EVEN over here, as a 10,000 mile away onlooker, I've been following the devastating and deteriorating condition of Big Brother star, Jade Goody.
At 27, she's been snatched from her two young boys, family and friends by the evil disease that is cancer. The girl who was never afraid to 'have a go' and was always first to put herself down has gone.
People have either loved or hated Jade ... personally, I loved her, but was frowned upon whenever this admission cropped up.
"She's a nothing. A nobody. Just someone who's as thick as two short planks who's been on a reality show ..." they would retort.
Yes... she may have been just a Cockney 'sparra' who was catapulted into the media spotlight by a reality show that highlighted her language gaffs and non-Mensa-like take on life but these are the reasons why viewers in their thousands tuned into the show week after week.
I met Jade this time last year at a pre-charity football match dinner in Wrexham. Listed among the other celebrities were X-Factor contestant Andy Abraham and Liberty X's Michelle Heaton was there with then but now estranged husband, Andy Scott-Lee.
Jade made her appearance, running late as always, with Jack Tweed following closely behind.
She liked to come over as one brimming with confidence with a boyish and cheeky attitude but really, I found her to be the shy sort of ladette type. She posed for a photograph with us and got up on the dancefloor to strutt away to the vives coming from the X-Factor crooner and was soon gone, back upto her hotel room, to get some shut-eye for the following day on the footy pitch.
Just a few months later, she was in the spotlight again in a racism row over treatment towards fellow Celeb Big Bro contestant, Shilpa Shetty. Personally, I think it was blown all out of proportion but as an olive branch, the shamed star agree to take part in India's version of BB. It was here where she was told of her illness in the diary room of the television set.
After her flight home there followed report after report on her condition and now, just months after receiving the shocking news, she's gone and I'm gutted.
Even on her deathbed, she remained firmly in the media focus and it is hoped that this TV coverage seeing her dwindle away before our eyes may raise enough awareness of the threat of cervical cancer.
I'm sure after this, doctor's surgeries near and far are being inundated with check up appointments. If Jade hadn't been the person she was and allowing us all to have a bird's eye view into her world, she would be just another silent statistic to the killer disease.
Tuesday, 24 March 2009
I can do that...
I WAS brave today ... on two counts.
Husband was invited to a round of golf by a neighbour so off he trot. Taking the only set of wheels we have with him.
This left me to fend for myself and looking at ways I could while away the hours that the children were sat at their desks. So I strolled around the estate in the direction of a main road and jumped onto a bus into town. It's a five minute journey under your own 4-litre steam and the speed I drive at (!) but under the steam of the Peninsula Bus Line, I was in Mornington 25 minutes later.
By the time I'd spent a bit of money and had a bite for lunch, it was pretty much time to start getting back if I wanted to get to the school on time. But, before leaving, I had a job to do. To ask in the bistro where I was sitting about the job they had advertised in the window.
In an attempt to get myself into Mornington to earn money each day and not spend it, I enquired what exactly was entailed in the role of "kitchenhand".
Sounds pretty obvious to me but I just wanted to leave the charismatic confines of my comfy couch to stickybeak around the kitchen itself. The waitress suggested I speak with the head chef before I left, so I did.
It looked ok to me and by all accounts, if experience is what they're after, they've found it with me. May as well be paid for washing up dishes because I do it for nowt at home.
But then, head chef Nick tells me the haunt is "currently trialling for the position..."
Trialling??? Gee whizz. I really am going to have a shock when it comes to finding office employment that I'm used to if a job washing pots needs to be trialled.
Think I might sit this one out!
Husband was invited to a round of golf by a neighbour so off he trot. Taking the only set of wheels we have with him.
This left me to fend for myself and looking at ways I could while away the hours that the children were sat at their desks. So I strolled around the estate in the direction of a main road and jumped onto a bus into town. It's a five minute journey under your own 4-litre steam and the speed I drive at (!) but under the steam of the Peninsula Bus Line, I was in Mornington 25 minutes later.
By the time I'd spent a bit of money and had a bite for lunch, it was pretty much time to start getting back if I wanted to get to the school on time. But, before leaving, I had a job to do. To ask in the bistro where I was sitting about the job they had advertised in the window.
