whom I found the job asked me if I was having any trouble understanding Scottish accents and I replied, ‘Not really’, and added that we got a reasonable amount of British shows on TV in Australia so we were used to all sorts of British accents. She, and her colleague, looked at me as I if I had said I enjoyed wallpapering fish. I don’t really know why what I said could have produced that reaction, but the meaning of communication is the response you get so I guess there was a glitch somewhere. Further to this, when I got a call from her to let me know that I had the job, she said that she would shout me lunch. I light heartedly responded with, “Ooh, I hope it’s somewhere nice like McDonalds or Burger King”, to which the slightly shocked and earnest response was, “Oh no! It’ll be fine dining.” Maybe my delivery is off….
Speaking of off things, when we were doing the rounds of the op shops in Portobello looking for 2nd hand coats, C accidently stepped in something unmentionable. Let’s just say the dog sitting at the entrance to the florist we had just passed was looking guilty but somehow subtly triumphant. As a consequence, only I went into the last op shop on the way, C considerately not wanting to contaminate a heated and closed up room. No good on the clothes front, but I overheard an interesting snippet of conversation from the two ladies who worked there.
“Hae yea nor tried Guinness, then?”
“Aye, I hae tried it. Ah don’ laike the tairste but ut’s fool o’ vitamins soo ah drunk ut wharle ah wass preegnunt”
(Apologies for this poor attempt at a phonetic representation of an Edinburgian accent (Edinburgh-ite? Edinburgher? What do you call someone from Edinburgh, anyway?))

Speaking (writing) of accents, I caught a cab the other day after a job interview out in the sticks, and when I jumped in the car, the cabbie said something like “Weerdablochnaeglochennow?” (or similar). I sat thinking furiously for a few seconds trying to translate what he had just said into ‘Strine, after which, watching me blinking and staring, he felt prompted to helpfully add, “Gillblanegoonoddabumudlee?”. I made a cognitive leap and said, “Livingston North train station”, which seemed to satisfy him and that’s where we ended up so I’m guessing I leapt in the right direction. We ended up overcoming our communication problems sufficiently during the journey for him to learn where I was from and, like a lot of locals we have spoken to, express disbelief that we had chosen to leave an Australian summer to come to a Scottish winter. I don’t think that they realise what a sticky, debilitating and overpowering heat is a part of a Brisbane summer. Things are always greener.

Tomorrow we are planning on going to Holyrood castle and abbey ruins. I found out today that “rood” means cross, which has cleared things up greatly. I still think “Holyrood” sounds like some sort of sacred object, the absolute rudest possible, worshipped by a devoted bunch of really rude people.

That’s about all for the moment, however, I’ve just realised that I haven’t talked much about C in this entry so I think I should mention that she is, of course, as always, quite wonderful and the best companion I could have on this adventure.
Bye for now,

First priorities

G made the point yesterday that it's a stressful thing to move to a new country. Concurrently, you are moving house, finding a new place to live, working out which are the good areas of town, finding work, opening new bank accounts, registering for the equivalent of tax file numbers, navigating different protocols for various things, and generally just figuring out what on earth is going on.

Doing any one of these things is a handful; doing all of them at the same time is madness. It's probably good that we didn't think too long and hard about this before we left. Of course, we realised that we'd have to be doing all of these things, and we didn't assume that things would fall blithely into place without any hassles. However, I don't think that we should have thought too hard about all this otherwise the instinct to take the path of least resistance might have kicked in, and we might have stayed. It's only been a week, but we don't have any regrets so far (this might change once the cold weather kicks in).

The good news is that G has a third interview for a job today, and according to the HR rep this one is more-or-less a formality before he's offered the job. We can only hope! We put in an application for a place to rent yesterday, so having one of us employed would certainly smooth things over in that regard. I don't want to write too much about the place we applied for, because I don't want to jinx things....hopefully there will be more to come shortly.

So, on to the title of this post - our (or probably my) priorities. I am sick already of all the clothes that I brought. The suitcase looked big when it was empty, but it feels like I have about three outfits now, and I'm tired of all of them. Pleased as I am with my 3.25 pound op shop coat, I don't really want to build of wardrobe of second hand clothing. So, for me, a priority is getting more clothes! There are plenty of shops here, almost, it seems, more than back in Brisbane. And I love winter clothing, so it seems to be perfect, really. The minute that G hears about a successful job offer, I'm hitting the shops to buy up big!

