Of Christmas trees and tea towels

Last weekend I set about the task of organising a Christmas tree. Traditionally we get the Christmas tree (or trees) up around the time primary school finishes - sometimes a little earlier. I have tried to delay it until after Jon's birthday on the 19th of December to try and separate the two events but he kind of likes being a Christmas baby.

Of course the fact that here he finished school on the 4th December meant the nagging started early this year! There's not a lot of room in our apartment so we went for a small six foot tree and as most of our decorations were (a) still in storage and (b) scaled for our 11 foot trees in New Zealand we spent up large at the $2 shop on small decorations, with a few additions from Oxfam and David Jones.

Then after much convolution the last of shipment was finally moved to storage close by where we have 24/7 access so we were able to get the boxes of Christmas decorations. While the main thing I wanted out of the boxes were the nativity sets I unwrapped everything (still looking for those remotes!) So many memories of children choosing in the Kirkcaldies Christmas shop each year and gifts from family and friends. I kept out a few but had to keep reminding myself that next year we'll have more space, and be able to hang them all again. In the meantime Jon was pretty excited to finally get a Christmas train to go around the tree!

As for the tea towels - last weekend Nick was back in New Zealand in the far North for his uncle's funeral. They stopped in at the Stone Store in Kerikeri and he bought me these seriously cool tea towels. They are a little bit retro and very NZ - he even had them go out the back and find a kea one. Now while gifts of tea towels always remind me of a hysterically funny conversation about gifts from mothers in law at a morning tea in Pukekura Park for my friend Teresa's birthday (was it 29 or 30? - too close to 20 years ago for comfort); in this instance I was heart warmed that he had recognised something I would like in the middle of a difficult time and had even gone to the extra effort to get a specific version. He's not a spontaneous gift giver by nature and while he was pleased he got it SO right - now he is worried about how to match it for Christmas!

The problem with hats

The thing is, I love hats - especially pretty ones that remind you of Edwardian garden parties and summer weddings. I just hate wearing them.

In New Zealand I can get away with this most of the time. In winter I can usually make do with loose hoods and wide scarves, and in summer I opt for shade and high SPF sunblock. It is rare for me to feel any need for the shade of hat brim. But here in Brisbane it is a bit of a different story.

The thing I dislike is the feeling of something going around my head, the very thought of it gives me a headache. And of course my youngest child seems to have inherited this

aversion as well. I have tried lots of different hats but they really do annoy me. But I'm also finding that going without head covering when I'm out in the middle of the day is also quite uncomfortable.

I think I may have already provided myself with an option when I consider my winter alternatives. I might invest in some more light silk scarves.

And along comes Christmas

I have developed this theory, that from about the beginning of November time falls into this vortex that spins faster than the rest of the year, so that the last two months of the year flash by.

All of a sudden it is only a few weeks to Christmas and I feel caught unprepared again. And this year it's compounded by working out which bits of Christmas we'll do here in Brisbane and which bits will fall by the wayside. Will I do the Christmas baking I usually do? Will we have a whole turkey? What about decorations? A tree?

Today I started to make decisions almost sub-conciously. I bought a copy of the November Cuisine magazine without even looking inside - partially cos the cover is typically beautiful, partially cos I buy it most years, but also because I know it always has a range of food options - from the traditional spread to dinner for two. I have a Christmas recipe folder as well with the torn out pages from previous years editions. I'm also hoping that the review of bubbles might help me traverse the Australian shelves even if the old favorites are absent.

Walking through the market this morning I was already starting to plan some Christmas shopping (although shhhh - the bracelet I bought for $10 which Nick thinks I got for one of the girls is actually MINE!) We actually collectively decided our four older children's presents over coffee, and I picked up a couple of small things for the beginnings of extended family presents in the shop by the bus stop that caught my eye.

The trickier questions are the logistics of getting the boxes of Christmas decorations from storage over the next couple of weeks. I saw a great little tree with lights at Target this afternoon that will be rather swamped by our decorations scaled for an 11 foot tree! And it is tempting to do something different this year and leave the stored stuff until next year when we plan to have a larger apartment with our own furniture.

