The family all arrived safely from Europe, tired but happy to be here. They were tired enough that it was considered prudent to let them have a little bit of sleep before I dragged them here there and everywhere for their first day.
So about 10am everyone clambered into bed and by about 10:00:23, four of the five were happily off in the land of sleepy bo-bos. Two hours later it was time to get everyone up again so that they didn’t have so much sleep that they couldn’t sleep later on when the sun disappeared.
Sam woke up nicely, Michael woke up but everytime I turned around he’d laid back down again and was ‘resting his eyes’. Caroline woke up, but didn’t really seem to show any intent of actually moving and of course then there was Emily.
Emily didn’t want to wake up for love nor money. I poked, I tickled, I gently shook, I opened the curtains to allow the sun to stream in. Nothing was working. I stole the covers and decided that maybe dragging her out of bed would be the bit that would finally do the trick. I didn’t want to drop her on the floor though and so as she came off the bed, I lifted her by the ankles.
And she slept on.
I had the mite upside down. Hanging in the air. And she didn’t even wake up.
That’s some serious sleeping. I had to put her down of course. After all, her face did start to go a little red. In the end I carried her out to the car and she woke up there eventually.
Sep 23, 2010
Sep 15, 2010
Welcome Home
I’d been back in Oz for about 36 hours. I’d had a lovely dinner with Mum, Dad and my brother and sister and families.
I drove home carefully, still conscious of the fact that I was now on the other side of the road to that which I’d been driving on for the last 3 years. In the main part, it’s not a problem. There was just the one little old lady who gave me a strange look in the carpark as I drove toward her on the wrong side.
So I was just a little surprised that as I pulled off the street upon which the apartment is on and into the carpark, I was followed by the delightful flash of red and blue police lights. I didn’t recall that I had done anything incorrectly on the way home, so waited to find out from the source.
The guy was nice enough and informed me that they had a camera in their car that read number plates and then interfaced with a database that had alerted them to the fact that the vehicle was marked as potentially being driven by someone with an expired license.
Holy crap! Not because my license had expired, because it had … I have a Canadian license that I have to get reverted, but because of the technology. I thought it was damn impressive.
I let the cop know that I did in fact have an expired Australian License and showed him the Canadian one instead. He wished me well and we parted ways. It was an interesting way to learn about expanded Police capabilities.
I drove home carefully, still conscious of the fact that I was now on the other side of the road to that which I’d been driving on for the last 3 years. In the main part, it’s not a problem. There was just the one little old lady who gave me a strange look in the carpark as I drove toward her on the wrong side.
So I was just a little surprised that as I pulled off the street upon which the apartment is on and into the carpark, I was followed by the delightful flash of red and blue police lights. I didn’t recall that I had done anything incorrectly on the way home, so waited to find out from the source.
The guy was nice enough and informed me that they had a camera in their car that read number plates and then interfaced with a database that had alerted them to the fact that the vehicle was marked as potentially being driven by someone with an expired license.
Holy crap! Not because my license had expired, because it had … I have a Canadian license that I have to get reverted, but because of the technology. I thought it was damn impressive.
I let the cop know that I did in fact have an expired Australian License and showed him the Canadian one instead. He wished me well and we parted ways. It was an interesting way to learn about expanded Police capabilities.
Europe – Part 2
As seems to happen more and more these days, I found some time to write, but haven't managed to get around to posting. I've finally taken a moment to do so, so here's the latest:
--------------------------------
September 1st.
I am currently on a train in Outback New South Wales. It’s a considerably rougher journey than the one recently taken through the rural areas of France and significantly slower to boot. It does of course give me a little time to write as its only my second day on the job and you can only achieve so much work on a noisy train without the resources of offices etc. I most definitely don’t have access to the internet.
I think that the last time that I managed to post something I’d managed to track our holiday through to Venice and possibly even back to Switzerland. I’ll have to check before I post this.
After saying farewell to Switzerland, we hopped a train to Marseille. We didn’t know much about Marseille, the fact that we were going at all was something of a stab in the dark. Caroline had mentioned at some stage that we should perhaps look at going somewhere else in the time that we had other than just Paris and Venice and suggested some on the Mediterranean in France. I had a bit of a look and although it apparently had nice beaches, it sounded like it would be overflowing and even the pictures of the beaches seemed crowded beyond belief.
With a little bit of help from the internet, I took a look at some other cities in the region and decided that Marseille with its fortifications and old Port looked considerably more interesting. And so off we went.
The train ride was fun, especially the part where we had to lug our copious amounts of luggage onto the train and then try and find somewhere to store it all whilst we rattled along (rattled isn’t really the right word to describe the pleasant journey, but it is more ‘trainy’ – the trip I am on right now … that’s a rattly ride).
We managed to arrive and get off the train and then we had to manage to get to the hotel. After a little stress and some questions, we made it out of the train station and started to make our way up the road toward where the hotel was supposed to be. Turns out it was about a 100m away and just across the road! Talk about a bonus. We quickly settled in the hotel and then decided to go for a walk and see if we could find somewhere to have some nice French food.
We strolled down to the port, admiring the old French buildings and the port, soaking in the Mediterranean sunshine until it was time to seek some dinner. We found somewhere that looked good, with a waiter who was friendly and willing to speak some English and endeavour to meet our needs. The food was lovely, though Sam wasn’t overly impressed with the calamari that he’d ordered. It came with a risotto, which for some reason turned out to be grey in colour. If you’re going to try and get a kid to do something, serving up grey rice that looks suspiciously like it could have been some sort of brain (my description, not Sam’s) isn’t really the best way to go about it. All in all though we made do and walked away happy … which is more than we could say for our next dinner in Marseille, but I’ll get to that.
On our second day we decided to take a bus trip around town to see the place and although we saw it, there wasn’t really time to get off anywhere along the way, so it was really just a tease of what the city had to offer. Later in the afternoon we took a boat trip out from the old port and visited the fortress where the Count of Monte Cristo was set and then on to one of the other small islands where we found a beach so that the kids could have a swim. It was a lovely day and as the sun started to set we made our way back to the mainland and found ourselves a restaurant.
The waitress who seated us was lovely, but sadly that seemed to be the last contact we’d have with her. A Belgian girl and her Grand Father ended up at the table next to us and were kind enough to translate the menu for us. The whole meal seemed to be a battle for the waiter’s attention and we took to starting a pool on how long it would be before each part of the meal to arrive to try and keep the kids entertained. All in all, our three course meal took two and a half hours, which considering we had the kids with us and that we finished at 10:30pm was just ridiculous. If it hadn’t been for the lovely Belgians next to us who were able to get the waiter’s attention and communicate with them a couple of times, we may have still been sitting there today waiting for the final component of our meals.