In an attempt to get myself into Mornington to earn money each day and not spend it, I enquired what exactly was entailed in the role of "kitchenhand".
Sounds pretty obvious to me but I just wanted to leave the charismatic confines of my comfy couch to stickybeak around the kitchen itself. The waitress suggested I speak with the head chef before I left, so I did.
It looked ok to me and by all accounts, if experience is what they're after, they've found it with me. May as well be paid for washing up dishes because I do it for nowt at home.
But then, head chef Nick tells me the haunt is "currently trialling for the position..."
Trialling??? Gee whizz. I really am going to have a shock when it comes to finding office employment that I'm used to if a job washing pots needs to be trialled.
Think I might sit this one out!
Sunday, 22 March 2009
Jobhunters
TWO months in and we both remain unemployed. Husband is off for intervew number three at the same firm for more interrogation in the morning while I stroll to school with the children in the autumn sunshine.
I say 'stroll to school' in the broadest sense - the school is within spitting distance of the house - if you're a good spitter that is - and the boys now like to walk in by themselves. Getting into true Aussie lingo, they say they look like 'dorks' when either one of us parents escorts them into their classrooms!
So, by the end of this week, we'll know whether the tradesman of the household has been successful in any one of the countless jobs he's applied for.
If I wore a hat, I'd take it off to him. While I peruse the 'sits vac' columns of the local newspaper with half interested eyes, he's down at the job centre applying for litter picking jobs and even jobs down the copper mines.
The job I thought was coming up at the local cop shop was, after closer inspection, non-existent and the bobby who told me of it was obviously talking through his truncheon. I've spoken to two senior sergeants about the possibility of employment in their offices but there's nothing going ... allegedly.
So woe is me. I need some sort of normality and routine in my life and by being in work again will cut the mustard. It's here where I'll get myself some chums to bounce off and work up some sort of social circle again.
If anybody in the south-western suburbs of Melbourne wants to take on a naughty-forty-office-tea-girl, just shout yeah...?
I say 'stroll to school' in the broadest sense - the school is within spitting distance of the house - if you're a good spitter that is - and the boys now like to walk in by themselves. Getting into true Aussie lingo, they say they look like 'dorks' when either one of us parents escorts them into their classrooms!
So, by the end of this week, we'll know whether the tradesman of the household has been successful in any one of the countless jobs he's applied for.
If I wore a hat, I'd take it off to him. While I peruse the 'sits vac' columns of the local newspaper with half interested eyes, he's down at the job centre applying for litter picking jobs and even jobs down the copper mines.
The job I thought was coming up at the local cop shop was, after closer inspection, non-existent and the bobby who told me of it was obviously talking through his truncheon. I've spoken to two senior sergeants about the possibility of employment in their offices but there's nothing going ... allegedly.
So woe is me. I need some sort of normality and routine in my life and by being in work again will cut the mustard. It's here where I'll get myself some chums to bounce off and work up some sort of social circle again.
If anybody in the south-western suburbs of Melbourne wants to take on a naughty-forty-office-tea-girl, just shout yeah...?
Running out of ink... and patience
TOMORROW will bring yet another day of form filling.
Over the past few weeks, we've gone through biros like a dose of salts and the times I've scribed our new address and telephone number is beyond belief.
We have a new identity now and have had to start again from scratch ... from finding a dentist I trust enough to fill a gap in my front left incisor right through to locating a letterbox large enough for all my postcards, the learning curve is immense.
Anything tax related (thankfully) is handled by husband. He knows all about the dull stuff that - granted - needs to be known, but it's not something I want taking up my spare head space. I leave that for planning ahead enough to get birthday gifts organised and sent off to the UK in plenty of time for the big days.
This time six months ago, I'd simply hoof out to the local shopping park and pick up a bespoke gift for whoever it was but now, I don't have a clue where to get things from and more importantly, what I'm allowed to send and what I'm not.
So back to the form filling ... I need a credit card. It's imperitive. A necessity. An urgent item. Not that I need the credit... moreover I need to pay a bill that's still sourced in the UK.
I have a mobile telephone bill the size of Gibraltar and with just days to go before its due date, I have no way of paying it. The account strategy we've kept there purely for this scenario has gone belly-up in the fact that our bank friends have decided to cut us off from our own cash because we gave a password that they didn't recognise for telephone banking.