In the meantime I've just checked that the first Sunday of Advent is next Sunday (not this) and am contemplating what Jon might need for this season to be special. Last year was going to be the last year we had a Playmobil Advent calendar but I'm wondering if we need either one more or something to replace it. Plus the more I think about it, the more I want to have an Advent wreath even though I have no idea where to get the greenary. And maybe I'll give in to the allure of the lights in the supermarket and we'll do something festive on the balcony.

That's as far as I've got for now...

It's in the usual place

That was the text Tash sent me about where to find the car when I arrived in Wellington tonight. I was thinking about that as I drove "home", and I thought that it goes quite a way to explaining some decisions we've been coming to in the past couple of weeks.

One of the main things I've realised is that this move is a bit different than previous ones. There is a process you go through after a big re-location where you need to adjust to being in the new place. It's not just getting used to living in a new place - it's the emotional disengagement from the old one. The thing is that this time half our family is still in Lower Hutt and as a family there is still a certain need to have somewhere we can all be together that is ours.

So we've decided that we may not rent our house out again in January so we still have a home to go to when we are in New Zealand. Tonight I had to detour through Evans Bay as the Terrace Tunnel is being closed for maintenance and as I watched the lights of Wellington and Petone reveal themselves along the foreshore, I felt the unwinding of being in a safe familiar place. For me both/and has always worked better than either/or. I can live both in New Zealand and Australia and love both of them for the unique things they have to offer.

The quality of light

I remember many years ago watching a programme on the development of a distinctive New Zealand and Australian school of art, which placed heavy emphasis on the influence of the different kind of light that exists in the Southern Hemisphere.

I was thinking about that as I drove home tonight - perhaps because that difference is most evident as we begin to loose the light. Brisbane doesn't have daylight saving and I'd say 5.45 pm pretty much matches the sunset level we get in New Zealand at 8 or later by this time of year. The motorway is, by and large, tree lined for most of the drive and the definition of the leaves as the light just begins to fade is truly beautiful. Tonight it crossed my mind that sub consciously it is almost like driving down some of my favorite roads on the West Coast.

It is also a light that, while Antipodean, is also subtly different from Christchurch or Wellington. I decided today that I think it is slight more yellow, or stays yellow for longer - it has the warmth of the desert rather than the coolness of mountains and sea.

I'm hoping there is enough sun when I get back to New Zealand this weekend to make a decent comparison!

No longer a tourist

The moment comes when you realise that you are no longer looking around you with the eyes of a stranger. Since getting back from New Zealand on Monday I'm increasingly aware that we have probably begun to cross that bridge of behaving a bit like we are tourists on holiday in a new city to a being actually resident.

The first clue I had was talking to work colleagues about bringing Jon's skateboard through the Australian equivalent of MAF inspectors. In describing the tense moment where we wondered if his decidedly scruffy wooden deck and slightly rusted wheels would get through I said "I was really worried what would happen if he couldn't take it home after bringing it all that way". I even paused after I said it, realising that even a week ago I would have probably phrased it differently with NZ being home e.g. "he couldn't get it into the country after bringing it from home".

Then a couple of evenings later we were walking through the central city (on a mission to get new grip tape for scruffy skateboard) and I was thinking what a lovely evening it was, and how nice it would be to have dinner in one of the sidewalk cafes around the corner from our apartment. This was of course while all my NZ friends were discussing heavy wind and rain. But again there was no mental comparison - this compared to that - it just was.

There are lots of other little things as well - the jigsaw puzzle of the main routes we travel falling into place so we now only use the GPS if we are going somewhere totally new. The weekend routines moving to something a bit more laid back, as opposed to "what shall we go and see today". Jon beginning to have friends over and starting to tell me he can go places by himself e.g. "we can catch the bus into town and go to the movies" (yeah right!) The scenery as I drive to work just being what it is rather than jarring slightly because the trees are wrong. I even managed to remember this weekend that the supermarket closes at 5pm on a Saturday (I kid you not - it ain't all better!)