We bid farewell to Marseille, sadly with that meal as something of a lasting impression and boarded the train to Paris. Emily was very excited to be going to Paris at last, letting me know that her friends at school had been especially jealous that she was getting to go there to see the Eiffel Tower.
There was also the element that she’d not bought souveneirs at some of our recent stops so that she could save up her funds and buy one in Paris.
The train ride was uneventful once the luggage was again stowed and we arrived in Paris with only the problem of again making our way to our hotel. This time it certainly wasn’t a short stop from the train station. We opted to put as many bags as we could in a taxi and for Emily and I to accompany them and for Caroline and the boys to catch a bus and walk the last bit to the hotel.
Emily was suitably happy at the moment when we were able to glance down one of the streets and see the famed tower and other than arriving to find out that they didn’t seem to have record of our booking, we were all soon safely ensconced in our hotel with the top of the Eiffel Tower visible through the roof-top window.
It had been a wet and drizzly morning when we’d travelled to Paris but we
--------------------------------
September 1st.
I am currently on a train in Outback New South Wales. It’s a considerably rougher journey than the one recently taken through the rural areas of France and significantly slower to boot. It does of course give me a little time to write as its only my second day on the job and you can only achieve so much work on a noisy train without the resources of offices etc. I most definitely don’t have access to the internet.
I think that the last time that I managed to post something I’d managed to track our holiday through to Venice and possibly even back to Switzerland. I’ll have to check before I post this.
After saying farewell to Switzerland, we hopped a train to Marseille. We didn’t know much about Marseille, the fact that we were going at all was something of a stab in the dark. Caroline had mentioned at some stage that we should perhaps look at going somewhere else in the time that we had other than just Paris and Venice and suggested some on the Mediterranean in France. I had a bit of a look and although it apparently had nice beaches, it sounded like it would be overflowing and even the pictures of the beaches seemed crowded beyond belief.
With a little bit of help from the internet, I took a look at some other cities in the region and decided that Marseille with its fortifications and old Port looked considerably more interesting. And so off we went.
The train ride was fun, especially the part where we had to lug our copious amounts of luggage onto the train and then try and find somewhere to store it all whilst we rattled along (rattled isn’t really the right word to describe the pleasant journey, but it is more ‘trainy’ – the trip I am on right now … that’s a rattly ride).
We managed to arrive and get off the train and then we had to manage to get to the hotel. After a little stress and some questions, we made it out of the train station and started to make our way up the road toward where the hotel was supposed to be. Turns out it was about a 100m away and just across the road! Talk about a bonus. We quickly settled in the hotel and then decided to go for a walk and see if we could find somewhere to have some nice French food.
We strolled down to the port, admiring the old French buildings and the port, soaking in the Mediterranean sunshine until it was time to seek some dinner. We found somewhere that looked good, with a waiter who was friendly and willing to speak some English and endeavour to meet our needs. The food was lovely, though Sam wasn’t overly impressed with the calamari that he’d ordered. It came with a risotto, which for some reason turned out to be grey in colour. If you’re going to try and get a kid to do something, serving up grey rice that looks suspiciously like it could have been some sort of brain (my description, not Sam’s) isn’t really the best way to go about it. All in all though we made do and walked away happy … which is more than we could say for our next dinner in Marseille, but I’ll get to that.
On our second day we decided to take a bus trip around town to see the place and although we saw it, there wasn’t really time to get off anywhere along the way, so it was really just a tease of what the city had to offer. Later in the afternoon we took a boat trip out from the old port and visited the fortress where the Count of Monte Cristo was set and then on to one of the other small islands where we found a beach so that the kids could have a swim. It was a lovely day and as the sun started to set we made our way back to the mainland and found ourselves a restaurant.
The waitress who seated us was lovely, but sadly that seemed to be the last contact we’d have with her. A Belgian girl and her Grand Father ended up at the table next to us and were kind enough to translate the menu for us. The whole meal seemed to be a battle for the waiter’s attention and we took to starting a pool on how long it would be before each part of the meal to arrive to try and keep the kids entertained. All in all, our three course meal took two and a half hours, which considering we had the kids with us and that we finished at 10:30pm was just ridiculous. If it hadn’t been for the lovely Belgians next to us who were able to get the waiter’s attention and communicate with them a couple of times, we may have still been sitting there today waiting for the final component of our meals.
We bid farewell to Marseille, sadly with that meal as something of a lasting impression and boarded the train to Paris. Emily was very excited to be going to Paris at last, letting me know that her friends at school had been especially jealous that she was getting to go there to see the Eiffel Tower.
There was also the element that she’d not bought souveneirs at some of our recent stops so that she could save up her funds and buy one in Paris.
The train ride was uneventful once the luggage was again stowed and we arrived in Paris with only the problem of again making our way to our hotel. This time it certainly wasn’t a short stop from the train station. We opted to put as many bags as we could in a taxi and for Emily and I to accompany them and for Caroline and the boys to catch a bus and walk the last bit to the hotel.
Emily was suitably happy at the moment when we were able to glance down one of the streets and see the famed tower and other than arriving to find out that they didn’t seem to have record of our booking, we were all soon safely ensconced in our hotel with the top of the Eiffel Tower visible through the roof-top window.
It had been a wet and drizzly morning when we’d travelled to Paris but we
Aug 26, 2010
Europe - Part 1
I guess I finally realised that I was leaving Canada for good when I boarded the plane to Munich in Toronto. I mean, leaving Fort Mac was one thing, but it wasn’t really until I was on that plane to Munich and settled that I really stopped to think about the fact that it was the last time that I be flying out of Canadia, barring some return ski trip in the future (though one should never say never!).
I didn’t really spend that much time thinking about it though because the bloke next to me managed to distract me. Not through stimulating conversation, because I established very quickly when I asked where he was from that he was Polish, but didn’t speak English. I also very quickly established that there were going to be boundary issues on the arm-rest given he was bigger than me and exceeding his spatial allotment. That and the fact that he smelt. Not only did he smell of having spent some pre-flight time in the bar, but also from having spent more than the allotted time either in the same clothes, or since last bathing.
If he sat still it wasn’t too bad, but it seemed that every time he moved the disturbance in the air became a disturbance of my olfactory senses. And of course, because his english was so poor, he couldn’t operate the in flight entertainment system, so he’d look at what I had on my screen and then indicate that he’d like to watch the same thing. I thought I’d left operating two systems behind the last time that I flew with Emily.
