Mary in Mosman (dedicated to my amazing mum)

As regular readers of my blog will know, I have a long, and lasting, relationship with Australia.  Having done my rite of passage backpacking trip in ’94, I seemed to spend a month here every second year.  Not always with the same person, but I like to think I was doing my bit for tourism, and the local economy.

I’m now on first name terms with the local Hunter Valley wine testing tour guide.  And if I go on one more Captain Cruise tour of the Harbour I think I will be offered shares.

Mothers' Day cruise

I digress. 

All the trips here, the developing love affair, all led to me becoming a permanent resident of this glorious country, and hence the inception of this blog, documenting my travels and travails along the way.

In this time, if I had a dollar for each occasion mum said “I will come out one day and see Australia”, I would have more money already than my sister seems to be managing to save in her tin for a trip here.

So, on a long scooter ride last year, wind buffeting me and the Besbi, with time to think and with thoughts racing through my head, I made a decision.  I went home that night, and booked a return flight home.  And a flight back with me for mum.  This was the only way it was going to happen.  I had to take charge.  If you were reading this blog last year, you would be forgiven for thinking I may not have even still been here right now.  In Australia I mean.  Not anything more sinister.

I decided that mum was coming to Australia.  Before life took over.  She was coming.  All I had to do now was break the news to her.  That was an emotional Skype call, but in a good way.  Once mum had run off outside for some fresh air, and returned to my little glowing computer screen, it had become a reality.

Not having flown further than Europe before, I did wonder if I had bitten off more than I could chew.  This could prove to be an ordeal.  Twenty four hours, with a couple of stops in Munich and Singapore along the way, cooped up in a glorified tin can.

But it has to be said, it was “too easy, no dramas”.   I think all the food served on the plane took mum’s mind of the actual flying.  At one point I thought I’d fallen asleep and woken up in the middle of an episode of Man (or mum) versus Food!

Surely, she didn’t have room for a Magnum ice cream after ALL th……..oh wait……

Mary versus food

In no time at all we had touched down on Australian soil, were in a cab, zooming across the city, and Mary was in Mosman.

What followed was a fantastic 3 weeks of showing mum around the back yard.  Where I have chosen to currently call home.  Show her what keeps me here. 

One thing I had resolved to do was get mum being a bit more adventurous when eating out.  Go to any pub / café / restaurant with mum, hand her the world’s largest menu, and I can predict with eerie accuracy what she will order.  “Scampi and chips please son.”

Well, we were having none of that on this holiday.  Although she did try. 

I’m not sure she was too impressed when on one of her first days here, I took her for seafood.  With NO scampi.  Her face was a picture when I offered her some octopus tentacles.  And prawns that required the heads pulling off, and peeling were not what she was used to from Wetherspoon’s.

Another first was a wine tasting trip.  Being Sydney’s most loyal customer, Sam the owner provided my trip at half price, with a promise that my next visit would be complimentary.  I am already checking the calendar for when I will be taking him up on this offer. 

I had purposefully chosen this particular trip, as on the way to the Hunter, we have morning coffee at a wildlife centre.  Giving you the opportunity to get up and close with all your Australian favourites, although I think this little fella is everyone’s fave!

I think the wine was less of a hit with mum, but I benefited from this, having double tastings.  Now this was MY kind of trip J

Can't see any shrimps on that barbie!

Other highlights included the Mother’s Day lunch trip around the Harbour, a trip to Summer Bay (aka Palm Beach), an amazing high tea at Boronia House, a visit to Bondi beach (everybody has to on their first trip, despite what the locals say), and the numerous BBQs we had. 

A particular highlight for me was mum frequenting the many stores in Mosman.  Could I keep her out of the haberdashery?  How much knitting can one granny do?  And who would call a homeware store “Bird bath and Table”?  Nobody but mum it seems…

Mum, we had a great time.  You were a fantastic house guest.  I miss you every day.  And I look forward to seeing you again on these shores next year.

Yorkshire Revisited

You may have noticed it has been a while since my last post.  You may even have been worried I had come to some harm.  But fear not, I think I just had a case of writer's block.  Or more literally, blogger's block.  I seem to have now gone the other way and have written what is perhaps my longest blog ever.