Some interesting observations:

• Scottish people love their gambling. It seems that there are two or three betting agencies on each street, and there are many, many different ones to choose from (including, inevitably, one called "McBet"). Bingo halls are also popular, but one must be a member in order to play. There are also various small private casinos, which is bizarre for someone from a city with only one, giant casino.
• You can't move without coming across Australians, which is almost disappointing - weren't we supposed to be the only Australians in Edinburgh? We went to a tiny cafe in the outskirts of Edinburgh, and were served by a bloke with a broad Aussie accent. We also came across a Brisbanite in the local pub, who greeted us with "Team Brisbane!" when we went back there yesterday. As G observed, when you meet someone in Australia, the first question is usually "What do you do?" When you meet a fellow Aussie over here, you ask instead "Where are you from?"
• They slug renters a lot more here than in Australia. We had to pay a 175 pound application and credit check fee when we applied for this place, which is non-refundable regardless of whether you are successful or not. Plus, each property is charged a monthly Council Tax, for things like rubbish removal, road upkeep etc - essentially council rates. However, WE have to pay this fee, not the landlord, which is a bit rough. Ads for rental places do not include this in the monthly rent, so you have to ask what the council charge is - luckily our current landlords alerted us to this, or else we would have had no idea about this when the first bill arrived.

Anyhow, better go...

Much love

Hello again

Hi there, it's C here.

I had thought I was over my jetlag, but I collapsed in a heap at 8.00 last night, and then of course woke up really early this morning. So far, it's 9pm and I'm doing okay. G seems to be over his pretty well by now, so that's good for him.

Over the past few days, we've been trying to find somewhere to live. This has involved taking buses back and forth across the city, and luckily the bus network is pretty comprehensive. The bus company that we use has a cheap all-day ticket which we are glad to take advantage of, and it's pretty exciting to sit on the top level of the bus (though not so fun trying to climb down the stairs while the bus is moving).

It's been a bit tricky to work out where to live, as we don't know the city at all. We caught the bus out to the west area on Saturday and liked the look of it. An estate agent we talked to said that, yes, the west is the good area of town. Our current landlord said that it would be pretty clear when we entered a dodgy part of the city, and that's proven correct too so far. On Saturday afternoon we went to look at a house in a not-so good area, and the agent was kind enough to drive us to look at another house, and then dropped us in town. He also gave tips about areas to look at, including the advice to avoid the suburb of "Niddrie", which sounds dodgy anyway.

This agent also explained the reasons for the high level of road works on at the moment. Apparently last year the city council wanted to introduce a congestion tax like the one in London. They put this to the popular vote, and it was soundly trounced at the polls because most people weren't keen on paying 6 pounds each time they drove into the city. The council was none too pleased about this defeat, so they gave blanket approval to every application for road works they had received. As a consequence, there are 392 different construction sites on Edinburgh's road network, so I hope the council is happy with their success.

Anyhow, back to our house hunting: we saw two nice properties today, but one had a tiny kitchen, while the other was too expensive. We have our fingers crossed for another one tomorrow, but we shall see. We have another week here at our self-catering flat, though the lack of connecting door between the bedroom and the kitchen is wearing a bit thin. I don't think we will feel properly settled in Edinburgh until we find a place to rent and call our own (and we have Maxi with us).

In other news, G had a job interview today, and then has a second for the same job tomorrow at 1pm. I waited at Starbucks with coffee as it was rather cold outside. The heating must be broken at Starbucks, as I had to put my coat on. Today has probably been the coldest day so far, with bone-chilling wind and a sharp rain in the afternoon. It's going to take a bit to get used to the early nights, because it is dark at 5pm yet feels much later.

We found a public swimming pool (and Turkish baths) about two minutes walk from our place, so we had a swim on Sunday. It was a novel experience being in the 'fast' lane, though to be honest no one else was in it for half the time. Saturday afternoon was spent exploring the Royal Mile, which seems to consist mainly of ghost tours, Loch Ness Monster tours, and shops selling traditional Scottish fare such as kilts, bagpipes and tartan cigarette lighters. We scoured these stores for the tartan of most interest to us (you know the one...), but only located a family crest in one shop. At the top of the Royal Mile near the castle was a tartan mill museum, so we popped inside expecting more luck. There was none to be had - we asked a shop assistant whether they had any of this tartan and she said that it "wasn't very popular." They clearly don't appreciate quality. She brought up a picture of the tartan on a computer with a small blurb about the family history, and offered to print it out for five pounds (we declined). We assume that they would make up a kilt in the tartan if we ordered it, but if they charge five quid for a piece of paper I shudder to think of the price of a whole outfit.