He did sleep that helped a little, but in the morning, he seemed curious to see what was outside of the plane all the time and would reach across me to lift the blind. This had a lovely dual effect. Firstly I was blinded by the bright daylight from outside due to having been watching movies in the near dark for the prior 6 hours or so and secondly, my olfactory senses were slammed with a sledge hammer as the less than fresh air about him was distributed across the plane.
I landed safely in Munich and apparently still have some sense of smell remaining.
During the transfer process in Munich I had to go back through the whole x-ray process with my hand luggage. Given that I was transporting two laptops, this was a painful process that I was glad to have only been through at the first flight in Fort McMurray. Munich managed to take things to a whole new level for me.
“Is that a doll in your luggage?” I was asked. Well, now that it’s been mentioned, yes, I was traveling with a doll in my hand luggage. It was Emily’s American Girl, Julie, that had been inadvertently left behind when they’d left the two weeks previously. Turns out that Julie had to go through the x-ray process all on her own.
I very briefly considered protesting that to put the poor doll through that might be considered an invasion of her privacy. However, upon consideration of the sorts of return invasions of MY privacy (not to mention my anatomy) that such protests might invoke, I decided to let the doll suffer through the affair. She appeared unconcerned at the prospect anyway and certainly made no complaint afterward.
The doll wasn’t the end of it though, they also insisted that I pull the cameras that were in my luggage out and have then go through the scanner again not to mention that I then had to turn the camera on and show them a picture as well! That’s one of those points in time when you start to wonder what the last photo you took was. In my case, it was a picture of Emily and Breagh, nothing to worry about at all.
For the final flight to Zurich, I actually managed to score an exit row seat which was nice, though somewhat wasted fortune considering it was such a minor hop of a flight. One shouldn’t complain though.
Upon arrival I was more than happy to pile into the van with an excited family and head off to Brennan where we were kindly being accommodated with Rita and Armin.
We spent a little time in Switzerland not doing a lot before our first excursion to Venice.
There were mixed reactions to the announcement that we were going to go to Venice, ranging from jealousy and people telling us that we’d love it to those that asked, “Why would you want to go there, its a crowded stinky place.”
Other than that, I had no real pre-conceptions about the place other than to expect lots of canals, over-priced gondolas and given that it was Summer, some delightful aromas that my Polish companion may have unwittingly prepared my nose for.
We drove the van across Italy, enjoying the changing scenery, counting the tunnels (something like 37 between Brunnen and Venice). Upon arrival, we parked the car, using one of the multi-storey carparks, which was an interesting exercise given we were in a large, 10 seater (that’s 4 rows of seats) Volkswagen van and we were assigned a park on the very top (8th) level of the car park. Things were a little nerve-wracking navigating the steep, circular spiraled ramps in the manual van. There was very little room for error and I was rather relieved to find that I managed to get to the top without any scratches or dents. There was plenty of evidence that those who had gone before had not all been able to say the same thing!
We had reduced our luggage for this trip which was a lovely little idea of Caroline’s that probably saved all sorts of hell as we made our way to the water ‘bus’ that was to take us around to where we were staying. The first sights of Venice were indeed inspirational as we cruised along the Grand Canal around to the San Marco stop where we would disembark.
With Venice being such and old and storied city, it seems almost pointless for me to try and capture what it is in a few words, so I won’t try. Suffice to say that I adored the architecture and uniqueness of the city. We dined out on PIzza and pasta and traipsed our way through the alleys and streets. With only two nights, we barely scratched the surface of the city, but then with 4 kids in tow, exploring museums and operas and the like was never really going to be an option anyway.
It was of course easy with the kids along to tell which of the shops were displaying the outrageously priced real Murano glass simply from the look on the face of the vendor when one entered the store. Those with the real glass on display were also those that stood with looks of impending doom upon their face and didn’t draw breath from the moment we entered until the moment we left their store. One of them must have been really over the top because as the kids went to go inside, he quite simply shooed them back out the door and denied them entry!
It was something of a relief when we finally left the last store to realise that we’d navigated so many shops with so much glass and managed to avoid destroying anything at all!
We stayed just in behind the Piazza San Marco, which given the amount of walking that the stay entailed and the fact that we dragged four kids along with us for the entire time, was a fabulous place to stay.
As with all visits, we had to leave and managed to do so intact, with everything that we’d taken there in the first place, which is always a nice way to do it (and never guaranteed). And so we drove back through the Italian countryside, admiring the churches and castles that adorned the higher elevations and cliffs and the terra cotta tiled houses in the villages that we passed. Around lunch time we decided that it would be nice to visit one of these small places and find some lunch at a nice bakery.
Such a simple plan. it only took an hour or so for us to get off the highway, drive into a village and wonder if it had been abandoned as we drove around looking for somewhere that might actually be open. Michael was most indignant when we finally found a supermarket to discover that they closed from 1 until 3:30. Or in other terms ... whilst we were there hungry.
Eventually after some frayed nerves and terse words, we did manage to find somewhere to eat and then returned to the highway, guided by Homer (Simpson, not the classic philosopher and my choice for the GPS voice) and on our way again back to Switzerland, with me declaring that we would never again leave the highway to search for a meal.
As famous last words go, I ate my own on that one. We drove along the highway past what we were later to discover was Como and in a fit of madness (or penance) I suggested that we drive in and find somewhere to eat. It was about the right time of day and the town appeared to be a village perched on a cliff over-looking a lake. I thought eating with such a view would prepare us well for the remainder of the journey.
It turned out that we couldn’t find anywhere to eat at the top of the cliff over looking the lake, that real-estate seemed to have been taken up by people who liked to live there and save that view for their own personal enjoyment. We did however make it down to the lake and again, after some somewhat random searching, locate a nice restaurant by the lake with a view only marginally defiled by the landscaping construction works between us and the body of water.
As we’d limited our parking time and then had to walk a fair way to get to where we ended up eating, I opted to go fetch the car whilst Caroline and the kids had gelato. Again it’s the simply ideas that seem to end up being the most poorly executed and I found myself discovering the walled portion of old Como, mostly as a result of discovering a series of one way streets and a couple of poor turning choices. I did however managed to make my way back and locate the family and after a very short driving tour of the old city, we were on our way again.
Our drive out of Switzerland had taken us via San Gotthardo which is scenic, though somewhat longer than the more modern option of traveling via the engineering marvel that is the Gotthard tunnel. A 17km journey under the mountains.
Our return journey didn’t take us through the tunnel either, but over an alternate pass through the mountains. That was fine, because there’s been a lot of work on the pass over the years and there’s lots of tunnels and bridges and its quite a nice drive. Right up to the point where some of that work was still going on and they sent us on a merry detour up the old pass. That of course would be the really really windy one, with second gear switch backs every 150 metres or so and steep drops down the side of the mountain as reward for any driving incompetence one might show. In the dark.
