Preparing for school...

Dylan has been counting down the sleeps until he finally starts kindy (again). Now it's just 14 hours to go and he is beside himself with excitement.

There is a sense of deja vu - this time last year he had just started at Hilltop in England. But this time it feel like a real rite of passage, rather than a hurried item on my moving-to-do list. All his friends start tomorrow (or today) and we spent the Australia Day weekend at various BBQs, holding photo shoots of the school age group.

He has spent so much of this summer holiday wearing his uniform that both t-shirts are stained and need soaking (I realise this 15 hours before the big first day, of course - lucky I found that extra emergency t-shirt still wrapped in the back of the wardrobe.)

I will probably need a few more emergency t-shirts, as we have just lost our laundry. We are starting our big renovation (phase one) and the back of the house is completely sealed off and wrapped in dusty plastic. In 6 weeks time (if it doesn't rain) we should have a brand new shiny bathroom/laundry. That seems a long time to be doing my washing outside in the tarp-covered machine.

Dylan spent his last day of school holidays being completely indulged by me (what's new?) After a swim at Leichhardt pool with his pre-school friends (who are also in a frenzy of excitement) we saw The Waterhorse at the cinema and had a special mummy-dylan lunch. I will miss his company during the week. But I feel very ready to let go too!

At least tomorrow is not forecast to be cold and windy and wet - as it was on his first day of school last year. I am sure it will all go according to the plan he has formed inside his expectant brain. When asked what he is looking forward to most about school, he replied; "the work." Asked if he meant the reading and writing he said: "no, the cutting out and colouring in!"

Fashion trends for 2008

Sam says:

This year I will mostly be wearing underpants on my head. And sometimes on
my bottom too.

Summertime… and the living is easy

Christmas on Sapphire Beach

This will be remembered as the summer holiday where Dylan discovered books. Chapter books that grip you ‘til the very end. Unfortunately he can’t read, so it is also the summer holiday that Jason and I tag-teamed on endless chapters of Fantastic Mr Fox and the Usborne book of Illustrated Stories for Boys.

It will also be remembered as the holiday where Sam slept in a big boy bed for the first time. A trundle bed that rolled beneath Pete’s study daybed. Much comfier than the travel cot, but the cause of desperate attempts to get him to stay there at night time. Up and down, up and down until after 9pm most nights. We dropped the day naps in the end.

It is the first holiday where Dylan and Sam have really played together, constantly and for long periods even though it usually ends in tears. Setting up camps and schools on the deck, digging enormous holes on the beach. Sam really missed sharing a room with his big brother, and on the first morning woke him up with a hearty “I miss you, Di-Da!” Poor Dylan was lucky to get any sleep-ins at all, Sam was always so keen to set off to the beach (with his big brother) from the moment he awoke.

The soundtrack to this summer holiday includes Jingle Bells (sung by Sam, nosily), It’s Raining Men (which Dylan and Sam think is a hilarious concept) and Sk8ter Boi, which Dylan thinks is all about him, as Santa came good on the promise of a skateboard. This hasn’t been tested on a ramp yet though – its main purpose so far is as a make believe car ferry boat transporting matchbox cars up and down the deck. I’m quite happy to leave it this way.

Santa found us, thanks to the various notes Dylan carefully left around the house. He was instructed (by Dylan) to leave his gifts at the foot of the wood burning stove. Dylan explained to me earnestly that Santa would definitely fit down the narrow chimney “’cos it’s magic, mum”. Sam preferred all of Dylan’s presents to his own, but was quite happy with his Lightning McQueen racing track once the batteries made it work.

We've fit our usual north coast activities in between many trips to the beach and lazy afternoons on the deck. Mooching around Bellingen estate agent windows, pretending we have enough cash to buy a Promised Land retreat. Coffee at Riverstone and Lodge 241 cafes, the butterfly maze, the steam train at Glenreagh and the not-quite-as-exciting mini railway at the Clog Barn. We have managed to avoid the Big Banana, apart from the thrilling game of being the first to shout Bingo! when we see it on our many trips back and forth.

Today was the day of the Big Wave – the tsunami of Sapphire that knocked Dylan off his feet and sent Sam wailing. It took out the whole beach shoreline and swept our beach bag out to sea. Luckily Jason rescued a damp copy of Fantastic Mr Fox, otherwise we would never know what happened next.

