THESE kids of our are growing huge! I'm not sure whether it's the sunshine or the sport that's making them sprout up but sprouting up they are.
We have a couple of visitors scheduled to land on our doorstep over the next few months and I'm sure they won't believe their eyes as to how much they've grown. My 11-year-old now measures in at a whopping 5ft 7in - whopping for an 11-year-old!
He obviously has his mother's genes - who continues to have trouble getting trousers long enough. Although I did discover last week that my much missed and beloved Next store now delivers Down Under for $7.95. A small price to pay for something I miss so badly. It was MY store. A store where I knew I'd get sorted with whatever I needed. And it's sorely missed.
But to be honest, I don't have any time to shop. My days and nights are filled with work, social times with friends and the continual refubishment of this gaff. Every day we get a little closer to the conversion of an ugly duckling into a beautiful swan.
There's not enough time in the days though to get this operation underway and converted the way I'd like it. Poor long suffering husband gets up each morning at 5am for his work and has to re-start when he gets home doing the DIY he has become so good at. And I have gotten used to.
I want this and this and this and that... and I don't want it tomorrow. I want it NOW. I want an extra bedroom and I want it NOW. I want a big kitchen and I want it NOW. I want a massive fridge with an ice machine and filtered chilled water dispenser and I want it NOW!
I just have to remain a little patient and keep chipping away at the project we have on our hands. We have a fibreglas swimming pool sitting on the back garden like a randomly landed UFO just waiting to be installed and it's solar powered heating sits in the back of my car until such time as the 12x4m hole gets dug.
But we have plenty of time on our hands I suppose to get these things done. Good things come to those who wait, eh??
Monday, 27 June 2011
Tuesday, 31 May 2011
Working girl
THIS past month has seen aplenty. I was offered a new desk job out of the blue that now sees me working two jobs totalling a 40hr+ week. And I'm exhausted.
Not a lover of things that change, I'm not doing too bad in my acceptance. Although I'd rest a little easier if I could shed a few of those forty hours to spend time organising home life as I see fit.
The boys are getting to the stage where they need to be here, there and everywhere for sports events and training and socialising ... and even the school pick up now we live more than an ample stone's throw away from the school gates.
So to fill my working week, I work two days being part of a busy team at a pest control company working a desk job to rid the peninsula of its eebie-jeebies. And there's plenty of them by my reckoning. Not that I've actually seen any yet but they're definitely out there - as the office records show.
And for four days - two full and two in part - I rock up as a receptionist at a local and groovy hair salon. My bosses - an extremely successful businesswoman and her extremely hard-working husband - are just gorgeous. They treat me like a princess and ooze a nature that I warmed to in seconds.
In the early days, I must admit to feeling a tad jaded that the job wasn't for me and felt an uneasiness that came with the role of 'looking after' a well established group of young female hair stylists and what they were all about ... but the marital management team gave me the gusto to get on with it and gets things under my wing.
So after unexpectedly landing myself all this extra work, some girlfriends suggested we escape the Melbourne winter for a four night stay on the Gold Coast to celebrate the 40th birthdays of two of the girls. From which we've just returned.
Six of us boarded the jet for a quickie two hour flight north, met by a stretch limo and pinstriped driver. Champers on the way to our new temporary home was served up while we giggled like teenagers on their way to a Blue Light disco.
Our 33rd floor apartment took in oceanic views and throughout our stay at Surfers Paradise, we laughed and talked and drank and chilled. Peppered with the odd bit of goldfish racing, we came to the end of our stay and headed back to our husbands and families.
Now it's back to reality and the 40hr+ working weeks that put us in the commanding position to be able to live this lifestyle we're living. And loving...
Not a lover of things that change, I'm not doing too bad in my acceptance. Although I'd rest a little easier if I could shed a few of those forty hours to spend time organising home life as I see fit.
The boys are getting to the stage where they need to be here, there and everywhere for sports events and training and socialising ... and even the school pick up now we live more than an ample stone's throw away from the school gates.