And I guess that's a pretty big step to feeling "at home"

The mystery box

Those of you who see my status updates on Facebook and Twitter will know that our sea freight delivery wasn't without it's hiccups. We had a missing box - which was found and delivered, however when it was delivered it didn't include all the items I expected. Most importantly it didn't include the best of my yarn stash, some books and software I wanted, and from Nick's perspective the home theatre and projector remote controls.

We had left 5 smaller boxes, all labelled Christmas decorations, in storage. As they were the last to be packed and were fragile it seemed possible that the yarn and remotes had been packed with them. So I arranged with Crown to go and pick them up when I was out that way. This took two attempts as the first time I headed that way, when I had picked up Ana from the airport, we had a call to say there was a gas leak down the street and they had been evacuated. So the next available time was last Monday heading home from our trip to NZ.

Lo and behold what should happen when we got there, but they had found an extra large box that had apparently been missed in the first delivery. They were a little embarrassed about this (not surprisingly) so were very helpful about letting me open the boxes and check for what we were looking for. The large box had several of the things I anticipated arriving several weeks ago including yarn, software, jewellary and nail polish - but sadly -no remotes! Nor does it appear that they are in the smaller boxes either. While I am going to appeal to my children for them to check I am beginning to wonder if I have inadvertently thrown them out with all the packing materials. I don't think I did as I was looking for them from quite early on.

Anyway back to the mystery box which came home with us. It was almost the straw that broke the camel's back of my finding places for everything! It sat half full most of the week while I tried to work out where I would put everything. It probably didn't help that there was an element of
"not sure I really needed this" for a number of items. If I wasn't working full time I'd have been delighted at the extra sewing materials and patterns but as it is they seemed a touch superfluous. Today I sat down with the quilting magazines and extracted only the pages I wanted which reduced the pile substantially. I also sorted through a couple of boxes I'd already put away (again checking for the elusive remotes) and discovered they could be consolidated a bit.

And on a humorous note - Jon was fretting about his Nintendo DS being in the boxes we were going to collect. However when we mentioned this in his elder brother's presence on Friday night while we were in New Zealand, Toby promptly told us that no in wasn't in the boxes it was in his room at the flat; he'd "rescued" it when he saw we'd left it behind. I'm obviously now hoping he may have rescued the remotes as well :)

Stop the clocks

The first image of the Christchurch earthquake that scored a direct hit to the heart for me was the Victoria St clock which had stopped at 4.35 a.m. when the earthquake hit. Largely because it was instantly recognisable, unlike the early images of devastation which just didn't seem to compute.

Most of my friends know that, if asked, I'm a Canterbury girl. I went to school and university in Christchurch, was married there, had my first baby there. The majority of my extended family live there or within it's environs. So on the morning of September 4, when I woke to a text from a friend in Sydney to say she hoped my family were OK after the earthquake, never mind the clocks - my heart stopped. All my family were OK, as were the many friends old and new. But it has been really hard being in Brisbane and so far away.

Which is another part of the reason the clocks (I've now seen a similar photo of a the Railway Station clock) seem so symbolic. That poem used in Four Weddings and a Funeral "Stop all the clocks" is evocative of living somewhere where life goes on when at heart you are in a different place. While I live with the nagging concerns of what the next round of aftershocks might bring and the magnitude of what has happened in a city I love, here everyone goes on oblivious. Certainly I have met with concern from people I work with but for them it is all so far away - and while we are incredibly thankful nobody died...well...nobody died.

But as another friend from Canterbury commented - our memories are interwoven with the urban landscape they took place in. I had seen the pictures of the Rep Theatre several times before someone on Facebook said to me "that's the Rep Theatre" and I was overwhelmed that the damage was such I hadn't even recognised somewhere I had many memories of. And the Railway Clock - how many times did I look up at that while lugging a heavy suitcase down the road to catch the train home from boarding school!

Many of the older buildings, particularly the churches, around where we live were built at a similar time to central Christchurch. Last night, when I was out getting takeaways for dinner, I found myself irrationally annoyed that the church I went past was totally undamaged and untouched by what had happened an ocean away. It was so totally unwarranted but also symbolic of how worried many of us are not just for our friends and family but for the heart of our city that represents the generations that built it.

