Parting ways

As revealed in the last blog entry, Max is going home.

Surprisingly, considering all the rigmarole involved with getting him over here in the first place, it was an easy decision. But I think we'd been heading down that path for a while, and now the decision has been made we both just want things finished.

There wasn't one specific thing that happened to force this decision, but probably the last straw was Max getting kicked out of doggy daycare for barking too much. Friday morning two weeks ago, Linda the daycare lady called me at work, and I got a sick feeling in my stomach when I saw her name flash up on my phone because there was no good reason that she'd be calling.

She told me that her elderly neighbour had complained that, while Linda is out doing her dogwalking rounds during the day, Max barks continuously. Considering how close together all the houses are here, Linda said she couldn't keep Max on because it would ruin her relationship with her neighbour. She was extremely apologetic about it, and said she'd keep taking Max until we coud find another daycare place for him which was good. 

G had spent the past three weekends building a very good fence around our patch of grass outside, and we had ultimately hoped to start leaving Max in there while we were at work or out on the weekends. However, this news from Linda put that into a spin - the chances of Max barking his head off were pretty high, and our neighbours are very, very close - one with a small baby, too, who probably needs sleep etc.

We both knew that, back in Brisbane, Max probably barked a bit while we were at work. But because we owned the house there was no chance of our landlord kicking us out, and there were no shared walls between our house and the next. Here, though, issues of space are so different, and while we were willing to try techniques to train Max out of barking, it's going to take a lot longer than our neighbours' patience will last.

Add to this the fact that the day after Linda called, we put Max in the fenced-off garden for the first time...and within five minutes he'd yanked the wire up and escaped. Not the desired result. G spent half an hour fixing that area of the fence, which was great, but Max has rat cunning and no doubt would be able to escape some other way. Seeing as our house is extremely close to a busy main road (with buses running past 24 hours a day), I know I would never be comfortable leaving Max in that area while we were out.

Of course, leaving Max in the house for a long period is unfeasible. In Australia, Max destroyed about four things, three of them while in the puppy phase (the other was about six months ago, and was a model of a dog covered in rabbit fur - clearly too tempting for him to ignore). 

However, since arriving in Edinburgh, he has widened his range and frequency enormously. So far he has destroyed: the telephone cord; three television cables; a scarf (mine); a shoe (mine); letters (mostly addressed to me); plastic bags; random paper; the door mat; a huge cardboard box (in stages); my coat (partial damage); and three dog leads, including a thick leather one. He has also chewed at two doors, and left 'messages' around the house.   

This is a dog who is perfectly well behaved when we are at home, and has been toilet-trained for years. When he had an upset tummy a month ago and had to keep going out during the night, he gently woke one of us up every time he needed to go outside. Clearly, he turns into a little monster as soon as he's left alone, which is incredibly frustrating. Anyone who knows Max has experiences his neurotic behaviour, so imagine trying to tame this. We didn't realise how bad he would be before we came here, but it's just untenable. 

So, after talking about it for two days, we made a phone call to G's parents. G asked if they would ever possibly, maybe, consider looking after Max if we were to send him home, and they didn't hesitate to say "of course!". As soon as I heard that, I just burst into tears from all the months of stress and from the relief. I don't think I realised just how stressed Max was making me until that moment. Because my hours are strictly 9-5, I get home before G each night, and I never know what's going to greet me when I open the door.  Therefore, I always have a sick feeling in my stomach when approaching home, which is really not the way things should be.

Once we knew we had the option of sending Max to Bundaberg to live, the decision pretty much made itself. The steps involved in getting Max back to Australia are manifold - including getting both an export and an import license - and we've spent the last two weeks researching what needs to be done. He will have to spend 30 days in quarantine in Sydney (there are no quarantine facilities in Brisbane), but he would need to do that whenever he came home and we knew that from the outset. Knowing Max, he'll have the quarantine staff wrapped around his little finger within two days. 

It costs a lot to send your dog overseas, and we always knew we'd have to pay that, but hadn't figured on needing to spend that so soon. So we've had to rejig things that we had wanted to do in order to ship Max off, but he's all booked in to fly off on Tuesday 3 March. We will take him down to London the day before, where he'll stay overnight in some kennels. It will be sad, but a huge relief.

It feels a bit like a break-up, in a way - should we tell Max "It's not you, it's us"? But then, that would be a big lie, because it really is him.

Holding post...

Hi everyone

We haven't posted for a week, as you see, and will be doing so again shortly (maybe tomorrow if it's a slow day at work!). 

The delay is mostly due to the sad nature of the next post - to let everyone know that Max is being sent home.  Things have been difficult with him, as you know, so he's going home to spend the next year+ with his grandparents in Bundaberg.

Anyhow, that will all be covered in the next issue of the blog, along with everything involved with exporting a dog to Australia.

Thinking of home

Having lived (briefly) overseas before, I was quite accustomed to the fact that Australia never makes the news unless it's one of those "How weird is that?" type stories - these usually involve shark or crocodile attacks, or some kind of cute koala story.