Suffice to say we made it, but it did mean that we were somewhat delayed in our arrival in Glarus where Mirriam was kind enough to actually greet us when we pulled in close to midnight!
I didn’t really spend that much time thinking about it though because the bloke next to me managed to distract me. Not through stimulating conversation, because I established very quickly when I asked where he was from that he was Polish, but didn’t speak English. I also very quickly established that there were going to be boundary issues on the arm-rest given he was bigger than me and exceeding his spatial allotment. That and the fact that he smelt. Not only did he smell of having spent some pre-flight time in the bar, but also from having spent more than the allotted time either in the same clothes, or since last bathing.
If he sat still it wasn’t too bad, but it seemed that every time he moved the disturbance in the air became a disturbance of my olfactory senses. And of course, because his english was so poor, he couldn’t operate the in flight entertainment system, so he’d look at what I had on my screen and then indicate that he’d like to watch the same thing. I thought I’d left operating two systems behind the last time that I flew with Emily.
He did sleep that helped a little, but in the morning, he seemed curious to see what was outside of the plane all the time and would reach across me to lift the blind. This had a lovely dual effect. Firstly I was blinded by the bright daylight from outside due to having been watching movies in the near dark for the prior 6 hours or so and secondly, my olfactory senses were slammed with a sledge hammer as the less than fresh air about him was distributed across the plane.
I landed safely in Munich and apparently still have some sense of smell remaining.
During the transfer process in Munich I had to go back through the whole x-ray process with my hand luggage. Given that I was transporting two laptops, this was a painful process that I was glad to have only been through at the first flight in Fort McMurray. Munich managed to take things to a whole new level for me.
“Is that a doll in your luggage?” I was asked. Well, now that it’s been mentioned, yes, I was traveling with a doll in my hand luggage. It was Emily’s American Girl, Julie, that had been inadvertently left behind when they’d left the two weeks previously. Turns out that Julie had to go through the x-ray process all on her own.
I very briefly considered protesting that to put the poor doll through that might be considered an invasion of her privacy. However, upon consideration of the sorts of return invasions of MY privacy (not to mention my anatomy) that such protests might invoke, I decided to let the doll suffer through the affair. She appeared unconcerned at the prospect anyway and certainly made no complaint afterward.
The doll wasn’t the end of it though, they also insisted that I pull the cameras that were in my luggage out and have then go through the scanner again not to mention that I then had to turn the camera on and show them a picture as well! That’s one of those points in time when you start to wonder what the last photo you took was. In my case, it was a picture of Emily and Breagh, nothing to worry about at all.
For the final flight to Zurich, I actually managed to score an exit row seat which was nice, though somewhat wasted fortune considering it was such a minor hop of a flight. One shouldn’t complain though.
Upon arrival I was more than happy to pile into the van with an excited family and head off to Brennan where we were kindly being accommodated with Rita and Armin.
We spent a little time in Switzerland not doing a lot before our first excursion to Venice.
There were mixed reactions to the announcement that we were going to go to Venice, ranging from jealousy and people telling us that we’d love it to those that asked, “Why would you want to go there, its a crowded stinky place.”
Other than that, I had no real pre-conceptions about the place other than to expect lots of canals, over-priced gondolas and given that it was Summer, some delightful aromas that my Polish companion may have unwittingly prepared my nose for.
We drove the van across Italy, enjoying the changing scenery, counting the tunnels (something like 37 between Brunnen and Venice). Upon arrival, we parked the car, using one of the multi-storey carparks, which was an interesting exercise given we were in a large, 10 seater (that’s 4 rows of seats) Volkswagen van and we were assigned a park on the very top (8th) level of the car park. Things were a little nerve-wracking navigating the steep, circular spiraled ramps in the manual van. There was very little room for error and I was rather relieved to find that I managed to get to the top without any scratches or dents. There was plenty of evidence that those who had gone before had not all been able to say the same thing!
We had reduced our luggage for this trip which was a lovely little idea of Caroline’s that probably saved all sorts of hell as we made our way to the water ‘bus’ that was to take us around to where we were staying. The first sights of Venice were indeed inspirational as we cruised along the Grand Canal around to the San Marco stop where we would disembark.
With Venice being such and old and storied city, it seems almost pointless for me to try and capture what it is in a few words, so I won’t try. Suffice to say that I adored the architecture and uniqueness of the city. We dined out on PIzza and pasta and traipsed our way through the alleys and streets. With only two nights, we barely scratched the surface of the city, but then with 4 kids in tow, exploring museums and operas and the like was never really going to be an option anyway.
It was of course easy with the kids along to tell which of the shops were displaying the outrageously priced real Murano glass simply from the look on the face of the vendor when one entered the store. Those with the real glass on display were also those that stood with looks of impending doom upon their face and didn’t draw breath from the moment we entered until the moment we left their store. One of them must have been really over the top because as the kids went to go inside, he quite simply shooed them back out the door and denied them entry!
It was something of a relief when we finally left the last store to realise that we’d navigated so many shops with so much glass and managed to avoid destroying anything at all!
We stayed just in behind the Piazza San Marco, which given the amount of walking that the stay entailed and the fact that we dragged four kids along with us for the entire time, was a fabulous place to stay.
As with all visits, we had to leave and managed to do so intact, with everything that we’d taken there in the first place, which is always a nice way to do it (and never guaranteed). And so we drove back through the Italian countryside, admiring the churches and castles that adorned the higher elevations and cliffs and the terra cotta tiled houses in the villages that we passed. Around lunch time we decided that it would be nice to visit one of these small places and find some lunch at a nice bakery.
Such a simple plan. it only took an hour or so for us to get off the highway, drive into a village and wonder if it had been abandoned as we drove around looking for somewhere that might actually be open. Michael was most indignant when we finally found a supermarket to discover that they closed from 1 until 3:30. Or in other terms ... whilst we were there hungry.
Eventually after some frayed nerves and terse words, we did manage to find somewhere to eat and then returned to the highway, guided by Homer (Simpson, not the classic philosopher and my choice for the GPS voice) and on our way again back to Switzerland, with me declaring that we would never again leave the highway to search for a meal.
As famous last words go, I ate my own on that one. We drove along the highway past what we were later to discover was Como and in a fit of madness (or penance) I suggested that we drive in and find somewhere to eat. It was about the right time of day and the town appeared to be a village perched on a cliff over-looking a lake. I thought eating with such a view would prepare us well for the remainder of the journey.