So to fill my working week, I work two days being part of a busy team at a pest control company working a desk job to rid the peninsula of its eebie-jeebies. And there's plenty of them by my reckoning. Not that I've actually seen any yet but they're definitely out there - as the office records show.
And for four days - two full and two in part - I rock up as a receptionist at a local and groovy hair salon. My bosses - an extremely successful businesswoman and her extremely hard-working husband - are just gorgeous. They treat me like a princess and ooze a nature that I warmed to in seconds.
In the early days, I must admit to feeling a tad jaded that the job wasn't for me and felt an uneasiness that came with the role of 'looking after' a well established group of young female hair stylists and what they were all about ... but the marital management team gave me the gusto to get on with it and gets things under my wing.
So after unexpectedly landing myself all this extra work, some girlfriends suggested we escape the Melbourne winter for a four night stay on the Gold Coast to celebrate the 40th birthdays of two of the girls. From which we've just returned.
Six of us boarded the jet for a quickie two hour flight north, met by a stretch limo and pinstriped driver. Champers on the way to our new temporary home was served up while we giggled like teenagers on their way to a Blue Light disco.
Our 33rd floor apartment took in oceanic views and throughout our stay at Surfers Paradise, we laughed and talked and drank and chilled. Peppered with the odd bit of goldfish racing, we came to the end of our stay and headed back to our husbands and families.
Now it's back to reality and the 40hr+ working weeks that put us in the commanding position to be able to live this lifestyle we're living. And loving...
Sunday, 1 May 2011
Testing times
EASTER came and went for another year for the Pughs on the peninsula. It mirrored past years - chocolate eggs, meeting friends, school holidays, visits from a certain long-eared and whiskered mammal.
But one thing was different this year - after youngest son stood on a discarded open rusty tin can lid - in typically Australian barefoot style.
We spent a few days over the five day Easter break with friends on a campsite two hours' drive away from home. The jetskis were out, as was their boat, and the kids were loving the campfire style life. I was determined this camping trip not to be dubbed the one who took too much stuff that's never used so I packed simply this time. Just one change of clothes and a toothbrush each. Too easy.
Although I did regret this minimalist style of living when I saw the 2 inch laceration to the underside of my boy's left foot. Begging, stealing and borrowing teatowels and anything I could get my hands on to stop the blood flow, we left the
camping commune and set off in search of some sterile solution and stitches.
Sure enough, we stumbled across a hospital and were seen by the triage who put the boy in a wheelchair and a line of priority. Two hours later, we were called and a bed was found for the little fella. After a few goes to get anaesthetic
into his foot we decided it best to send him to la-la land and have a little sleep while he got fixed up.
It took longer for him to come round than it did the whole stitching up process - but not without a few giggles. He was telling us all about his dream as a fish and he regressed to being a two year old with his mannerisms and jokes. Little
did we know that seeing him there with a drip in his arm and an oxygen mask over his face was going to be such a familiar sight over the week that followed.
He was re-admitted to hospital with an infection and set up on the children's ward with intravenous antibiotics every four hours for three days.
After surgery number three and a heap of morphine, he was discharged at dinnertime on Friday and we arrived home just in time to see the Royal wedding live on TV. The media coverage of the event has been massive over here and to be honest, I haven't really paid that much attention to it all.
But when the big day came, I got all patriotic and watched with interest. If the little fella would have stayed in again that night, I would have been sharing the parent's overnight room with the mother of my boy's room mate - it turns out both of us have each worked - at different times - under the leadership of the same editor back in the UK.
It's amazing how far you can travel and have so much in common with total strangers so we've exchanged numbers and will have another trip down memory lane in a few weeks - when our boys are on the mend and ready to kick a football around again. And that day can't come soon enough...
But one thing was different this year - after youngest son stood on a discarded open rusty tin can lid - in typically Australian barefoot style.