Forgive us for being forgetful. It's the lack of sleep you see. While we sit here waiting for your staff to open up and get the kettle on, it's way passed our bedtime and by the time we wake up in the morning, your office is in darkness with just its video surveillance for company.
Maybe I could persuade the bank in question to pay my mobile bill for me ... for it's their number that features most on my itemised call sheet...
A little Xtra help? Not this time.
Over the past few weeks, we've gone through biros like a dose of salts and the times I've scribed our new address and telephone number is beyond belief.
We have a new identity now and have had to start again from scratch ... from finding a dentist I trust enough to fill a gap in my front left incisor right through to locating a letterbox large enough for all my postcards, the learning curve is immense.
Anything tax related (thankfully) is handled by husband. He knows all about the dull stuff that - granted - needs to be known, but it's not something I want taking up my spare head space. I leave that for planning ahead enough to get birthday gifts organised and sent off to the UK in plenty of time for the big days.
This time six months ago, I'd simply hoof out to the local shopping park and pick up a bespoke gift for whoever it was but now, I don't have a clue where to get things from and more importantly, what I'm allowed to send and what I'm not.
So back to the form filling ... I need a credit card. It's imperitive. A necessity. An urgent item. Not that I need the credit... moreover I need to pay a bill that's still sourced in the UK.
I have a mobile telephone bill the size of Gibraltar and with just days to go before its due date, I have no way of paying it. The account strategy we've kept there purely for this scenario has gone belly-up in the fact that our bank friends have decided to cut us off from our own cash because we gave a password that they didn't recognise for telephone banking.
Forgive us for being forgetful. It's the lack of sleep you see. While we sit here waiting for your staff to open up and get the kettle on, it's way passed our bedtime and by the time we wake up in the morning, your office is in darkness with just its video surveillance for company.
Maybe I could persuade the bank in question to pay my mobile bill for me ... for it's their number that features most on my itemised call sheet...
A little Xtra help? Not this time.
Wednesday, 18 March 2009
Big move lies ahead
UK readers of this newspaper will be delighted to hear that I'm absolutely freezing!
The Mornington Peninsula weather here just now is messing around with both my head and my wardrobe and the boys are beside themselves at having to apply pre-school sunscreen while the living room gas fire's on at full pelt.
The mornings are cold but come lunchtime, temperatures usually soar and then drop right back down to where they started 9 hours previous ... but we are heading into Melbourne's autumn.
Yesterday, we watched the rain lash down on the balcony, only to clear up within the hour leaving the garden looking refreshed and thankful. It may just be my imagination but at one point, I was sure I heared the plants in their borders slurping away at the rainfall, not knowing when the next lot was going to drop.
One day I'm in two piece swimwear, the next I'm togged upto the neck in a woolly jumper and boots but at least it seems the more I don, the less chance the mozzies have of replenishing their dwindling stocks on me. I have bites the size of golf balls and am sometimes glad of the cooler days that seem to stop them in their greedy tracks.
But we'll be moving away from the trees and semi-ruralness of our Peninsula beach house in McCrae next week, swapping it for a two-living-four-bedded-two-bathed-gaff in the sprawling metropolis that is Mornington.
It's here where we think we'll be laying our hats in the months that follow so renting here for the best part of a year will give us the opportunity to find our feet and put down some roots.
Meeting new people is a slow process and I'm hoping our move will lead me in the direction of human traffic. The boys will be signed up for everything I can get a leaflet on whether they like it or not and I may even join a fitness class myself.
I can hear the sniggers from HERE...!
The Mornington Peninsula weather here just now is messing around with both my head and my wardrobe and the boys are beside themselves at having to apply pre-school sunscreen while the living room gas fire's on at full pelt.
The mornings are cold but come lunchtime, temperatures usually soar and then drop right back down to where they started 9 hours previous ... but we are heading into Melbourne's autumn.
Yesterday, we watched the rain lash down on the balcony, only to clear up within the hour leaving the garden looking refreshed and thankful. It may just be my imagination but at one point, I was sure I heared the plants in their borders slurping away at the rainfall, not knowing when the next lot was going to drop.