It turned out that we couldn’t find anywhere to eat at the top of the cliff over looking the lake, that real-estate seemed to have been taken up by people who liked to live there and save that view for their own personal enjoyment. We did however make it down to the lake and again, after some somewhat random searching, locate a nice restaurant by the lake with a view only marginally defiled by the landscaping construction works between us and the body of water.
As we’d limited our parking time and then had to walk a fair way to get to where we ended up eating, I opted to go fetch the car whilst Caroline and the kids had gelato. Again it’s the simply ideas that seem to end up being the most poorly executed and I found myself discovering the walled portion of old Como, mostly as a result of discovering a series of one way streets and a couple of poor turning choices. I did however managed to make my way back and locate the family and after a very short driving tour of the old city, we were on our way again.
Our drive out of Switzerland had taken us via San Gotthardo which is scenic, though somewhat longer than the more modern option of traveling via the engineering marvel that is the Gotthard tunnel. A 17km journey under the mountains.
Our return journey didn’t take us through the tunnel either, but over an alternate pass through the mountains. That was fine, because there’s been a lot of work on the pass over the years and there’s lots of tunnels and bridges and its quite a nice drive. Right up to the point where some of that work was still going on and they sent us on a merry detour up the old pass. That of course would be the really really windy one, with second gear switch backs every 150 metres or so and steep drops down the side of the mountain as reward for any driving incompetence one might show. In the dark.
Suffice to say we made it, but it did mean that we were somewhat delayed in our arrival in Glarus where Mirriam was kind enough to actually greet us when we pulled in close to midnight!
Aug 10, 2010
Leaving
As seems to happen more often than not lately, its been some time since I made the time to sit down and write. There’s been plenty going on and that has been at least half the issue. Its been way to busy to take the time to sit down and write about it.
As I sit here and type this theres a small, compressed army working their way through our house with boxes, paper and enough tape to subdue a small herd of buffalo. That’s a good thing, because after four more sleeps i’ll be heading off to the airport to fly out of Fort McMurray for the last foreseeable time.
It’s been a frantic couple of months since the job decided to open up back in Adelaide. Between negotiating exit time frames betwixt the Canadian business (that really didn’t want me to leave until October at best) and the Australian business (who would have ideally liked to have had me in July) and then going through all the ‘oh crap this is really happening’ moments.
I didn’t write too much about the job because for some time it wasn’t even there and then it happened very suddenly. The federal government is spending some money on rail over the next couple of years and I am going back to do some project management on parts of my old stomping ground (and some new parts as well). It will be good to get back into rail for a while and I am looking forward to seeing some of the people that I now haven’t worked with for the last 3 years or so. Just have to finish packing at this end and of course, go through the whole extraction from the boxes process that happens at the other end.
Caroline and the kids have managed to do the smart thing and are currently traipsing around Switzerland, whilst I finish off work and see the packing finalised. Of course, when one considers the outward journey, there’s probably some justice in that approach because although I didn’t get an overseas holiday, I essentially missed the entire packing effort.
The only two real stress points for me at this stage are the fact that we haven’t managed to sell the caravan or the car. I have someone coming to look at the caravan tonight and hopefully they’re impressed by a) the fact that its a great caravan and b) by the fact that I am in sheer desperation and will be prepared to take a significant hit on it to see it safely off my hands before I head out of here.
Maybe by the time that I actually post this (internet is down just now) I’ll have better news on that front.
And so I am sitting here as the house turns into a series of boxes, waiting for the next step, wishing the next four nights had passed and that I was about to board a plane to go meet up with Caroline and the kids in Switzerland. But I do like to think that we shouldn’t wish our lives away and so I’ll grin and bear it, knowing that each day brings us closer again (at least until the day that I leave them all behind and continue on to Adelaide.
Between now and then appears to be a series of random goodbyes as I run into people and realise that in all likelihood, I am not likely to run into them again, often in strange locations at unexpected times.
One of the hardest things about leaving anywhere is always the special friends that you meet in your time there generally don’t come with you (not matter how much you might beg them to) and so the time until you get to see them again becomes a big unknown. We’ve made plenty of friends from around Australia, so I am sure that that is likely to become a consistent point of holidays into the future, but we’ve also met a lot of wonderful people from Canada. Enough that we’ll be looking to come back on a holiday visit at some point, even if it’s not all the way back to Fort McMurray.
And so as with all departures, there is an air of excitement about, ever so slightly tainted with the disappointment that we won’t be seeing some wonderful people quite as soon as we’d like.
As I sit here and type this theres a small, compressed army working their way through our house with boxes, paper and enough tape to subdue a small herd of buffalo. That’s a good thing, because after four more sleeps i’ll be heading off to the airport to fly out of Fort McMurray for the last foreseeable time.
It’s been a frantic couple of months since the job decided to open up back in Adelaide. Between negotiating exit time frames betwixt the Canadian business (that really didn’t want me to leave until October at best) and the Australian business (who would have ideally liked to have had me in July) and then going through all the ‘oh crap this is really happening’ moments.
I didn’t write too much about the job because for some time it wasn’t even there and then it happened very suddenly. The federal government is spending some money on rail over the next couple of years and I am going back to do some project management on parts of my old stomping ground (and some new parts as well). It will be good to get back into rail for a while and I am looking forward to seeing some of the people that I now haven’t worked with for the last 3 years or so. Just have to finish packing at this end and of course, go through the whole extraction from the boxes process that happens at the other end.
Caroline and the kids have managed to do the smart thing and are currently traipsing around Switzerland, whilst I finish off work and see the packing finalised. Of course, when one considers the outward journey, there’s probably some justice in that approach because although I didn’t get an overseas holiday, I essentially missed the entire packing effort.
The only two real stress points for me at this stage are the fact that we haven’t managed to sell the caravan or the car. I have someone coming to look at the caravan tonight and hopefully they’re impressed by a) the fact that its a great caravan and b) by the fact that I am in sheer desperation and will be prepared to take a significant hit on it to see it safely off my hands before I head out of here.
Maybe by the time that I actually post this (internet is down just now) I’ll have better news on that front.
And so I am sitting here as the house turns into a series of boxes, waiting for the next step, wishing the next four nights had passed and that I was about to board a plane to go meet up with Caroline and the kids in Switzerland. But I do like to think that we shouldn’t wish our lives away and so I’ll grin and bear it, knowing that each day brings us closer again (at least until the day that I leave them all behind and continue on to Adelaide.
Between now and then appears to be a series of random goodbyes as I run into people and realise that in all likelihood, I am not likely to run into them again, often in strange locations at unexpected times.