We spent a few days over the five day Easter break with friends on a campsite two hours' drive away from home. The jetskis were out, as was their boat, and the kids were loving the campfire style life. I was determined this camping trip not to be dubbed the one who took too much stuff that's never used so I packed simply this time. Just one change of clothes and a toothbrush each. Too easy.
Although I did regret this minimalist style of living when I saw the 2 inch laceration to the underside of my boy's left foot. Begging, stealing and borrowing teatowels and anything I could get my hands on to stop the blood flow, we left the
camping commune and set off in search of some sterile solution and stitches.
Sure enough, we stumbled across a hospital and were seen by the triage who put the boy in a wheelchair and a line of priority. Two hours later, we were called and a bed was found for the little fella. After a few goes to get anaesthetic
into his foot we decided it best to send him to la-la land and have a little sleep while he got fixed up.
It took longer for him to come round than it did the whole stitching up process - but not without a few giggles. He was telling us all about his dream as a fish and he regressed to being a two year old with his mannerisms and jokes. Little
did we know that seeing him there with a drip in his arm and an oxygen mask over his face was going to be such a familiar sight over the week that followed.
He was re-admitted to hospital with an infection and set up on the children's ward with intravenous antibiotics every four hours for three days.
After surgery number three and a heap of morphine, he was discharged at dinnertime on Friday and we arrived home just in time to see the Royal wedding live on TV. The media coverage of the event has been massive over here and to be honest, I haven't really paid that much attention to it all.
But when the big day came, I got all patriotic and watched with interest. If the little fella would have stayed in again that night, I would have been sharing the parent's overnight room with the mother of my boy's room mate - it turns out both of us have each worked - at different times - under the leadership of the same editor back in the UK.
It's amazing how far you can travel and have so much in common with total strangers so we've exchanged numbers and will have another trip down memory lane in a few weeks - when our boys are on the mend and ready to kick a football around again. And that day can't come soon enough...
Wednesday, 30 March 2011
Proud moment
IT was a proud moment for me last weekend - for one, our eldest was chosen as part of a school rugby team to play in the interval of a national game in Melbourne.
We set off citybound in the sunshine and met up with other parents outside the AAMI Park stadium - one of the newest additions to Melbourne's sporting arenas, opened last May.
Being home ground to the NRL's Melbourne Storm team, the arena was the venue for our Saturday night of pre-show entertainment, sporting hi-jinx and welcome return of the Storm team after a suspension saw them off the field last season.
After a salary cap breach, NRL chief exec, David Gallop, stripped the Melbourne Storm of their 2007 and 2009 premierships and their 2006, 2007 and 2008 minor premierships, fined them an Australian sporting record $1,689,000, deducted all eight premiership points they had already received in the 2010 season, and barred them from receiving premiership points for the rest of the season.
So their return game was a biggie and seeing one of our two sons out there, in the middle of the turf, chucking a rugger ball to his fellow team-mates was the absolute highlight for us.
His 15 minutes of fame was a little shortlived but it was long enough for me to receive a text from a friend watching the game at home back on the peninsula who asked where we were. She and her family were watching the game on TV and spotted our boy on the field during half time.
But the second proud moment for me was standing up and singing the Australian National Anthem with the other 14 and half thousand people alongside us.
Belting out the words 'Beneath our radiant Southern Cross, we'll toll with hearts and hands, to make this Commonwealth of ours renowned of all the lands. For those who've come across the seas we've boundless plains to share, with courage let us all combine to advance Australia fair...' is always a spine tingler for me - be it during school assemblies or major sporting events.
With a patriotic hand on heart, I'm looking forward to seeing off the next two years Down Under so we can then apply for Citizenship of this beautiful land... by which time our house will have been totally renovated and I can sit back, relax and count my many, many blessings.
We set off citybound in the sunshine and met up with other parents outside the AAMI Park stadium - one of the newest additions to Melbourne's sporting arenas, opened last May.
