It has now been about a month for me and longer for Jodie since we renounced our
'persons of leisure' status. It has been a remarkably easy transition, but I do hope that we do not have to wait too long before we go on another adventure.
In some ways my move into my new job has been too easy; much of the language used, equipment discussed and the problems to be tackled are very very similar to that of the MOD. This should be a good thing……….However……………..Imagine if you have had a disturbing 'experience' (I am being polite as this is a public forum) at the hand of a goatee bearded, ginger relative in your formative years, it is likely you would be willing and able to go into denial and 'forget' all about it. That is fine, until you're faced with another goatee bearded man of similar build elsewhere in life. The man may not be bad, and is unlikely to give you a 'disturbing experience' but it is likely you will feel a little hate towards him as the old hurt flooded back. As two years in the MOD is about as close to a 'disturbing experience' as you can get, I am sure you can see what I am getting at.
Besides the psychological issues, I am settling into the new role and the guys and girls I work with are a good bunch. Slowly working out how PC I must be. They are just not rude enough. I have had yet another flare-up of a thing that I get on my chin every year or so and it is gross. After a couple of days it looks like someone has stuck a hairy lemon fruit pastille to my face on a very hot day, and various bits of gunk weeps out. Over the past few years I know that the moment it happens I can expect ruthless piss taking and mental bullying from all I work with. It may not be right, but I am used to it and comfortable with it. This time, not a soul has mentioned it. As I sit it meetings, talking away, occasionally trying to dab off the gunk and blood flowing down my chin, not one single eyelid is battered, there is not a snigger. I haven't even noticed eyes briefly darting down to try to work out what the hell it is. To me, this is so much harder than good old fashioned public humiliation. Perhaps I will get used to it. Perhaps I will enjoy not crying myself to sleep after a heavy day in the office. Perhaps.
Before my growth grew and before I started work J and I had a great long weekend on the Sunshine Coast at JJ and Jens wedding. What was really nice for us was that as we knew both JJ from UK and Oz and a number of Jens Oz friends, we seemed to know heaps of people and had a great time. Jen looked gorgeous and JJ stayed sober for the required amount of time. Which is good. And surprising. If only JJ's very good friend and master of ceremonies had managed to keep himself together so well. If nerves had not affected him early on he may not have confused the name of the bride with that of her sister as he announced her arrival into the room. If this minor hiccup had not led him straight to the Tequila bottle he may not have dropped the grooms Mum on her head whilst dancing energetically with her, told Jodie that he could handle her weight, whilst dipping her low, as he used to be a power-lifter and perhaps would not have told me about 10 times what a great cleavage my wife had whilst trying to get a photo of it. Bless.
Slightly more civilised was our 5thth anniversary weekend at a place called Killcare about 1.5 hrs north of Sydney. It fell on an Australian Queens Birthday long weekend. The locals may not want her as a head of state, but they are more than happy to have a day off to celebrate her birthday. Very convenient. Perhaps if Australia becomes a Republic they will have Kylie's birthday off.
We stayed in a small hotel which is basically a very, very nice restaurant with a few rooms in little houses in the grounds. Log fires, views over the fields and a BBQ on the veranda to cook breakfast (delivered to the fridge the day before). We discovered that Kookaburras love sausages, and when it comes to sausages, lose all fear of humans. At one point I felt like I was in a scene from 'the birds' as three of the large 'Kingfishers on steroids' came ever closer until one took some sausage from my hand. It's only sausages they like though; bacon, apples and smoked salmon are for lesser birds.