27th November 2015
The death knell of blogging has been tolled by none other than Mia Freedman. Who doesn’t blog. But still. Nooooo!!
Just as I was putting on my glad rags ready to join the blogging party, my impeccable timing in all things strikes again,meaning it looks like I’ll rock up and find there is no party, just a wake. #GoMe
There I was, thinking I could move to Brisbane with no real-life paid employment, so with oodles of time to keep you updated on the Grumpster’s exploits and escapades in his new profession as a Thunderbird. Baking in 42 degrees back in Whyalla, my vision was of selling the car and buying a bike, cafés, adventurous dog walks and blogging. A simpler life.
Heat can make you delusional, I suppose…
Today, we dipped our toe in the water of that simpler life. The hire car had gone back, so we were denuded of the car keys and were forced to fend for ourselves on public transport. And we had a mission – to lodge an application for a house that met all my rigorous house selection criteria. Which despite some alarmed comments on FB, were far more systematic than quality of coffees. Yes, really!!
Did I say rigorous? To be honest, I have little recollection of the house.
In my defence, I was distracted by the relocation adviser phoning and enquiring whether I was pregnant!?! I am 46. I am NOT pregnant. (It would be something of a minor miracle if I were).
Herbert has no recollection of the house, either. He was busy stroking the resident Golden Retriever.
Luckily, the Hubstacle was off Thunderbird duty at the time, and informed me there are blinds that need fixing or replacing. Should our application be accepted. Before cash exchanges hands.
But I do have criteria. (Perhaps not what one would typically describe as rigorous. But more than based purely on a cup of coffee. You can tell I’m not truly Australian: I am NOT a coffee connoisseur). But important, all the same. These are how to choose a place to live:
Supplementary criteria include sufficient bedrooms to house humans and space for furniture. Sadly, due to phantom phone-call induced pregnancy and retriever stroking, I can’t remember if these latter criteria were met in full in our potential new abode… But the people at The Nick Team agency seemed great. And they had a Doberman in their offices, so I think that means it will all be fine.
But back to the public transport. Apparently there are more than 3 bus routes in Brisbane! I know, right? And they don’t all terminate at Westlands…
Thankfully, the thoughtful peeps from the Queensland Government have taken pity on us poor regional South Aussies and have developed a fabulous app, so you can tell it where you are and where you want to be, and it tells you the bus route number, the bus stops and how to get to the bus stop you want. Plus it links to Google Maps, so you can even find your bus stop. Unless you’re me, and then you follow the map in the wrong direction until such time as Herbert jumps in and takes over the navigation… (I can’t believe I’m not winning the Workweek Hustle on Fitbit this week)!!
I’ve rate it as 5*****
In fact, I’d give the whole system 5*. I know we were using the buses and ferry off-peak, but everything was clean, timely and efficient. Good job, Brisbane!
And it’s moments like that that make the simpler life seem more attainable. Maybe I can choose to downshift.
Until, other choices intrude. Like we’ve chosen to move to Australia and have daughters who we want to have the opportunity to go to university. But as Permanent Residents, not Citizens, the girls don’t qualify for Hex Help. And because we’ve disrupted our kids’ education by moving around, we’ve chosen to put them into the private school system, and Herbert has been offered a place at a lovely school in the city. So certain choices require a certain level of compromise.
I accept that. Even if I may have denied that I accepted it. Which lead the Hubstacle to insist on a spreadsheet showing incomings and outgoings. Which may have increased the apparent level of sulking from silent lip-wobble to full blown stomping. (Because what else can you do in face of the undeniable facts presented on the dread spreadsheet…. And because I can always be counted on to have a mature response to being backed into a corner, particularly after a glass or two of wine).
So whilst I see myself peddling round Brissy, bashing the keyboard keys (despite no-one reading my musings because of Mia’s dire prediction), taking the occasional bus or ferry, welcoming the family home to a delicious thermally cooked meal (OK – remembering at about 6.30pm that I probably need to think about food because that’s part of the SAHM job and shoving something into the thermi), I know that there is a certain level of commitment you can’t walk away from. It’s all about choice. Wise choices, acceptable compromises. So I guess the compromise is finding more real-life paid employment. The trick is that it just has be acceptable. 🙂
Keep smiling and tell me how you’re managing the balance in your life.
PS. If blogging is dead, long live blogging!!!!