Crashing back to reality, via the holiday traffic snarl, on Tuesday. It has been such a good break I can hardly bear to think about it. Happy New Year!

Back to school

Yesterday was Dylan's first day at his new school, Sam's first day at his new child care and my first day at work.

And what a difference for Dylan, compared with his first day at Hilltop Infants School in England just 10 months ago. For a start, it was warm and sunny and we were more concerned with sunscreen than padded coats and wellies. His pre-school is in the grounds of Annandale Public School, where he will start kindy next January. It takes about 3 minutes to walk from our house, depending on how quickly the traffic lights change on Johnson St - not a 15 minutes drive behind a slow tractor to Ashbourne.

He and Sam were so excited, with their school backpacks and gear, that we were running about an hour ahead of schedule - no mean feat on a Monday morning. Sam raced off to play with the trains at nursery, without so much as a backwards glance - the extra time I had allowed to settle him in was completely unnecessary. So Dylan and I hung out at the school playground for over half an hour, checking out the big kids in their school uniforms. It was the longest 40 minutes of my life, he was just so keen to get to his new class and meet his new friends.

There is no school uniform this year, and two huge playgrounds just for the pre-school. The outside space definitely appeals to him after all the rain and indoor days in England. But of course I have to negotiate the hat wearing - no hat, no outside play in this part of the world.

That afternoon when I picked him up I asked him who he had played with and what he had done that day. Rather than the sullen "no one... nothing" that I usually get, he rushed to tell me about the bike track, the silk worms, the stories, the toys. "And mum... we didn't do reading and writing at all - we just play ALL DAY."

Well, I guess he should make the most of it. Next year will mark the beginning of his 12 years at school. And that is a daunting thought for us all. Now I just have to work out how to compress my work day into the 5 1/2 hours the school run allows me. All advice welcome!

Home sweet home...

It didn't take much for Dylan and Sam to re-adjust to life in Sydney. Two weeks of sunshine, beaches, swimming pools and boat trips, and Yew Tree Cottage, horses, lambs and rolling green hills have been all but forgotten.

Sam still describes his plane journey to everyone who will listen: "I went up in the sky... wooosh... and then down boom boom". This version of events equates perfectly to his experience as he fell asleep as soon as we took off in Singapore, and only woke up when we landed in Sydney with a bump (boom boom). Dylan has slight traces of his English accent, but it is disappearing quickly as he picks up with his old friends again in the playgrounds of the inner west.

For me, though, the re-adjustment has been slightly harder. First of all the crashing reality of unpacking our former life, all musty and mildewy. Once the dust cleared and the boot loads of stuff I forgot we ever had and no longer needed had been taken away - to the tip or to charity, depending on their mould levels - things felt slightly more real. And of course it has been wonderful to see all our friends and family again... but I must admit to the occasional longing for the cosy aga (even when the temperature outside soars to bushfire levels), and wishing we had done a few more of the many things on my "to do list" in Derbyshire.

Which means, of course, that this blog is not over, as our eight feet are still itching to various degrees. Maybe they will travel more across Australia for the next year or so, or maybe we will find a way to get abroad again soon. What I do know now is:

• Travelling with small children gets easier as they get older (what a huge difference between flying with Sam at 16 months, and again at 2 and a bit.)


• Always stopover. Sentosa Island is the perfect place for kids to break the London to Sydney route. Dubai may be the answer for Australia to Europe flight (let me know!) Either way, the result is no jetlag (yes, truly, NO jetlag) and that makes for happy mums and dads.

So... stay tuned for more Howard family adventures!

Dismantling a life - part 2

I am sitting in an empty house, putting off cleaning windows and skirting boards for another hour. We have 4 suitcases and 3 beds, 2 folding garden chairs and a portable DVD player. That's about it. The beds will be picked up over the next 2 days, the chairs will be donated, and then we move on to a serviced apartment in Derby, then the Heathrow Novotel (via Legoland), and then onto our plane - homeward bound.

I have felt strangely serene since the packers took away most of our stuff. Now I can see past the piles of accumulated possessions to the final tasks in our move. The smallest details occupy my mind in the wee small hours - where is my Australian mobile sim card, what is my Westpac pin number, how can I thank all Dylan's teachers and friends and school?