So to everyone in Christchurch - we are with you in spirit - we can't begin to imagine the ongoing stress of the aftershocks, and the tediousness of the days ahead as the time required for proper repairs eats away at your patience. But we hold you in our hearts, we are proud of what you are achieving, and share your sorrow over what the earth has done to our beautiful city.

My first Australian employment experience

It's the end of day three of my Australian working life and it seems timely to share (tactfully) some first impressions. I'll probably come back tomorrow and add in some pics because they will be worth a thousand words in this case.

Most of my Wellington readers will instantly get a totally false impression when I tell you I am on a three month contract at Queensland State Archives. They will instantly think of National Archives and coffee meetings in the cafe which is the polar opposite of State Archives here.

The two buildings are huge and surrounded by - parkland isn't quite the word - as while it is lovely, probably regenerating, bushland (none of the trees are very big) it isn't cultivated in the way the word parkland implies. You feel like you are miles from anywhere though. There are 96 linear kilometres of storage in the buildings and just under half of that is full. When you come in the staff entrance the first door is to the staff room and that is the ONLY place on site you can have food and drinks other than bottled water. They are obsessive about preventing pests. So you drop off your lunch etc before you go anywhere.

That was probably the first major culture shock - unlike the NZ public service, and most other employers, here tea, coffee, milk and sugar etc are not provided - you have to bring your own. Did I mention that Archives is in the middle of nowhere? The second shock which may be unique to this context are work hours, you aren't allowed to start before 8 a.m and if you are still in the building by 6 p.m. security will escort you out. There are two standard working days 8.30 - 4.15 and 9.15 - 5.00 with two ten minute tea breaks and 30 minutes for lunch. It gets drummed into contractors that you are not to work more than 8 hours in a day as you get time and a half!

Back in NZ I had heard it said that hours aside, the NZ public service works harder than most countries and Education's expectations in terms of projects managed per staff member is higher than most. After three days I'm already going a bit stir crazy because I have one piece of a project to progress. There is the equivalent of two senior policy analysts, and two senior advisors working pretty much full time on implementing a single initiative. They are behind because of staff turn over and related issues, which is where I've come in, but to be honest I'm kind of wondering what I'm going to do next week.

It helps that the Senior Archivist likes the "short story" but I've already whipped out the overdue comms plan to final draft stage, tested and content reviewed a new website subsection (and yes I think the vendor was a little startled to get full test feedback, web standards compliance requests and technical challenges) and drafted a submission to the Director General. And gone through a full induction process and been trained in the electronic document management system. The degree of surprise at what I've already produced wasn't entirely unexpected, but today I realised that the luxury of only having to get my head around ONE initiative had a huge part to play. But lets face it - it could well have a huge part to play in my being bored to tears inside another week!

Last but not least I've realised how much making a hot drink is a ritual when I'm settling into a piece of work. Having to get up and go and have coffee and FINISH it before I go back to my desk is really difficult. The HR person who did the induction commented she drinks far more water than she ever did and I've noticed I'm doing the same. I am a bit concerned though about how I'll do with the email announcements I have to write tomorrow which would normally require a decent latte to mull over as I write. I may end up talking to my manager about taking my laptop down to the staff room when I need to write creatively!

Anticipation is everything

On Friday we finally got confirmation that our sea freight would be delivered on Monday. It had taken a bit of pleading for that to happen as I start work Tuesday and had already informed my new employer I'd be working some four day weeks due to prior commitments. I really didn't want to add another half day for the freight delivery, especially as it was already heading for five weeks late.

Anyway I've noticed that in the last 24 hours I've had a constant low buzz of excitement over all our things arriving. It probably helps that Nick flew out to New Zealand yesterday and wont be back until next Friday. He's very anxious about where we are going to put everything, and while the number of boxes concerns me (40 odd) I know what I packed and am pretty sure it should be OK. For instance I know that my one box of Christmas decorations took four boxes to pack in tissue etc (they are going into storage) I also know as the Sallies, Vinnies and my children's flat can attest that there was a serious cull of our kitchen and linen cupboards as well as the bookcases.