G has yet to get a proper coat, but considering today's brutal weather it won't be long until that situation is rectified. I shall also get a proper coat (that is a bit more stylish than my current 3 pound coat, though it is a pretty warm jacket), and some winter boots.

Not much else going on, as we spend a lot of our time poring over maps of Edinburgh and the bus route to find the next rental property to view. Hopefully we'll have some good news to report soon.

Much love

The Journey: Pt 2

Hello again.



So, after being met by Megan at Heathrow, we caught the Heathrow Connect to Paddington Station. It was rather surreal to be on the train, which was above-ground, because it illuminated the fact that we were actually in a foreign country now. Spending 25 hours on a plane doesn't necessarily make you feel that you've actually gone anywhere, but travelling through the suburbs of London brought home the reality of the change that we've made to our lives. Catching a black London cab from Paddington to Megan and Brett's home made the experience even more exciting. Unfortunately, though not surprisingly - it was about 4.30 by the time we got in the cab - the traffic was pretty heavy, although we travelled past some landmarks, like 22b Baker Street...and I'm sure there were others too.



Anyway, it was a relief to make our way up to Megan and Brett's sixth-floor loft, which has a sloping ceiling and a view across to the financial district, including the Gherkin. A shower never feels better than one had after a long plane journey. I had to down three cups of coffee in about fifteen minutes (not an exaggeration!) to stay awake, while G had a cup of tea. To pass the time before we were due to meet Michelle at a nearby restaurant, Megan introduced us to some wonderful British TV, including the afore-mentioned "Golden Balls" and a Japanese obstacle course show, much like the stupid "Wipeout" that was on Australian television.



It was lovely to see Michelle again, and G & I were given a belated wedding present from the three of them - tickets to a West End show, overnight accommodation in a hotel, and breakfast the next morning, to be taken at a time of our choosing! We're looking forward to the experience.



The jetlag had the effect of making everything anyone said seem really hilarious, which probably just made me seem drunk. The dinner was great, although neither of us were that hungry, and the high cost of eating out in London became clear when the bill arrived. Luckily, the wait staff had failed to factor in the half-price deal that the restaurant had on that night, so it wasn't quite as expensive as it first appeared (but still expensive). Plus, we received free drinks because our meals were late, so all up it was a good dinner.



We were so glad to get to bed and slept immediately, but woke up around 4-ish. We both read for a while, then G went back to sleep while I finished my book. G woke up again around 7am, and we ate breakfast (vegemite on toast - like we never left!) with Brett when he got up. We left the flat at about 8.30, and Brett escorted us to Old Street tube station and made sure we got on the right train. It was only two stops to Kings Cross station, but struggling through the crowds as we made our way to the long-distance trains was not fun. Picking up our tickets was so easy, and because we'd booked on the internet (yay internet!) we were able to skip the long queue of people purchasing their tickets there and then. We had quite a thrill when we looked at the departures board and saw we were on The Flying Scotsman up to Edinburgh. The train was relatively empty (though we still had an encounter with a Mr Grumpy, who ruined the start of the journey), and we both had window seats across a table from each other.



The trip up to Edinburgh was just lovely, and I'd recommend this to anyone travelling between London and Edinburgh. We passed so many iconic British scenes, including canals with barges, white sheep with black feet and faces, actual scarecrows in fields, swans, typical English houses, and rolling green fields. It was just wonderful to see. The train stopped at a number of stations, including Peterborough, York, Newcastle (with the train crossing the Tyne on a spectacularly high bridge), and Darlington. At one point, about an hour before we arrived in Edinburgh, I looked to the right and saw the sea! That was unexpected, and such stunning scenery.



Arriving in Edinburgh, it was cold, but not as cold as we had expected. We caught a cab to our accommodation (we were never going to make the bus, as our landlady had suggested), and had a chat to the cabbie. He was very friendly, but essentially said we were idiots who hadn't thought through our plan to move overseas. So that was a bit of a downer. Our rooms, though, are quite good and our hosts very nice. We have a bedroom with ensuite and a kitchen, and unfortunately they decided last year to try to sell the house and so blocked off the door that was between the two. This means that we have to go out into the communal corridor to get from one room to the other and unlocking the doors, which is a bit of a pain, but nevermind.