One of the hardest things about leaving anywhere is always the special friends that you meet in your time there generally don’t come with you (not matter how much you might beg them to) and so the time until you get to see them again becomes a big unknown. We’ve made plenty of friends from around Australia, so I am sure that that is likely to become a consistent point of holidays into the future, but we’ve also met a lot of wonderful people from Canada. Enough that we’ll be looking to come back on a holiday visit at some point, even if it’s not all the way back to Fort McMurray.
And so as with all departures, there is an air of excitement about, ever so slightly tainted with the disappointment that we won’t be seeing some wonderful people quite as soon as we’d like.
Jul 22, 2010
Living by List
There are those amongst us for whom life is a list. I can’t say that I’m really one of them. I have to force myself to write the to-do list and then I have to force myself to remember to look at it to make sure that I’m doing the things that I wrote down.
Caroline on the other hand is a lister for the ages. Last thing at night or first thing in the morning, she’ll be writing her list. Its probably why she’s such a wonderful mother. Heaven knows that with the four kids and everything they bring with them, if it wasn’t for some of those lists, things would quite simply fall apart.
As we start the process of heading home though, I can see that my life for the next couple of months is going to be nothing but a series of lists. It will all be in a good cause of course, but even so, it’s going to be interesting.
On the up side, at least we're on our way home!
Caroline on the other hand is a lister for the ages. Last thing at night or first thing in the morning, she’ll be writing her list. Its probably why she’s such a wonderful mother. Heaven knows that with the four kids and everything they bring with them, if it wasn’t for some of those lists, things would quite simply fall apart.
As we start the process of heading home though, I can see that my life for the next couple of months is going to be nothing but a series of lists. It will all be in a good cause of course, but even so, it’s going to be interesting.
On the up side, at least we're on our way home!
Jul 5, 2010
Proud
Last night was awards night at the kids school and we were fortunate enough to be invited (they only invite you if one of your kids is going to win something). We were in face extra lucky because we were invited on behalf of both Sam and Thomas.
Sam has made honour roll for the last 2 years and had been doing well again this year, so it was somewhat expected that Sam would once again manage honour roll and thus the reason for his invitation.
Thomas on the other hand, has had to work really hard right through school to over come the speech issues that he has and all that it entails with regard to reading and his general speed. He’s certainly a very clever lad and there’s no doubting his intelligence, but he has to work extra hard for his academic accomplishments. One of the most pleasant surprises in our time up here is how much support has been available within the school for Thomas to help him with his speech and related issues.
The one thing that has always been consistent with Thomas though has been his perseverance and willingness to undertake whatever is required for him to get through what he needs to. The other is the fact that his teachers have always said that he’s a willing helper and good role model in class. For that reason I expected that Thomas was going to pick up a ‘most improved student’ or ‘community’ award, so I was more than a little surprised when all the non-academic categories had been awarded and Thomas’ name hadn’t come up.
When it did come up for having made honour roll, my heart burst with pride and I can barely begin to describe how happy I was for him. Both of his older brothers had managed to get honour roll at least once (Michael may yet get it this year but we’re waiting on exam results) and it is ever so satisfying that Thomas has been able to join them in the club.
Congratulations Sam on your Honor roll hat trick and to Thomas for your amazing efforts!
And in a subsequent development (this is a week or so old) Michael managed to pull off Honor Roll as well this year and in addition, topped his class for Maths. Just another reason to be very proud.
Sam has made honour roll for the last 2 years and had been doing well again this year, so it was somewhat expected that Sam would once again manage honour roll and thus the reason for his invitation.
Thomas on the other hand, has had to work really hard right through school to over come the speech issues that he has and all that it entails with regard to reading and his general speed. He’s certainly a very clever lad and there’s no doubting his intelligence, but he has to work extra hard for his academic accomplishments. One of the most pleasant surprises in our time up here is how much support has been available within the school for Thomas to help him with his speech and related issues.
The one thing that has always been consistent with Thomas though has been his perseverance and willingness to undertake whatever is required for him to get through what he needs to. The other is the fact that his teachers have always said that he’s a willing helper and good role model in class. For that reason I expected that Thomas was going to pick up a ‘most improved student’ or ‘community’ award, so I was more than a little surprised when all the non-academic categories had been awarded and Thomas’ name hadn’t come up.
When it did come up for having made honour roll, my heart burst with pride and I can barely begin to describe how happy I was for him. Both of his older brothers had managed to get honour roll at least once (Michael may yet get it this year but we’re waiting on exam results) and it is ever so satisfying that Thomas has been able to join them in the club.
Congratulations Sam on your Honor roll hat trick and to Thomas for your amazing efforts!
And in a subsequent development (this is a week or so old) Michael managed to pull off Honor Roll as well this year and in addition, topped his class for Maths. Just another reason to be very proud.
Jun 13, 2010
The Great American Road Trip Pt.2 - Vegas Baby
After exploring our overnight camp spot for the morning, we finally arrived in Vegas mid afternoon, driving the RV toward the strip in one of those around and about GPS inspired tours, mainly prompted by the fact that we weren’t exactly sure where we were going to stay. It has been intended that we’d sort that out before we got there, but with the changed itinerary, that didn’t quite happen.
We found the strip, and pulled in at one of the first hotels that we came to, which happened to be one of those that Caroline’s research had turned up as a possibility to stay at – the Excalibur.
Eventually we managed to book ourselves in, park the RV and head into the hotel. The kids were super excited about getting to go for a swim, but when we were finally ready, we found out that the pool closed at some stupidly early time (obviously to encourage people to go gambling instead). Instead we decided to head out on the town, find somewhere to eat and see if we could line up some tickets to a Cirque de Soleil show.
The lights came on as we strolled the strip and we researched the best way to buy tickets, found m&m world (where Emily had a melt down as a result of being denied her own personal tube of mini-m&m’s). We had a great dinner and continued our stroll down the strip, taking in the various sights. It was a stupidly windy night – not windy enough to stop me from buying an over-sized margarita, but windy enough to stop the volcano erupting. We had hoped to get to the hotel with the roller coaster than ran on its roof, but in the end the kids were tired and it was totally at the other end of the strip (which is significantly longer than I’d expected) so we turned around and made our way back to our own hotel.
It didn’t appear that the roller coaster at New York New York (next to our own hotel) was running – again probably due to the wind) and with four kids in tow, I was left to walk past rather than into Coyote Ugly. We had to settle for putting the kids to bed and dragging our tired butts down to the casino for some blackjack.
There were no magic millions waiting for us though, so it was off to bed before too long.