Today I've been sorting through the cupboards moving excess and extras to a couple of high inaccessible shelves and a cupboard that is so difficult to open, Nick didn't even realise it existed! When the movers packed I'd reduced our kitchen to one of the double cupboards under the wooden bench plus a shelf of storage containers in the pantry. I've easily cleared that much space in the kitchen already. The plan is to have it all sorted and put away before he gets back Friday, with the exception of his projector and home theatre system. And in the meantime I'm anticipating the pleasure of not having to make do.

We have already developed a bit of routine on Saturday mornings - housework and changing beds, laundry and then off to the market. This morning as I was about to strip the bed, I realised I could wait until Monday when my high count cotton sheets arrived, I couldn't find a clean tea towel (we only have three and Jon had used two to wipe up a spill) and remembered that the I had packed some (including the cool NZ themed ones from the Blendy boxes). I was making breakfast thinking only two more days and I'll have my coffee machine and grinder - need I say more?

Then as I walked through the market I went to stop at a couple of places to look for a vintage tablecloth and a couple of pieces of cheap jewelry, and remembered "my stuff will be here Monday!" All my jewelry, all my shoes, all my nail polish (well except for the ones my daughters sneaked off with) my full size skin care products, the rest of my work clothes, the flower vases, the decorative things made or gifted by good friends. The fabric of a living space that will move our black and white apartment from a hotel to home.

As for Jon - he keeps asking when his takahe cushion will arrive, and his DS, and his books, and the rest of his DVD's and games. He's also looking forward to having his bike. He wanted to have a friend stay the night and I could suggest next weekend when he will have all his things including sleeping bags etc.

And last but not least - there's the expectation of opening boxes and finding things I'd missed without even being fully aware of it and knowing we are one step closer to "settling in".

And then I turned out the lights

So I'm just coming to the end of a really quick trip to NZ - it was a trip that wasn't absolutely essential, but I'm very glad I made. The back story was that our house was finally rented and there was a list of minor tasks that would be more easily completed on the ground than by remote.

So with the a bit of juggling to make sure I had a full business day in NZ that was unlikely to be used for job interviews (Tuesday and Wednesday are holidays for the Queensland public service - Tuesday is the equivalent of show/anniversary day) and that I was back for the public holidays cos Nick wanted to do some trips - I booked some cheap flights on Tuesday and was here Saturday at midnight.

As a couple of friends I visited with commented - most of the tasks were about closure. It was about seeing the doors were painted, the carpet cleaned, the tiling and plastering finished - but it was also about catching up with good friends who'd been away when I left, taking my mother in law out for the afternoon tea I had to bail on my last day in NZ, and closing off some final bits and pieces that had been preying on my mind.

Probably the funniest detail was the little bit of plastic that slots into the freezer door and connects it to the cupboard door (it's built in). I had broken it away from the screws on the Monday I left Wellington and had been unable to track down a replacement (and not for lack of trying in Christchurch) It was still lying on the floor of the car and when I reached over to pick it up to put in my bag, it suddenly occurred to me that all I needed to do was turn it around and drill new holes on the other end. I actually didn't do the drilling - that was Ana's new BF (a builder) who was putting the door handles back onto the door they'd painted for me - it took all of five minutes to resolve an issue I'd been fretting about for almost seven weeks!

I was pleased when I walked into the house yesterday afternoon that it still "felt" (and smelled) OK. This morning it was freezing and the first thing I did was turn on the heaters for fifteen minutes. It was lovely to walk in from checking something outside to a heater warmed room - the weird things you miss in the land of perpetual summer. This evening it was getting dark and I decided to do the thing Nick hates and turned on EVERY light in the house. Then as I did a final cupboard check, dust and vacuum I turned off each light, and so our house gradually went dark. I'm not convinced we are quite finished with this house yet but even so, as I turned off each light I had a moment to remember the memories for each room and say goodbye. The kitchen took three goes - and one of the very last things I did was polish the bench.