We unpacked our suitcases and then went for a wander down the main street of Portabello. The beach at Portabello is a real beach, with actual sand instead of pebbles, but it's still hard to imagine wanting to take a dip in the waters. We bought ingredients from a convenience store (called Kost Konscious, clearly competing with Cost Cutters) for a pasta meal, and some Irn Bru, which is actually pronounced "Iron Bru". After a quick dinner, we went to bed quite early again.



Unfortunately, this meant that G woke up at around 3.30, and me an hour later. We got up at about 5-ish and watched tv, which was wall-to-wall coverage of Obama's victory. Stirring stuff.



Yesterday was spent exploring Princes Street to find a suit for G to wear at his job interviews today. It was starting to drizzle, too, and the rain felt like ice. (We're definitely getting warmer jackets, but will probably get them from a charity shop until we decide (and can afford) to get nicer ones.) G finally found a good suit, and had the trousers taken up. I bought a hat, which made such a difference, and also an umbrella. The highlight of the day, however, was definitely going into McDonald's to see if they had Irn Bru on tap, and they do!



We went back home, after getting some groceries from Morrisons, and then had a nap. We were woken by the sound of intermittent explosions, and remembered that it was Guy Fawkes day! Hurrying outside (it was cold!), we tried to follow the traces of fireworks in the sky, but didn't seem to be getting any closer to them. We ended up heading to the beach, and sure enough, there were a number of bonfires dotted along the shore. People were setting of fireworks, which seemed quite dangerous, and we saw at least one firework backfire. It was pretty special, seeing people celebrating Bonfire Night, and we tried to take photos and video the events.

Anyhow, better go as this is a long post. More tomorrow!

Much love

The Journey: Pt 1

C here.

I'm writing this from our self-catered flat in Edinburgh, watching a game show called "Golden Balls". Yes, it is as intriguing as its title suggests. We arrived here about three hours ago, and drinking hot, caffeinated drinks to fight against the jet-lagged.

The excitement of our overseas odyssey came before we'd even left Brisbane. I went through the security check ahead of G, and after walking through the x-ray thingamy, two security guards whisked me away to a booth for a random sample check and body search. Unfortunately, G didn't see this happen as his backpack had to go through the x-ray machine twice for some reason, and therefore assumed I'd gone through the passport check without him. My sample check (all clear for drugs and explosive residue) and body search (more intimate than your usual pat down) took about five minutes, and when I emerged he was already at the desk having his passport examined. The problem was that G had my passport while I had both our boarding passes, so neither of us could get through customs without the other. I had to skip the queue, which probably annoyed everyone else, but who cares?

The flight from Australia was long, but okay. It left Brisbane at 11.45pm, which I'd hoped would help encourage the sleep, but no luck. G managed to snooze for a while, and I watched several movies. At Singapore, we had a three hour break, and luckily G had enough Singaporean coins left over from his last trip to Germany to buy two bottles of water. Our seats for the flight to Heathrow, which were exactly the same as those on the first leg, were the aisle and middle seat of a three-seater by the window. After we got settled, the window seat in our row continued to remain unoccupied and we became rather excited with the prospect of having three seats to ourselves. Then we noticed that about eight whole rows in our section were empty, and kept our fingers crossed that there wasn't a last-minute influx of passengers. When the plane began reversing away from the gate, we gave a silent cheer, as the idea of comfortable sleep on the plane became a reality. After the first meal was served, I popped a sleeping pill. G wasn't feeling tired, so he moved to the empty row behind ours, while I lay down across our three seats and managed, for the first time ever, to sleep on a plane. Hooray! Later on, G found an empty three-seater on the other side of the plane and slept too.

For some reason, our flight was half an hour early landing at Heathrow, and we were vaguely concerned that we might miss Megan. However, we needn't have worried because border control was soooo busy. I went through the UK passport lane, whereas G had to go through the slower "all other countries" queue, which took about fifteen minutes longer. After he got cleared to enter the country, the passport man told him he could have come through with me, as my spouse. That's good to know for future reference! We must have been some of the last people through, as there were only about ten pieces of luggage left on the carousel, and no one else waiting. I was paranoid that someone had nicked our suitcases because we were late, but thankfully they were still there. We loaded up our trolley, walked through the exit gates, and spotted Megan waiting for us. Yay!