In the three months that we have been here, Australia has only made the sport news. The Brits are quite gleeful in their reporting of Australia getting thrashed in the cricket, although now Shane Warne is no longer playing they don't have someone to pick on in the tabloids. Their coverage of cricket is sure to pick up when the Ashes start here in July, and they'll find another target within the team.

However, the Victorian bushfires are now the number one news item on all TV stations, before British news, and even before Premier league football.

It's horrific to contemplate what's going on back home, and the coverage of the disaster is indepth in both newspapers and on TV. Our hearts go out to everyone who has suffered any kind of loss in the fires, or who has loved ones there. I don't feel as separated from events as I would if I was back home and the tragedy was happening in another country, because coming from Australia means familiarity with bushfires.

People at work have been kind, asking if I have family or friends in the affected areas. The weird thing is that everyone has expressed utter incredulity at the idea that anyone would purposely start a fire. While I also can't understand why anyone would do it, it's not such a foreign idea because each dry season there are idiots who start fires. But the concept is so unknown over here - possibly because it rains so often, no fire would take if the underbrush was lit.

It's strange seeing Kevin Rudd on TV - he has such a round head! - and also strange hearing so many Australian accents on the news...it makes me more aware of how my accent must sound to other people.

Vital stats

In my old job, I had to attend meetings with some fairly senior figures from the sector, and the same goes for my new job. However there are some differences between the two.

I was at such a meeting on Tuesday, and here are some interesting facts about the attendees:

Number of knights at the meeting: 3 (including one sitting next to me)

Number of baronesses at the meeting: 1

Number of baronesses who did not resemble Margaret Thatcher, as expected: 1

Number of baronesses who instead looked more like Cyndi Lauper: 1

Number of Scottish opposition leaders at meeting: 1

Number of Scottish opposition leaders who shook my hand (!!): 1

Number of holograms invented by James Clerk Maxwell (very big name in the history of Chemistry and Physics, apparently) on display: 1

Number of Scottish opposition leaders who got very excited about said hologram: 1

Number of male attendees who resembled women: 1

Number of woman-like men who were actually really lovely and asked many questions about Australia: 1

Number of times I was asked (not by above man-woman) "So what actually is the difference between Australia and New Zealand?": 1

Number of attendees with the same name as a rather camp Australian TV personality, but who looked the complete opposite: 1

As you can probably tell, I was rather excited by it all. Coupled with the snow we had the day before, I was like a small child on red cordial. I'm pretty sure the novelty will wear off after a while (especially if it's me taking minutes at the meeting instead of some other poor sap), but for now I'm enjoying being in the same rarefied air as these big wigs. Especially when you consider that my previous manager had a mullet.

** And the spacing in this post is driving me crazy!!! I have no idea how to change it, stupid internet.

SNOW DAY!

Well, it finally snowed properly here in Edinburgh, two months into winter. While the whole of London ground to a halt under a blanket of heavy snow, things weren't quite as dramatical up here.

We woke to a nice covering of snow on the garden outside this morning, and then it started to snow while we were walking to the bus stop. I quickly regretted not wearing my hat this morning - there's nothing quite like snow to give that attractive 'drowned rat' look that goes down so well in the corporate world. Instead, I wrapped my scarf around my head like a demented peasant woman. Oh well, better than getting snowed on.

During the day, it snowed off and on. A snow shower would sweep in, but after half an hour the sunshine would break through the clouds. The pattern repeated throughout the whole day.  The best part was that the heating or something in the building across the courtyard was broken, and two blokes were up on the roof fixing it. Every time it started to snow heavily they ran back inside, only to come out again when the coast was clear. It was like some weird dance. 

It was very exciting, for an Aussie, and Jill who I set next to found my enthusiasm quite charming. I'm sure she'll get over that if this cold weather continues.  She suggested that I open the window to take a photo so I did, but then found I couldn't shut the window again. The snow was a lot less interesting when it was actually inside the building, rather than behind the glass.

Of course, the snow was at its heaviest at five o'clock, knock-off time. I'm someone who likes to walk quite quickly, but had to take little baby steps for fear of slipping over in the mush. 

I did manage to get a few photos, though, so enjoy!

Our front door step, with unspoiled snow!

The garden (note the fence for Max that G built)

Photo taken through open window behind my desk at work. Heavy snow!

Snow in Princes Street Gardens. Plus taxi in foreground.

Edinburgh Castle with a nice sprinkling of snow.

Australia Day, Edinburghian-style

Today is, as you know, Australia Day. 

In honour of this day, and partly to assuage the pain of not having a long weekend, I made some lamingtons for both of us to take to work. Something sweet in the morning should surely help ease the fact that we both had to work instead of slobbing around on a day off.

Unfortunately, finding sponge cake was really difficult. No supermarket was able to help, as they didn't stock any plain sponge. Both Tesco and Sainsbury's are huge, bigger than Woolies and Coles, but they failed in this respect. I also tried making a victoria sponge from a packet mix, but it turned out incredibly thin. Seeing as the recipe requires the chef to trim the outside brown bits off the sponge, the lamingtons would end up about as thick as a wafer. 

So the answer was to buy premade long-life sponge cake with raspberry jam and butter cream filling. I know, I know, this isn't how lamingtons SHOULD be. But, frankly, on Sunday afternoonI had no motivation to scrape out the filling and use the plain cake.