And when the last light was turned out and I shut the outside door - there was a sudden squall of heavy rain which kind of matched my mood.

Over pizzas at their place the girls commented that it must have been sad given how perfect it all was - the new paint, the new curtains, the door etc, and we didn't get to enjoy it. As you can imagine that hadn't even crossed my mind - the sadness was about leaving a space where people had lived and closing the door on over seven years of memories being made.

I had to stop by again on the way to the supermarket with Toby, as I had needed a torch for the final gas reading. And already a couple of hours later - the closure of a task completed had set in and I was focusing on my trip back tomorrow to a place I already can begin to think of as home.

The shopping antidote for homesickness

I need to start exploring further afield but one of my favorite places is Indooropilly Shopping Centre. To imagine Indooropilly you need to think Westfield Queensgate or Riccarton on steriods. Jon refuses to admit it but it's about three times the size! I think one of the reasons he disagrees, is the same reason I like it - we might be in Brisbane but there is so much that is familiar here. Pumpkin Patch, Portmans, Esprit, Just Jeans, Dymocks, Kikki K. - the list goes on. Yes there are three massive floors of Myers instead of Farmers, and there is Target and KMart rather than the Warehouse - but fundamentally it feels so similar that the "I'm totally new and lost" feeling fades away to "hey I know how this place works" The first time I walked in and saw the recognisable line up something unwound in me and I began to relax. The task of acclimatising to a new city and a new country suddenly seemed manageable.

Central city shopping areas tend to have their own character, and while I enjoy shopping there they are not always that effective for the typical parental/home management tasks. Today I needed a whole selection of useful things e.g. a couple of wicker baskets, a circuit board, some document boxes - a shopping centre with a substantial car park just is so much easier for that stuff.

Nick finds it extraordinary that he can walk into one of his favorite menswear shops and it is "exactly like it is at home"- I find it a relief! I also realised today that I could figure out the shops new to me by relating their pricing to the shops I know e.g. which is high end women's clothing and which is on the lower end of the scale. So while one could be concerned about the homogenisation of trans-tasman shopping and the economic impact the major Australian brands have on New Zealand ones (interestingly enough, here they are getting really worried about some of the big American brands encroaching) as an antidote for Kiwi homesickness ...it has unexpected dividends.

How about an N plate?

Standing at the Post Office recently I noticed the three different learner plates you use in Queensland to go the different licensing stages. It has regularly occurred to me while driving in a new car, a new city, or even with a very new driver that it would be useful if there was a plate that indicated to the world at large that this person might not be totally smooth and sure.

The other day as I navigated my way through central Brisbane, I decided maybe N for new would be an option. It wasn't that I was driving badly but that I occasionally slowed down while I looked for a street sign, or got caught out by lane markings. I know I will manage that particular trip fine next time - because now I know that rather than a left exit to go over the road to get to the new bridge, its a right exit. This means I wont have to get across three lanes of traffic to get where I'm supposed to be. I also know that the new bridge exits before the older bridge (in my head they were the other way around). Likewise I now know when driving to the really big shopping centre on the other side of the river that there are two lanes that go straight ahead and two lanes that veer right - so next time I'll be in the left lane that veers right rather than the right lane that goes straight ahead.

Several people suggested that we get a GPS to help us find our way around. Nick has duly done this and relies on it. After it tried taking me a VERY long way round to get Jon's school uniform on Friday I have taken to using Google Maps on my iphone to give me a visual start and then let the GPS re-calculate the route once I am well started. I also think it tends to stop you paying attention to the landmarks etc as you are listening to it rather than thinking about where you are. The GPS has some other significant failings as well - it navigated us into a tunnel and lost the signal so couldn't tell us to take the first tunnel exit (it was several km long) and worst of all - why cant someone invent one that responds to voice. It would make so much more sense if you could simply say an address and it calculated the route. Or you could say "roadworks" and it would find an alternate route.