Anyway, that's the first part of the trip from Brisbane to Edinburgh, more to follow...

Much love

Auf Wiedersehen!

So. This is it.

We're leaving for the airpor in one hour. We have managed to pack our lives, for the next two years, into two suitcases, a backpack and a carry-on bag. And a ball of white fluff, who is currently pulling his cousin around by the ear, oblivious to the exciting journey he'll be taking in a few weeks.

Many people have asked me over the past week if I'd packed yet. I know some people like to take their time packing, but both of us prefer to leave it to the day and then cram everything into the suitcase at once. When you're a hoarder like me, who keeps everything on the off-chance they might come in handy one day, the more time left for packing provides more opportunities to convince yourself that, yes, you will need that decorative pen from Employee Services at your old job. And the pair of pink socks with flowers. And the brown burberry scarf, despite having packed five scarves already. Therefore, leaving everything to the last minute helps to avoid arriving at your destination unable to find a pair of clean undies, yet having that brown jumper that you haven't worn in years but brought just in case this trip provokes the desire to wear it.

We dropped Max off at H's, his home for the next few weeks. It was a lump-in-the-throat moment, yet the emotional parting that I'd envisioned was destroyed by Max's discovery of some rawhide. He gave a brief "Yeah, bye" over his shoulder as we left, and pranced off into the shadows. Oh well, can't have it all.

See you on the other side of the planet.

Much love

Farewell..?

The problem with having to postpone travel plans at the very last minute means that people change their plans too. When we were due to leave on 20 September, we had arranged to have farewell drinks with friends the night before, a Friday, and had a fair number of people signed up for the occasion. However, due to certain visa issues (not enough time or space to go into them here, and this is also intended to be a profanity-free blog), we were forced to cancel our flights the night before, at around the same time we were scheduled to begin receiving free drinks from friends keen to give us a proper send off.

When the visa came through last Friday (or rather, when G. heard last Friday that his visa had been approved the week before), we hastily rebooked flights for this Sunday, and rescheduled farewell drinks for tonight. This gave people only one week's notice, and many of them already had, understandably, other plans in place for tonight. For this reason, we will have a total of seven confirmed attendees tonight, and another two "maybes", depending on when their first function finishes.

While this situation could be interpreted as us not having many friends, and people not being bothered to get out and see us one last time, I choose to believe that those not in attendance are too utterly devastated by our imminent departure that they prefer to sit alone in their darkened bedrooms, where better to drown their sorrows in a heady mix of alcoholic drinks. It is Halloween, after all.

Besides, as G keeps reminding me, it's the quality people - T&S, E&T, P&G and A - who are showing up tonight and one should always go for quality over quantity. Plus I have a cracker of a headache at the moment, and therefore probably won't be up for anything too exciting anyway.

The upshot is, of course, that we're going to miss the friends left behind, but with the internet being the way it is these days, and with exciting things like Skype and VOIP (not that I understand them, but I know what they are), keeping in touch is just so easy.

Much love

Countdown: six days to go!

The title says it all.

We spent yesterday morning going through the paperwork that we had put off going through while moving out of our house. By lunchtime we had run out of steam, and then C went shopping to buy travel stuff (a pillow for the plane! luggage lock!) while G stayed at home and read. So today is more of the paperwork fun. Yay.

C looked at online train tickets from London to Edinburgh yesterday - they are 105 pounds if bought at the station, and 40 pounds if bought in advance online. The train journey is only four and a half hours, and leaves every half an hour from Kings Cross. Pretty good, really.

Max is currently asleep in an office chair in the study while C writes this entry, and snoring loudly. The world keeps on turning.

Finally it's happenin' to us!

WOOT!!

Today, G found out the fabulous news that his visa has been approved!! Instant celebrations followed, including C screeching "Oh my GOD!" at the top of her voice.

We're trying to not let our euphoria be tainted by the fact that the visa was approved last week and they didn't contact G at all because they never bothered to update his contact details as requested, and that as a result his passport has been sitting in a post office back room since Tuesday. Let's focus on the good instead!

So, flights have been booked for Sunday, 2 November, and research shall be done into accommodation in Edinburgh and snow apparel for dogs. We have nine days before we go, and much to do!

Much love

The first post

Hello hello!

Well, you're early reading this, as our adventures haven't begun yet. But hopefully you'll come back next month when we post from exciting places!

Much love.