One day I'm in two piece swimwear, the next I'm togged upto the neck in a woolly jumper and boots but at least it seems the more I don, the less chance the mozzies have of replenishing their dwindling stocks on me. I have bites the size of golf balls and am sometimes glad of the cooler days that seem to stop them in their greedy tracks.
But we'll be moving away from the trees and semi-ruralness of our Peninsula beach house in McCrae next week, swapping it for a two-living-four-bedded-two-bathed-gaff in the sprawling metropolis that is Mornington.
It's here where we think we'll be laying our hats in the months that follow so renting here for the best part of a year will give us the opportunity to find our feet and put down some roots.
Meeting new people is a slow process and I'm hoping our move will lead me in the direction of human traffic. The boys will be signed up for everything I can get a leaflet on whether they like it or not and I may even join a fitness class myself.
I can hear the sniggers from HERE...!
Wednesday, 11 March 2009
Pedal to the metal
IT'S not something I'm proud of ... but I've just had my first brush with the Aussie law.
Well... it WAS teatime. And we WERE hungry. And it WAS getting late down at the beach. The sound of bellies rumbling over-shadowed anything the waves crashing to shore could muster up with so I went out. Alone. Looking for food. In the car.
The car with a 4-litre engine. The car I've driven just a handful of times and the car in which I'm still learning how to master the cruise control and automatic transmission.
And the rest is history. I'd merely pulled out of the car park and onto the West Nepean Highway, just a stone's throw from our beach spot when ... ZAP. He got me. On his radar. Clocking in at 73km, when I should have been doing 50, in the car. The car with the 4-litre engine. The car that I've driven a handful of times. And the car in which I'm still learning how to master the cruise control and automatic transmission.
So, just over a month into my new life and I have become a statistic. I have to cough up $142 within six weeks and have just one single point put on my still-UK driving licence. Not sure how exactly that will be applied but for now, I'm not worried.
Playing on my last ounce of charm, I pointed out to the officer that I would need a job before I could pay off any such fine and he went on to tell me about the vacancies that were coming up in the local police department. So now, I'm busy getting my CV ... er .... sorry .... resume .... in order before pushing it through the letterboxes of every cop shop in Victoria.
Here's hoping my very black cloud has an extremely silver lining...
Well... it WAS teatime. And we WERE hungry. And it WAS getting late down at the beach. The sound of bellies rumbling over-shadowed anything the waves crashing to shore could muster up with so I went out. Alone. Looking for food. In the car.
The car with a 4-litre engine. The car I've driven just a handful of times and the car in which I'm still learning how to master the cruise control and automatic transmission.
And the rest is history. I'd merely pulled out of the car park and onto the West Nepean Highway, just a stone's throw from our beach spot when ... ZAP. He got me. On his radar. Clocking in at 73km, when I should have been doing 50, in the car. The car with the 4-litre engine. The car that I've driven a handful of times. And the car in which I'm still learning how to master the cruise control and automatic transmission.
So, just over a month into my new life and I have become a statistic. I have to cough up $142 within six weeks and have just one single point put on my still-UK driving licence. Not sure how exactly that will be applied but for now, I'm not worried.
Playing on my last ounce of charm, I pointed out to the officer that I would need a job before I could pay off any such fine and he went on to tell me about the vacancies that were coming up in the local police department. So now, I'm busy getting my CV ... er .... sorry .... resume .... in order before pushing it through the letterboxes of every cop shop in Victoria.
Here's hoping my very black cloud has an extremely silver lining...
Tuesday, 3 March 2009
IN a matter of hours, my life has been transformed. Again.
Today, the children started at their new school. We secured a house to rent last week and the next job to tackle was to find a school for the boys. Just a stone's throw from our new abode is a relatively new school, full of vibrancy and, well, newness.
We put in a phone call at 2.15pm on Friday expressing an interest in signing up the boys as new starters and by 3.40pm we were in Frankston kitting them both out in the school's colours. The uniform came as a bit of a shock to me. Always one to choose muted shades over any other, I was both shocked and stunned to see them come out the fitting room in cobalt blue and tangerine.
And this isn't any old tangerine. It's full blown tangerine. In fact, more tangerine than any tangerine I've ever seen in the fruit aisles of Somerfield.