In truth, it has been a very busy few weeks, much of what I'll cover in the next couple of posts.  Those of you tuning in, eagerly hoping to hear of the exploits of Ma Cormack on her antipodean adventure will be disappointed.  This blog will be to recap on my trip back to the UK and thus, the "Mary in Mosman" blog will follow in a few weeks.

So the end of February saw me jetting back to the homeland.  The primary objective being to escort mum back to Sydney with me.  An expat's life and location can be very precarious and I figured that if mum was ever gonna see the land down under, I would have to go and literally bring her.  I once worked in Dublin for 18 months, a 40-minute flight away, and she never got across the water.  So I was determined to get her Australia passport stamp!

The timing couldn't have been better, with my 1-year contract at work expiring at the end of February, and me flying to England the next day.  With luck (scratches head and wonders if this is the right word), and maybe a smidgen of hard work, I had secured a further 1-year contract at the same bank, on the proviso that my current trip stood and I could have a month unpaid leave.  A well documented hand-over to my hard working team (just in case they are reading) and I was off, knowing everything was in safe hands 'til I returned in April-ish.

Leaving Sydney did feel very strange.  A much different feeling to when I went home last year.  I suppose I was mentally in a very different place last year and wasn't sure if it was the start of the end of my Australian odyssey.  A year on and things are very different.  I felt like I was leaving home, to go home.  As a good friend reminded me at the time, "we are lucky now, we have two beautiful homes".  And he is right.

Returning to Yorkshire again reminded me of why it is one of the most beautiful places I have been to in the world.  And I have been to a few.  I'm not sure there are many places that compare.  Where folk actually talk proper.  And without getting too sentimental, although it seems to be happening more as I get older, I have the best group of friends and family a person could wish for.  Maybe an eclectic, diverse set of friends.  And a hectic, on the edge of crazy, family.  But I wouldn't change any of them for the world.  You guys are what make my trips.

Every day I was reminded of the importance of keeping your special friends in your life.  And how those bonds grow stronger despite the distance between us.  It may sound ironic coming from me, the guy who upped and left, all alone, as far away as he could possibly go, yet I have never lost touch with people.  A phone call here, postcard there.  And what we would do without FaceTime and Skype these days?  My Easter got off to the best possible start with a call from home this morning.

I only had a couple of weeks at home, not really long enough to do everything I would like, but long enough to do many of the things I like.  Need I mention the food?  Those with a keen eye for detail will already know I have an obsession with fish & chips.  And not the very inferior version I can get here in Australia.  But I mean real, proper fish & chips, wi’ bits and curry sauce.  A pot of tea and slice of bread on the side.  Fellow diners in Blakeley’s of Brighouse may have thought I had just been released from a long stint in prison, at the rate I devoured my plate.  Now THAT is what I am talking about.

Of course curries featured highly in my “diet”, as did Yorkshire puddings, and the now annual lamb dinner.  Thanks sis, what a great day that was, even though I did end up driving and chauffeuring the more inebriated amongst us home.

Service at some of the eating establishments did baffle me, at times leaving me creased over laughing at the sheer absurdity of it.  On one very memorable morning I thought we had wandered into Fawlty Towers, and I kept waiting for Manuel to pop out.  Breakfasts were ordered, and arrived, upon which I thought, “hmm, quite an expensive breakfast to only receive 1 slice of toast”.  The waiter then proceeded to tell us that more toast was on the way, it was in the toaster! 

Now, I have not spent much time in the hospitality industry, but wouldn’t you wait until ALL the toast was ready, and THEN bring out the breakfasts? 

It got better.  I asked for some brown sauce, and he promptly returned with some, in a coffee cup!!!!  Have you ever seen the like?  The morning’s shenanigans didn’t end there.  Half way through munching my toast, another young chap who worked there, approached me at the table, with a half eaten cake in a box, and said, “before you forget sir, your cake”.  By this point I had fallen off my chair laughing.  Just WHO did he think I was?  And why would I have a half eaten cake in his restaurant?  Good grief, I said take me home.  There is only so much fun somebody can have in one morning.