I'd never made lamingtons before, and they're quite easy yet fiddly. It's vital to hold the choc-covered piece of cake over the bowl of sauce to allow as much icing to drip off as possible. This slows the process down, but luckily my sweet tooth overrode my impatience.

So today we both brought them into our respective workplaces, and they were a big hit. The fact that it was Monday morning probably helped things, as people were after a little something to cheer them up.

Here are the lammos:

After work, we headed off to the Old Town to the OzBar which is, surprisingly enough, an Australian-themed bar. One of G's workmates was due to be there, after having spent the day at the beach playing cricket and listening to an INXS tribute band. We got lost briefly, but should have guessed where the bar was as there were some drunken youths with Australian flags draped over their shoulders, swaying gently and yelling loudly. One of them came rushing past and knocked into me; his mate apologised and said "Happy Australia Day, mate!" in a broad accent. He was visibly shocked to hear my similarly-ocker response. 

The pub itself was as it promised to be - loud, cheesy and full of Australian backpackers. We had one drink each before leaving, but not before buying a box of Arnott's Pizza Shapes! That was the highlight of the day, for sure.

Here's one more photo, of Max trying to take over navigational duties in the car:

Bits and pieces

Hello again.

Just a quick email from work (during my lunch hour) to update people on our recent activities. We've generally been up to administrative and organisational stuff that comes with moving countries and settling down, although some of it has been unexpected.

Max's behaviour is still less than desirable. He's taken to ripping up the mail when it's delivered in the morning, before he gets collected for day care. A bank statement and a gas bill were destroyed yesterday, and somehow I don't think the gas company is going to accept the excuse of "my dog ate the bill" when we don't pay up. On Monday he destroyed my exchange of driving license form, but not G's, sent by the DVLA, so I had to queue up at the post office yesterday to get a new one. It's driving us crazy, because he's got such a neurotic, irrational brain for a dog that many of the techniques listed on separation anxiety websites, namely distracting dogs with a juicy treat when leaving the house, don't work. Max has never been ruled by food, so even though we leave some chunks of frozen beef for him each morning, which he always eats, he still sets about destroying things. It's forcing us to think wistfully about him not being here which we don't want to do, but it's hard not to when you come home to find your scarf chewed up and bite marks on the kitchen door. G's started preparations for fencing off the front garden, and a kennel and heating pad were delivered yesterday, so soon he'll be an outside dog again.

On the other hand, having the new car is really, really good. We had planned to go for a drive on Sunday, but the forecast was for sleet, heavy snow, and all sorts of undesirable things. But Sunday morning dawned with a lovely blue sky so we hopped in the car....and immediately the clouds started to close in. However, the rain held off for most of our trip, and only poured for half an hour or so. We travelled east from Edinburgh along the coast, and there's some lovely scenery there. We drove through North Berwick, which seems to be the Noosa or Bargara of the Lothians - one new housing estate didn't have any properties under £1 million, which is a LOT. We also passed about a billion golf courses, including one that was right next to the main road. I'm sure cars must get hit by stray golf balls.

G was excited to drive through Belhaven, the home of Belhaven Best, and we stopped at the gates to the brewery. Belhaven kind of merged into the town of Dunbar, which had the narrowest, most ill-signposted streets we'd ever come across, and produced some hairy driving moments.

Driving in the UK is good, because pretty much every road, aside from suburban streets, is names (e.g. A1907). This is really, really handy when reading from a map, because it's really easy to tell if you're on the right track or not. The fact that some of these roads turn out to be more like glorified cart tracks is a minor point.

As for the unexpected bits, the door to the washer-dryer has broken, trapping a load of sheets inside (at least it wasn't clothing). This machine, an Indesit (see this page for one of many sites listing the brand's problems), is a piece of junk. We don't usually bother with the drying cycle because the clothes, towels, sheets etc, finish the cycle damp and steaming, rather than any closer to being dry. However, this means it takes about two days to dry things on the clothes horse, because, even after three additional spin cycles, the load is still sopping wet. All up - piece of rubbish that is to be avoided at all costs.

So, after realising on Sunday morning that the door of the washer was not going to open despite our best efforts, which included me kicking it, we called our landlady to tell her. She came over on Monday afternoon to check it out for herself, because she clearly thought that we were unable to work the door or something - she lives in Dundee which is over an hour's drive away, a long distance for British folk to travel unnecessarily. Not surprisingly, she couldn't get the door to open either, and phoned G on Tuesday to say she's going to replace the whole machine. Yay! G gets to do a bit of handyman stuff tonight and uninstall the washer, releasing our trapped sheets through the lid of the machine, all ready for the new one to be installed. It does mean, however, that we're going to have to go to a laundromat on the weekend to do some washing, which is a pain. Oh well, at least we're getting a new machine next week.

Anyhow, lunch break is over and I'd better get back to it. I'm interviewing for this role tomorrow, and I'm quite nervous. I just want to know one way or another what's happening with this position. I'd love to get it because then I don't have to go through the whole job-finding stuff anymore. But, what will be will be.