$300 lighter, we left the store with two bags and headed off to hunt for shoes. Then stationery. Then lunchboxes. Then cash for next week's two school trips - the first to learn about the Aboriginees followed by a two day course on beach studies.
The house is a different place altogether now. It's tidy. Organised. And even better ... quiet. Sitting on the balcony, sipping away at a Flat White and looking out to the sea, I'm seeing all sorts of things I've never taken in before and we've been here THREE weeks.
The birds are no longer afraid to perch in the trees in the garden and I just caught a glimpse of a possum on the roof. With the noise of two pesky boys around the place usually, these creatures have kept themselves well hidden.
Understandably so!
Today, the children started at their new school. We secured a house to rent last week and the next job to tackle was to find a school for the boys. Just a stone's throw from our new abode is a relatively new school, full of vibrancy and, well, newness.
We put in a phone call at 2.15pm on Friday expressing an interest in signing up the boys as new starters and by 3.40pm we were in Frankston kitting them both out in the school's colours. The uniform came as a bit of a shock to me. Always one to choose muted shades over any other, I was both shocked and stunned to see them come out the fitting room in cobalt blue and tangerine.
And this isn't any old tangerine. It's full blown tangerine. In fact, more tangerine than any tangerine I've ever seen in the fruit aisles of Somerfield.
$300 lighter, we left the store with two bags and headed off to hunt for shoes. Then stationery. Then lunchboxes. Then cash for next week's two school trips - the first to learn about the Aboriginees followed by a two day course on beach studies.
The house is a different place altogether now. It's tidy. Organised. And even better ... quiet. Sitting on the balcony, sipping away at a Flat White and looking out to the sea, I'm seeing all sorts of things I've never taken in before and we've been here THREE weeks.
The birds are no longer afraid to perch in the trees in the garden and I just caught a glimpse of a possum on the roof. With the noise of two pesky boys around the place usually, these creatures have kept themselves well hidden.
Understandably so!
Just helping out as and when...
IT wasn't Wimbledom Common but today, as a family, we played at being Wombles and volunteered to take part in National Clean-Up Australia Day.
We were a little late due to UK Skype commitments but turned up all eager and keen to collect any litter from around our local area.
If I say it was hard going, you'd think the work we were undertaking was difficult. Yes, it was difficult. To find litter round here you really have to look for it. All I could manage to find for my oversized hessian sack was about 150 cigarette ends, 47 bottle tops, a couple of crisp bags and the odd used teabag.
The children got stuck in and treated is a treasure hunt. Husband on the other hand was more concerned about whether passers-by thought we'd been put on a programme of community service.
After telling one UK friend what our plans for the day entailed he scoffed, saying "You never did that here...!"
Tis true. But if I'm encouraged to do something good I'll get right on in there and do it. Maybe this is something councils over there could take on board.
By putting out a little advance publicity and sticking a "volunteers needed" sandwich board out on the side of a road, anyone with any spare time and spare inclination will muster up the enthusiasm to get involved.
In my experience, if you're not asked to do something, most times it doesn't get done...
We were a little late due to UK Skype commitments but turned up all eager and keen to collect any litter from around our local area.
If I say it was hard going, you'd think the work we were undertaking was difficult. Yes, it was difficult. To find litter round here you really have to look for it. All I could manage to find for my oversized hessian sack was about 150 cigarette ends, 47 bottle tops, a couple of crisp bags and the odd used teabag.
The children got stuck in and treated is a treasure hunt. Husband on the other hand was more concerned about whether passers-by thought we'd been put on a programme of community service.
After telling one UK friend what our plans for the day entailed he scoffed, saying "You never did that here...!"
Tis true. But if I'm encouraged to do something good I'll get right on in there and do it. Maybe this is something councils over there could take on board.
By putting out a little advance publicity and sticking a "volunteers needed" sandwich board out on the side of a road, anyone with any spare time and spare inclination will muster up the enthusiasm to get involved.
In my experience, if you're not asked to do something, most times it doesn't get done...
Sunday, 1 March 2009
Same difference
I HAD a text from one of my close friends in the UK this week. He asked me what I thought the main differences were between my new Aussie life and the UK one I've left behind...