In the meantime - I grabbed a copy of the Queensland road code so we could double check all the things we thought we knew and make sense of some strange signs. That way when we apply for a Queensland drivers license in the next couple of weeks it will feel honest :)

Loose Change

It's not the first time it has crossed my mind that familiarity with a country's coinage (or lack of it) is a dead give away about "at home" you are. As soon as you look attentively at the change in your hand/purse the person you are paying knows - this person isn't from around here.

There is a subtle difference between "the have I got enough in change" check and the "how much are all these coins worth" look. The whole of New Zealand went through it when the coins were changed. It's more than what they look like - it's the weight of them in your hand or pocket and the shape and feel.

Apart from the fact the Australian coins are heavy after several years of light coins, that the $2 is smaller than the $1, and they still have a five cent coin - I think I'll know I'm properly integrating when I can put my hand in my jeans pocket and have a good estimate of the value of what I'm going to pull out before I even see it. It's already surprisingly close.

Things I miss about my kitchen

I've just decided that I'm going to try and get into posting the small random moments about our big move rather than try and write major significant posts. A bit like my friends who are doing a photo a day.

Anyway what's kind of on top for me today are all the things that I miss about my kitchen. For an apartment the kitchen is awesome but despite that:

1. No waste disposal - I remember missing that in the apartment in Wellington as well but I'd have thought being so new this apartment would have a waste disposal in the second sink
2. Which leads to - no compost heap - most of our food scraps went on the compost heap anyway (before anyone gets into me about the environmental friendliness of waste disposers) Jon and I are muttering about maybe a worm farm.
3. The light switch - there are two but they are on the outside of dividing walls - i.e. you have to go out of the kitchen to turn them on. Which is irritating around five at night when it suddenly gets dark and you are used to just being able to put your hand out to turn on the switch. Especially as about exactly where you'd expect the switch to be, there is a phone socket.
4. The rangehood/ extractor pulls out - at about eye level - over the stove top. It must be designed for a five foot zero cook!
5. I miss my big stock pot, frying pan and decent knives which are fortunately all coming by sea freight in about four weeks
6. The cutlery drawer is in the wrong place although I think that is just habit - I have to go behind left when I am getting the teaspoon for my coffee instead of behind right. But after seven years of doing it one way several times a day..
7. And of course the very worst - I'm hanging out for my coffee machine and grinder! (Also currently at sea or languishing at Brisbane customs)

On the plus side - the dishwasher is a dishdrawer just like at home, which I think I would have missed. The oven and gas cooktop are awesome (seeing I had to leave my new oven behind) and it takes very little cleaning. Plus in the absolute absence of cookbooks I discovered Epicurious on my iphone which is brilliant having provided us with two dinner recipes and a yummy brownie recipe already. And the wonder kitchen shop three doors down has not only provided me with my favorite type of vegetable peeler but also stocks the Babushka measuring cups I was lusting over at Wanda Harland's before I left. So I'm sure I'll survive the minor irritations for now.

The fabric of a country

Over the last couple of days - since Anzac Day really, I've been thinking about what I'll miss about New Zealand when we move to Brisbane. In many respects while we were visiting a couple of weeks back I was struck by the similarities rather than the differences. Yes there were all those Australian accents, and my wallet kept getting weighed down by all that heavy coinage - but it all seemed pretty manageable. I've moved regions in New Zealand before and I was beginning to think it wasn't going to be much more of an adaptation than that.

Then on Anzac Day during the Dawn Parade when the Army speaker started his address in Te Reo Maori, I began to think of the day to day inclusions that I take for granted. Hearing and using Te Reo (however infrequently and badly) is one of them, and that God Defend New Zealand is the New Zealand national anthem. That I could as easily have been at a war memorial on Sunday which carried the name of one of my great, great uncles.

I know that the importance I place on cultural inclusion and the awareness of cultural equity is not universal in this country, but as I watched the boys leaving the college Jon would have gone to while I stopped at the crossing' I was struck by their incredible diversity of skin colours and ethnicity as they (at least in that moment) were laughing and joking together at the end of the day. And it troubles me that not one of the schools we could enrol him in, in Brisbane, had an indigineous role percentage of more than 4%.

And what worries me more - and why I am writing about it to remind me - is that after a few months I wont even notice the absence.