Being home ground to the NRL's Melbourne Storm team, the arena was the venue for our Saturday night of pre-show entertainment, sporting hi-jinx and welcome return of the Storm team after a suspension saw them off the field last season.
After a salary cap breach, NRL chief exec, David Gallop, stripped the Melbourne Storm of their 2007 and 2009 premierships and their 2006, 2007 and 2008 minor premierships, fined them an Australian sporting record $1,689,000, deducted all eight premiership points they had already received in the 2010 season, and barred them from receiving premiership points for the rest of the season.
So their return game was a biggie and seeing one of our two sons out there, in the middle of the turf, chucking a rugger ball to his fellow team-mates was the absolute highlight for us.
His 15 minutes of fame was a little shortlived but it was long enough for me to receive a text from a friend watching the game at home back on the peninsula who asked where we were. She and her family were watching the game on TV and spotted our boy on the field during half time.
But the second proud moment for me was standing up and singing the Australian National Anthem with the other 14 and half thousand people alongside us.
Belting out the words 'Beneath our radiant Southern Cross, we'll toll with hearts and hands, to make this Commonwealth of ours renowned of all the lands. For those who've come across the seas we've boundless plains to share, with courage let us all combine to advance Australia fair...' is always a spine tingler for me - be it during school assemblies or major sporting events.
With a patriotic hand on heart, I'm looking forward to seeing off the next two years Down Under so we can then apply for Citizenship of this beautiful land... by which time our house will have been totally renovated and I can sit back, relax and count my many, many blessings.
Monday, 28 February 2011
What a co-incidence...
WHAT a surprise I got out shopping the other week, when I stumbled across a lass who would've been a relative neighbour - had we both been in our original home towns.
In the middle of my local shopping centre, I was stopped by a young guy who was doing some promo work for the Australian Red Cross. He commented on my smile (that I HAD one) and from chatting a-while, we discovered we had something in common - we were Poms.
Upon further investigation, he discovered I was from North Wales - as was his nowhere to be seen colleague. He looked desperately around the centre in search of her to bring her over to meet me but I was keen to shop and said I'd drop by on the way out.
All eyes were on me as I sauntered out of the store some 20 minutes later and I was thrown into the clutches of the promo team. I thought it was just a ploy to get me to sign up to spending $25 a month with them, but I was wrong.
I was introduced to a lively young thing who, indeed, shared the same geographical UK home area to me. I was from Buckley, she was from Llanferres. I worked at the Evening Leader. So did she...
At this point, eyes widened and it was unearthed I've worked in the same office as her stepfather for many years! She knows the same people I do. I know the pub that was her local. We spent a good 20 minutes reminiscing our past - so much so
I invited her round to ours the following night for a real catch up.
What a co-incidence that I can be handpicked out from the crowd from the middle of a shopping mall in Mornington and stumble across a chance meeting like this.
She now has gone further afield with her work and said she'd give me a call if she was re-visiting the area. My phone will be waiting for the call and my wine cooler will be stocked up ready...
In the middle of my local shopping centre, I was stopped by a young guy who was doing some promo work for the Australian Red Cross. He commented on my smile (that I HAD one) and from chatting a-while, we discovered we had something in common - we were Poms.
Upon further investigation, he discovered I was from North Wales - as was his nowhere to be seen colleague. He looked desperately around the centre in search of her to bring her over to meet me but I was keen to shop and said I'd drop by on the way out.
All eyes were on me as I sauntered out of the store some 20 minutes later and I was thrown into the clutches of the promo team. I thought it was just a ploy to get me to sign up to spending $25 a month with them, but I was wrong.
I was introduced to a lively young thing who, indeed, shared the same geographical UK home area to me. I was from Buckley, she was from Llanferres. I worked at the Evening Leader. So did she...