My reply was one that focussed on the basic stuff - like weather and lifestyle and exchange rates.... but really, when you look at the facts all up close, there isn't THAT much to compare.
The price of spaghetti hoops and Old El Paso taco dinner kits are the same, as are loose onions, peppers and tomatoes.
I confessed that I'd slipped into life Down Under with relative ease - same language, same monarchy, same side of the road to drive on - but I have a bit of a problem in the property department.
We've just had approval to rent ... YIPPEE! So my newfound friend and her reference worked absolute wonders and we're now on the ladder. We've viewed a handful of properties to rent but they've been ... how can I say ... "different".
Yes. Different. That's just it. I can't adjust to the fact that there can be a fantastic home on offer for an equally fantastic price. But its neighbours' "estate" replicates something from Onslow's front yard in Keeping Up Appearances. Do you know where I'm coming from?
So, come mid-March, we'll be moving out of our beautiful beach house and into a four-bedroomed, two reception and bathroomed gaff in Mornington, just around the corner from a primary school.
From hereon in, I'll be able to put down some roots and get a real feel for the area we've chosen from a great many on offer.
Let's hope we've put our map pin in the right place...
My reply was one that focussed on the basic stuff - like weather and lifestyle and exchange rates.... but really, when you look at the facts all up close, there isn't THAT much to compare.
The price of spaghetti hoops and Old El Paso taco dinner kits are the same, as are loose onions, peppers and tomatoes.
I confessed that I'd slipped into life Down Under with relative ease - same language, same monarchy, same side of the road to drive on - but I have a bit of a problem in the property department.
We've just had approval to rent ... YIPPEE! So my newfound friend and her reference worked absolute wonders and we're now on the ladder. We've viewed a handful of properties to rent but they've been ... how can I say ... "different".
Yes. Different. That's just it. I can't adjust to the fact that there can be a fantastic home on offer for an equally fantastic price. But its neighbours' "estate" replicates something from Onslow's front yard in Keeping Up Appearances. Do you know where I'm coming from?
So, come mid-March, we'll be moving out of our beautiful beach house and into a four-bedroomed, two reception and bathroomed gaff in Mornington, just around the corner from a primary school.
From hereon in, I'll be able to put down some roots and get a real feel for the area we've chosen from a great many on offer.
Let's hope we've put our map pin in the right place...
Getting somewhere now
JUST over three weeks into our new life, we're on a roll.
Husband has a few interviews lined up - which has made him a little happier - and we're a step closer to being agreed to rent a house.
The paperwork involved in such a task in a different country is incomprehendible. "Please attach copies of utility bills with your current address... "Please supply references of good character from three Australian citizens ..."Please tell us how much cash you have in the bank and how much you spend on broccoli a week blah blah blah....
We don't HAVE any utility bills yet ..... we don't KNOW anybody yet and ........... we don't particularly go all out to fill ourselves up with the green wintery vegetable stuff - yet.
So. We continue to wait around for a decision on our future and idle our time away at the beach playing swingball and diving under the sun parasol for relief from the sun.
We're still in something of a holiday mode, what with going out for meals and drinking beer when we get home.
But this really feels like home. I feel at home. Thanks to mobile phones and Skype video calling, I've never been cut off from my home town. Although I'm actually dreading my next mobile phone bill, I don't really care what it amounts to.
You can't put a price on "home".
Husband has a few interviews lined up - which has made him a little happier - and we're a step closer to being agreed to rent a house.
The paperwork involved in such a task in a different country is incomprehendible. "Please attach copies of utility bills with your current address... "Please supply references of good character from three Australian citizens ..."Please tell us how much cash you have in the bank and how much you spend on broccoli a week blah blah blah....
We don't HAVE any utility bills yet ..... we don't KNOW anybody yet and ........... we don't particularly go all out to fill ourselves up with the green wintery vegetable stuff - yet.
So. We continue to wait around for a decision on our future and idle our time away at the beach playing swingball and diving under the sun parasol for relief from the sun.
We're still in something of a holiday mode, what with going out for meals and drinking beer when we get home.
But this really feels like home. I feel at home. Thanks to mobile phones and Skype video calling, I've never been cut off from my home town. Although I'm actually dreading my next mobile phone bill, I don't really care what it amounts to.
You can't put a price on "home".
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