Dylan told everyone at school on Monday that we were leaving the next day. I can see how he made the mistake - the momentum of the sorting and packing over the weekend, knowing the shippers were coming that day and the repeated mantra "not long now..." whenever he fussed. But his headmistress cornered me on Tuesday morning to say goodbye, along with all the parents and other teachers. She was visibly relieved when I explained he would be there until Friday, as his favourite teacher from last term, Mrs Fearn, had been almost in tears at the thought she wouldn't be able to say goodbye to him.

Maybe he is just milking the attention for all it's worth. But there is no doubt that the emotional strain of another move is also showing in him. Sam of course, has no clue what is happening - except that most of his toys have vanished. He seems to be just as happy playing with an empty toilet roll and a toothbrush though.

Dylan's first words as he came home from school on Monday were "let's play trains!" I explained the trains were gone, in the container. "Oh. Well, can I ride my scooter?" Also gone. "What? Well can I have some juice in the spiral cup?" Also gone. Even his bed sheets had been packed, he is sleeping under a naked duvet. We had the momentary "where's bunny?" panic that night, wondering if Sam's essential best friend bunny had also been shipped in the container by mistake. But thankfully Sam had just carefully packed bunny into his on-board-wheelie-suitcase.

One of Dylan's last English adventures was a boys weekend in London with Daddy. Very grown up, taking the train down and staying in a hotel for the night. I was rather jealous! They managed to fit in the Tower of London, Changing of the Guards, Buckingham Palace, Science Museum and of course Hamley's - as well as rides on buses, tubes, taxis and trains. Hamley's ("the world's finest toy store") will remain Dylan's all time favourite thing about this country, and I wonder if it will be his first stop when he returns aged 18 with a backpack, in his gap year?

Dismantling a life

We have less than two weeks left in Yew Tree Cottage. My heart sinks as I type this fact. Mainly because the sorting and the packing looms largely above me, but also because I really will miss this cosy cottage. And lately it has seemed far more important to enjoy these last few days watching the horses practise their jumps outside the conservatory window, or play swirly tennis with Dylan and Sam in the garden, or discover yet another fabulous national trust home on our doorstep, than actually getting down to the nuts and bolts of dismantling our life here.

I have already had 14 successful eBay auctions, and promised most of the furniture to an assortment of friends. The rest can go to charity shops (or be dumped with those same friends) in our last week. The packers arrive next Monday morning to send the things we do want to keep back to Sydney on a slow boat.

The only logistical hiccup seems to be getting rid of the two cars - not only have we not had a single call from our autotrader ad, but one also suffered some serious rear bumper damage last week when some @#$% swiped it reversing out of the carpark. No note was left, so we must suffer the excess and also the trauma of convincing the garage to fit it in for repair before a buyer (hopefully) appears.

We have had so many uniquely English experiences that it seems appropriate to list them now, before I forget in the trauma of my post-long-haul-flight-with-kids-disorder...

• Playing russian roulette turning right on a hedge lined road (I now wind down my windows so I can hear oncoming traffic, since I have no hope of seeing it until it is too late)


• Long summer evenings (pretending it is warm) enjoying a pint of local ale while the kids play on the pub's playground equipment


• Watching "our" horses gallop across "our" field as the sun sets over the hills


• Waking up to a pile of dry laundry on the Aga, which if I fold it correctly (it's a knack) doesn't need ironing


• Scrambled eggs made from freshly laid eggs by the chooks next door (thanks to Farmer Les for dropping them around)


• The delights of an Ocado delivery (friendly, prompt, with divine Waitrose food sorted into colour coded bags and delivered to my fridge)


• The school run, through winding tree tunnels, spotting sheep and cows amidst the dramatic peaks and dales

And what will the boys miss? Sam will wonder where all the tractors, sheep and cows are. But he will love pointing at the planes and buses instead. Dylan will miss his mates, it has to be said. And he will miss the history and museums we have been able to enjoy. But I think a ferry ride, a trip to the beach, chicken and chips from Balmain Spitroast, and a decent coffee from Hopscotch will make us all very, very happy indeed.