Day two we followed through on our research and bought tickets to one of the Cirque de Soleil shows (its amazing how many of them run continuously in Vegas) and then spent most of the afternoon at Circus Circus where the kids indulged in some of the rides and eventually ended up cycling through the laser tag over and over again.
I had an interview with someone from home (that’s not going to result in anything) and after that, we were somewhat rushed to get some dinner in our bellies before going to the show. We thoroughly enjoyed it and then took the kids back and put them to bed.
Caroline and I hit the tables and after initially struggling to find one with a vibe that I liked, settled down in a seat next to a girl with a rather phallic balloon on her head on one side and her friend, wearing one about her waist on the other. They were obviously well into the spirit of Vegas and more importantly, the cards were being kind to me. It turned out that the girl with the balloon on her head was on her bachelorette trip and the other girl was her bridesmaid. She was more than happy to tell me that she was marrying on the 11th of September and that they were both pilots!
It wasn’t long after that that I ordered a drink from one of the waitresses and when she brought it back, I went to give her $10 bucks for it. She kept asking if I was tipping her. I was a little confused as whilst I had intended to tip her, I thought that I needed to pay for the drink first. It was about then that the girls that I was sitting with explained to me that you don’t pay for drinks whilst you’re gambling in Vegas. Hello! Spot the newbie!
Needless to say I had a couple more after that and got to enjoy such things as the bride-to-be shouting out “Look at me Daddy!” at the top of her lungs (her father had joined us at the table). I assume that’s not a saying that’s common in Vegas with some of the entertainment that’s available, but hell, one can’t be too sure and getting told off by the croupier for not talking like a lady. By the time Caroline came over and joined the table I was winning cash and drinking from a penis-straw supplied by the bridesmaid, who was more than impressed when I kept it for each subsequent drink.
Good times indeed.
We found the strip, and pulled in at one of the first hotels that we came to, which happened to be one of those that Caroline’s research had turned up as a possibility to stay at – the Excalibur.
Eventually we managed to book ourselves in, park the RV and head into the hotel. The kids were super excited about getting to go for a swim, but when we were finally ready, we found out that the pool closed at some stupidly early time (obviously to encourage people to go gambling instead). Instead we decided to head out on the town, find somewhere to eat and see if we could line up some tickets to a Cirque de Soleil show.
The lights came on as we strolled the strip and we researched the best way to buy tickets, found m&m world (where Emily had a melt down as a result of being denied her own personal tube of mini-m&m’s). We had a great dinner and continued our stroll down the strip, taking in the various sights. It was a stupidly windy night – not windy enough to stop me from buying an over-sized margarita, but windy enough to stop the volcano erupting. We had hoped to get to the hotel with the roller coaster than ran on its roof, but in the end the kids were tired and it was totally at the other end of the strip (which is significantly longer than I’d expected) so we turned around and made our way back to our own hotel.
It didn’t appear that the roller coaster at New York New York (next to our own hotel) was running – again probably due to the wind) and with four kids in tow, I was left to walk past rather than into Coyote Ugly. We had to settle for putting the kids to bed and dragging our tired butts down to the casino for some blackjack.
There were no magic millions waiting for us though, so it was off to bed before too long.
Day two we followed through on our research and bought tickets to one of the Cirque de Soleil shows (its amazing how many of them run continuously in Vegas) and then spent most of the afternoon at Circus Circus where the kids indulged in some of the rides and eventually ended up cycling through the laser tag over and over again.
I had an interview with someone from home (that’s not going to result in anything) and after that, we were somewhat rushed to get some dinner in our bellies before going to the show. We thoroughly enjoyed it and then took the kids back and put them to bed.
Caroline and I hit the tables and after initially struggling to find one with a vibe that I liked, settled down in a seat next to a girl with a rather phallic balloon on her head on one side and her friend, wearing one about her waist on the other. They were obviously well into the spirit of Vegas and more importantly, the cards were being kind to me. It turned out that the girl with the balloon on her head was on her bachelorette trip and the other girl was her bridesmaid. She was more than happy to tell me that she was marrying on the 11th of September and that they were both pilots!
It wasn’t long after that that I ordered a drink from one of the waitresses and when she brought it back, I went to give her $10 bucks for it. She kept asking if I was tipping her. I was a little confused as whilst I had intended to tip her, I thought that I needed to pay for the drink first. It was about then that the girls that I was sitting with explained to me that you don’t pay for drinks whilst you’re gambling in Vegas. Hello! Spot the newbie!
Needless to say I had a couple more after that and got to enjoy such things as the bride-to-be shouting out “Look at me Daddy!” at the top of her lungs (her father had joined us at the table). I assume that’s not a saying that’s common in Vegas with some of the entertainment that’s available, but hell, one can’t be too sure and getting told off by the croupier for not talking like a lady. By the time Caroline came over and joined the table I was winning cash and drinking from a penis-straw supplied by the bridesmaid, who was more than impressed when I kept it for each subsequent drink.
Good times indeed.
May 31, 2010
Looking for an Exit
As our time in Canada marches inexorably toward its end point, one of the greatest challenges that we’re facing is not knowing what the end point is. It is a great uncertainty that plays with one’s mind.
The process that has been outlined thus far (took some poking, prodding and not-so-subtle kicking to get it moving) essentially boils down to finding yourself a job back in Australia (with the company) and going for it. Once you have that secured, you then need to work around turning that into a date for return.
The company will of course be supporting us in all this and looking for opportunities as well, particularly in areas that lie outside our own sphere of contacts and influence.
It would be easier to feel good about the process if it was a tried and true and we’d had good feedback, but at this stage, its very much a mystery and the first people to be going through it are all doing so at the same time. So far, it doesn’t really seem like there’s hundreds of people jumping up and down to take us all back. I mean, when you think about it, when we all left they had to fill the jobs that we were in. Now, they either have to invent jobs, wait for people to leave or win new work to generate new positions and we’ve all been over here growing in skills and experience and aren’t necessarily looking to go back in the same capacity that we left in.
What that leaves us with is uncertainty. Lots and lots of uncertainty. There’s no fixed date or location, so when do we enrol kids in school? And when we do, which school do we enrol them in? Do we rely on getting something int he state that we want to go to or do we just go with a wing and a prayer. When do we start packing the house?
There’s much to think of, even more to organize and quite frankly its doing my head in and isn’t helped by working a turnaround just now and facing another between now and our mystery exit date!
The process that has been outlined thus far (took some poking, prodding and not-so-subtle kicking to get it moving) essentially boils down to finding yourself a job back in Australia (with the company) and going for it. Once you have that secured, you then need to work around turning that into a date for return.