At this point, eyes widened and it was unearthed I've worked in the same office as her stepfather for many years! She knows the same people I do. I know the pub that was her local. We spent a good 20 minutes reminiscing our past - so much so
I invited her round to ours the following night for a real catch up.
What a co-incidence that I can be handpicked out from the crowd from the middle of a shopping mall in Mornington and stumble across a chance meeting like this.
She now has gone further afield with her work and said she'd give me a call if she was re-visiting the area. My phone will be waiting for the call and my wine cooler will be stocked up ready...
Friday, 28 January 2011
.... and relax
THE Queensland flood tragedies are reminiscent of our early days in Australia. Although our tragic circumstances were fires, it's been widespread news that floods can do equally as much, if not more, damage to the communities they hit. And hit hard.
And the same way Ozzies north and south rallied around to raise cash for Victoria's bushfire victims almost two years ago, it's now time to send dollars up north for those affected by the torrential floods that have destroyed lives, homes, crops and incomes.
The weather these days is, as my boys say, "freaky." Hearing stories from UK over the past few weeks and how minus 20 is having to be endured, I can only shudder at the thought of bearing those temperatures. Never, in my 40 odd years in the UK, can I remember jaw dropping temps like that. I remember moaning a few months ago, in the height of winter here, how cold it was and how I longed for summer days. But a winter's day of 7C is nothing to be a whingeing Pom about and it seems now, I have nothing to complain about.
We're now in the height of summer down here in Melbourne although we've been getting temperatures of 28C, overcast and a bit gloomy. But today, after work, we met friends down at the beach and watched the boys dabble with their snorkels while we watched from the shore with a beer. Sunday is promising a 40-degreer so I envisage nipping down to the sea as soon as I finish my 7am-3pm shift after spending most of the day in the air con at work.
But before I do that, I have to transport youngest son half way round the state to take part in a basketball tournament. From Friday night, the wee fella is down to play seven games before the end of play on Sunday. I've just finished finalising a car share with another little player's mum and I think we have it sorted. Not that I'm exactly looking forward to cruising up and down the freeways in search of sport stadiums all weekend. But I have to remind myself that this reason is one of the many why we decided on moving out here anyway.
Sport features highly on the kids' activity lists these days and I'm glad. I'm also glad we have fantastic beaches and scenery right on our very doorstep that's accessible as soon as we're done with our running around. It makes it all very, very worthwhile...
And the same way Ozzies north and south rallied around to raise cash for Victoria's bushfire victims almost two years ago, it's now time to send dollars up north for those affected by the torrential floods that have destroyed lives, homes, crops and incomes.
The weather these days is, as my boys say, "freaky." Hearing stories from UK over the past few weeks and how minus 20 is having to be endured, I can only shudder at the thought of bearing those temperatures. Never, in my 40 odd years in the UK, can I remember jaw dropping temps like that. I remember moaning a few months ago, in the height of winter here, how cold it was and how I longed for summer days. But a winter's day of 7C is nothing to be a whingeing Pom about and it seems now, I have nothing to complain about.
We're now in the height of summer down here in Melbourne although we've been getting temperatures of 28C, overcast and a bit gloomy. But today, after work, we met friends down at the beach and watched the boys dabble with their snorkels while we watched from the shore with a beer. Sunday is promising a 40-degreer so I envisage nipping down to the sea as soon as I finish my 7am-3pm shift after spending most of the day in the air con at work.
But before I do that, I have to transport youngest son half way round the state to take part in a basketball tournament. From Friday night, the wee fella is down to play seven games before the end of play on Sunday. I've just finished finalising a car share with another little player's mum and I think we have it sorted. Not that I'm exactly looking forward to cruising up and down the freeways in search of sport stadiums all weekend. But I have to remind myself that this reason is one of the many why we decided on moving out here anyway.
Sport features highly on the kids' activity lists these days and I'm glad. I'm also glad we have fantastic beaches and scenery right on our very doorstep that's accessible as soon as we're done with our running around. It makes it all very, very worthwhile...
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