Hi everyone,
I guess it is about time that I put together an email to everyone to say, Yes, we have arrived in England, we are alive and living and all of that. I do have an excuse for not doing so earlier, and that's that I have only just got a PC at work. Fortunately it is a portable, so I can bring it home to write emails which are far too long. So for those who are time challenged, now might be a good time to stop reading, well actually after the first sentence would have been the spot to stop, as since then you have gained no new information.
I've been here since the 7th, and Felicity arrived on the 16th after spending a week in Melbourne with her family. The flights over were pretty uneventful for both of us, and it was great to get on the plane after all of the busy-ness of packing up our place, saying good-byes, finish up work, etc etc etc. The only real excitement was to see just how much we could be overweight without being charged (I ended up with over 50kg, and Felicity had about 55kg - but don't try this at home!)
So, we arrived, they let us in, and since then we have been living at the Basingstoke Country Hotel. Despite its name, it is actually in Nately Scures (on Scures Hill, near Hook as the address says), not to be confused with Up Nately. To get to work I need to drive through Hatch Warren and then into Basingstoke proper. Having said that, it is all of a couple of miles to work from here. The hotel has a tiny room, which is stacked high with the 11 bags and suitcases we brought with us - but it does have a great gym and pool (at least so Felicity tells me). Our time here in the hotel is rapidly coming to a close, and we hope to be picking up the keys to our new home on Monday or Tuesday.
House hunting has been a lot of fun. You get to drive all over
the place, along little lanes, trying to work out how to pronounce names
like Odiham*, driving along little country lanes
with pheasants running around (which we have discovered if you run over
you are not allowed to pick up, however you are allowed to pick up pheasants
which other people have run over, and then it is best to hang them for
a week to drain before plucking) and so on. Driving here is an interesting
experience. At least we are on the right side of the road, but it
is at times a little hard to determine what is the right side when the
road is too narrow for two cars to pass. The situation is helped
even more by the fact that these roads tend to be little country lanes,
which run through the fields in exquisitely picturesque countryside cunningly
obscured by the hedgerows along both sides of the roads. These hedgerows
not only provide the service of preventing the unwary driver from
becoming overwhelmed by beauty, but also make it impossible to get
any warning of the car coming towards you, which you must now stop in front
of, and begin a somewhat confused, mostly telepathic, exchange with the
driver of the other car. This is a sort of guess who's going to give
in and go back and let the other past, along with in my case, a wondering
about what is the etiquette, and who's supposed to do what, and how do
we communicate with each other who's going to do what and is there really
enough room to get past in which case let's do that instead of looking
like a bit of a dill and going back when it's not necessary. It's
a lot of fun. In fact, driving is quite a lot of fun here.
You can sit on the motorways doing 80-90 miles per hour, to have cars fly
past you like you were standing still
(standing still is also not an uncommon occurrence on the motorways),
roundabouts are a challenge. The rules appear to be somewhat the
same as
what they are in Australia, although I haven't ever come across traffic
lights in the middle of an Australian roundabout, but the practice of driving
around them is very very different, and whatever the rules are, I think
they cease to exist about 10 metres away from the entrance to the roundabout.
Driving from Basingstoke to Farnham, which is about 15 miles through the
countryside with not much around, one will pass a sign saying Parking 1/4
mile. A quarter of a mile later there is indeed a parking area, but
why is to me a mystery, although there is also a sign saying Hot and Cold
Food. I think the parking area is a parking area for a caravan, which
distributes the aforementioned hot and cold food, but which came first?
Was it a parking area, and someone decided they could make a quid or two
by
selling refreshments to the travellers exhausted by the long 20 minute
drive? (I am watching the strangest show on earth on tele at the moment.
There are 3 kids on high chairs, who about 4, who are being talked to by
a strange man. He just asked one of the kids what his mum and dad
do, and he said, "Sometimes they smack me." The kid is now just about
falling off the chair because he is scratching his bottom so hard.
I think it was called Kids say the funniest things, and it's just finished,
which is probably a good thing for everyone.) Anyway, back to the long
drive between Basingstoke and Farnham and the parking lot with the caravan.
Or was there a man who thought he could make a bit of money by setting
up a caravan to feed the hungry travellers travelling between Basingstoke
and Farnham, and this became so popular that they had to set up a parking
lot around it? And does anyone care? Going a bit further down the
road one gets to Farnham. This is announced by a sign saying "Welcome
to Farnham", which is immediately followed by a sign, illustrating the
great magnanimity of the British, which says "Please drive
carefully through Upper Hale." Although the road is wide enough
for two cars to pass, this abundance of space was obviously too much for
the local inhabitants, who have taken steps to rectify things by parking
along the side of the road to reduce it to one lane, and make everyone
much more comfortable with things. Today we drove back from Farnham
to Basingstoke the back way, through little villages, and on tiny little
back roads which are even tinier than most of the tiny little roads.
So, we are on this tiny little road, hardly wide enough for our car, let
alone any other car coming in the opposite direction, when we came across
a sign which looked like this
| |
/ \
| |
Which indicates that the road narrows. And it did. Anyway, enough
about driving. No doubt we will have many more adventures of
a transportational kind.
So, back to house hunting. It's great looking through little houses in wonderful old villages. It is not so good looking through little ugly new houses. It is also not good converting the rent to Australian dollars, so one doesn't. It's like when you put $75-80 in the petrol tank. Much better to leave it at £30. Looks a lot better.
Anyway, the results of our house hunting has resulted in us putting in an application for a terraced cottage in Upton Grey, a little village with houses with thatched roofs, a duck pond, and an unusual Norman church. The duck pond has a little park bench next to it, where one can rest one's weary feet and watch the ducks. There is a sign saying "Slow, Ducks Crossing," but they seem to spend more of their time floating than crossing.
The cottage is on a farm, just outside the town. It is in what used to be the barn, and overlooks some old farm buildings on one side, and some fields with Wallace and Grommit type sheep on the other side. Unusually, it has two bathrooms, one with a shower, and one with a bath. The best part is that the bath has a view, as the window is right next to it. The bedrooms have sloping ceilings, and there are huge big beams running both vertically and horizontally through the house. But the fittings are very modern, and has an open fire, and we are really looking forward to moving in.
We are loving it here - the weather has been very kind, although as daylight saving has just ended it starts to get dark about 4pm.
I'll shut up before I bore you all anymore.
Jonathan
© Jonathan Main 1999