The company will of course be supporting us in all this and looking for opportunities as well, particularly in areas that lie outside our own sphere of contacts and influence.
It would be easier to feel good about the process if it was a tried and true and we’d had good feedback, but at this stage, its very much a mystery and the first people to be going through it are all doing so at the same time. So far, it doesn’t really seem like there’s hundreds of people jumping up and down to take us all back. I mean, when you think about it, when we all left they had to fill the jobs that we were in. Now, they either have to invent jobs, wait for people to leave or win new work to generate new positions and we’ve all been over here growing in skills and experience and aren’t necessarily looking to go back in the same capacity that we left in.
What that leaves us with is uncertainty. Lots and lots of uncertainty. There’s no fixed date or location, so when do we enrol kids in school? And when we do, which school do we enrol them in? Do we rely on getting something int he state that we want to go to or do we just go with a wing and a prayer. When do we start packing the house?
There’s much to think of, even more to organize and quite frankly its doing my head in and isn’t helped by working a turnaround just now and facing another between now and our mystery exit date!
May 4, 2010
Hairlairious or Hairifying?
Caroline had told me that she was taking all the kids to have hair cuts today and so I was looking forward to seeing them all neat and tidy again when I arrived home from work. All of them except Michael that is because if the last couple of efforts were anything to go by, he was only going to lose an inch or so.
Before I left work, Caroline called to check when I’d been home and dropped into conversation the fact that Michael wasn’t happy with his and so not to be too harsh on him or make any sort of comment that was likely to offend him.
It brought back the time that I had a hair cut that I loved, but that everyone around me thought was something along the lines of ridiculous. My brother’s not so politically correct comment was “that’s fucked,” whilst Dad, being the understanding and creative individual that he is, took one look and said, “wear a hat.”
Well, as if I was going to cave in the face of such opposition! And being conscious of that, I haven’t pushed Michael too hard and wasn’t going to on this occasion either. I was kind of hoping that peer pressure might win him over, but clearly he doesn’t exactly worry about the opinion of his peers! That could be a good thing.
Anyway, I came home from work and was greeted by an ecstatic Thomas, complete with very short hair. Sam was equally happy with his short hair, but there was no sign of Michael or Emily. Turns out that Emily was enjoying some ‘personal time’ as a result of her reaction to the take away Chinese that had been brought home for dinner.
As for Michael, well I was of course most interested to see what had happened to his head. That was rather difficult though because I was soon informed that he had gone into hiding and hadn’t been sighted in the 2 hours since he’d come home from the hair dresser.
Apparently he’d sat and endured the massacre and as soon as it was finished, stormed from the chair directly to the car without even a comment. Needless to say that I was expecting something pretty bad, but decided that I’d have dinner before I bothered facing him. Eventually he was tracked down, but before I could see him, he slipped into his room and stood holding it, refusing entry. I tried to peek through the crack in the door, but that wasn’t going to do much. Michael was in no mind to let me in, going so far as to say that I was the one that he especially didn’t want to see it. I decided to give him time, but Caroline, having dealt with the 2 hour absence decided it was time to confront him. I left her to it.
I finally managed to sneak in to our room when he was talking to Caroline, still far from loving life. I only saw the back at first. It was shorter, maybe an inch above his neck line, may be a little messy. I lay down on the bed, not making any sudden moves or even commenting, waiting to be invited. When he finally did decide that I could have a look and let me see, it wasn’t really that bad at all.
Except for the fact that he hated it and that for a delicate young teenager’s soul that meant the world was ending.
Caroline, being the super-Mum that she is, proposed a solution: One of the Aussies that we’ve met here in Fort Mac happens to be a hair dresser. After a bit of a look on line to see if there was something that Michael might be able to live with after his hair had been ‘butchered’ and an emergency call was put into Mel.
A short time later, Michael was sitting on a chair in the living room, scissors being re-applied to his hair. A short time later again, he was done, there was a smile on his face and the world, whilst not perfect, had certainly tilted back toward a what a 13 year old might consider balanced.
Before I left work, Caroline called to check when I’d been home and dropped into conversation the fact that Michael wasn’t happy with his and so not to be too harsh on him or make any sort of comment that was likely to offend him.
It brought back the time that I had a hair cut that I loved, but that everyone around me thought was something along the lines of ridiculous. My brother’s not so politically correct comment was “that’s fucked,” whilst Dad, being the understanding and creative individual that he is, took one look and said, “wear a hat.”
Well, as if I was going to cave in the face of such opposition! And being conscious of that, I haven’t pushed Michael too hard and wasn’t going to on this occasion either. I was kind of hoping that peer pressure might win him over, but clearly he doesn’t exactly worry about the opinion of his peers! That could be a good thing.
Anyway, I came home from work and was greeted by an ecstatic Thomas, complete with very short hair. Sam was equally happy with his short hair, but there was no sign of Michael or Emily. Turns out that Emily was enjoying some ‘personal time’ as a result of her reaction to the take away Chinese that had been brought home for dinner.
As for Michael, well I was of course most interested to see what had happened to his head. That was rather difficult though because I was soon informed that he had gone into hiding and hadn’t been sighted in the 2 hours since he’d come home from the hair dresser.
Apparently he’d sat and endured the massacre and as soon as it was finished, stormed from the chair directly to the car without even a comment. Needless to say that I was expecting something pretty bad, but decided that I’d have dinner before I bothered facing him. Eventually he was tracked down, but before I could see him, he slipped into his room and stood holding it, refusing entry. I tried to peek through the crack in the door, but that wasn’t going to do much. Michael was in no mind to let me in, going so far as to say that I was the one that he especially didn’t want to see it. I decided to give him time, but Caroline, having dealt with the 2 hour absence decided it was time to confront him. I left her to it.
I finally managed to sneak in to our room when he was talking to Caroline, still far from loving life. I only saw the back at first. It was shorter, maybe an inch above his neck line, may be a little messy. I lay down on the bed, not making any sudden moves or even commenting, waiting to be invited. When he finally did decide that I could have a look and let me see, it wasn’t really that bad at all.
Except for the fact that he hated it and that for a delicate young teenager’s soul that meant the world was ending.
Caroline, being the super-Mum that she is, proposed a solution: One of the Aussies that we’ve met here in Fort Mac happens to be a hair dresser. After a bit of a look on line to see if there was something that Michael might be able to live with after his hair had been ‘butchered’ and an emergency call was put into Mel.
A short time later, Michael was sitting on a chair in the living room, scissors being re-applied to his hair. A short time later again, he was done, there was a smile on his face and the world, whilst not perfect, had certainly tilted back toward a what a 13 year old might consider balanced.
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