One morning I definitely was not laughing was following a fantastic night out in Leeds.  One in which catching the last train home was the target.  The last train was at 11.20pm.  It didn’t happen.  Even with the female contingent bringing their posh handbags (which supposedly means they couldn’t POSSIBLY stay out late). 

Cue a very funny night, finished by drinking England’s supply of champagne, coupled with some bizarre concoction that my sister insisted on adding to each drink.  I think it may have been slightly off, maybe out of date, as I think that is why I was so ill the following day.  Then again, getting a lift home off my sister, who took a speed bump so fast I thought we wouldn’t land until we hit Sydney, could have precipitated my downfall.

I was so green I could have hidden in a bowl of peas.  And once getting in my own car, my attempt at the same said speed bump was hilarious.  Trying to protect my delicate head, I rolled up to the bump so slowly that I didn’t get over it.  I just hit it, and the car rolled backwards.  It was going to be a VERY long day.

There are many other memories from that trip, way too many to cover in what has now become a very long post.  I hope you are still with me.  But needless to say, I had an amazing time, even saw a beautiful part of Yorkshire I hadn’t been to before, and had some amazing food.  Thank you.  Even if I won’t be adding Ripon to my list of “must see” places next time.

The usual heartfelt goodbyes signalled the end of this trip, not really knowing when I will next be in the country.  So there is nothing else for it, it's time to come the other way, to me.  Get planning.  Sydney awaits.

Well, once more, like my brief trip home, it is now time to wrap it up folks.  I have to dash.  I have a Pannini football World Cup sticker album to try and find.  

Anyone for swapsies?

It's elementary...

February already and I’m wondering where January went?  Wasn’t it just yesterday that I was trudging back into work following the bacchanalian excesses of the Christmas period?

And here we are, in February, with people pushing the ridiculous notion of “FebFast”, whereby you give up one of your reasons for living, namely alcohol or junk food.  I have never really got my head around people would want to do something of such absurdity.  Be miserable for a WHOLE month?  No thank you.  I mean, I could get knocked down by a bus at the end of the month and where would I be then?  Apart from dead, I would make a very melancholic corpse.

All the above said, the alcohol consumption has dropped off considerably now that I have readjusted to not having overseas visitors.  I’m not saying they drank a lot, but I secretly started googling “liver transplants”.  My lifestyle is still some way from monastic, but the bottle recycling is definitely getting visited less.

This month could a blog to replace the long running BBC film review show.  Maybe a homage to the art of movie going.  Barry Norman, or Jonathan Ross to the younger readers, would be impressed.

I have once again been to the outstanding Hayden Orpheum art deco cinema (The Book Thief 8/10), then had my first taste of Gold Class at Event Cinema (American Hustle 7.5/10) in the city (I may never return to the cheap seats.  Wine and food, brought to your seat, which, by the way, is only a bloody Lazy Boy seat!!), and completed the hat trick with a visit to the IMB Outdoor Sunset cinema (Anchorman 2 6/10) at the resplendent North Sydney Oval.  This was an experience that could have easily turned into a disaster, looking at the ominous storm clouds that hovered above. 

With no umbrella, not even a cheap one, let alone one of the kind that some ostentatious Sydneysiders pay hundreds of dollars for, had the rain arrived, I would have had to hastily extricate myself from quite possibly the comfiest bean bag I have ever sat on.  As it turned out, the rain held off and I was able to enjoy Anchorman 2, with my Crust pizza, burnt fig ice cream, and generous amounts of cabernet sauvignon.  Happy days.

A giant inflatable screen

As much as I love the cinema, I think I may have a month with a new box set, on the sofa at Cormack HQ.  Getting through the remainder of the Christmas booze.  See?  How impossible it is to consider the folly that is FebFast?

For my viewing delight this month “Sherlock” has been recommended to me, and as well as it being based in beautiful London town, who doesn’t love his inimitable sidekick, Dr Watson?  I just need to bribe a friend now to lend me a copy of the first series.  And I think I have just what I need, some “medicine for mummies”, in the form of bottles of Peroni.  Another reason why I’ve always loved the Italians.  Great beer to complement outstanding food.  Molto bene.

On that note, I will wrap up, and go treat myself to a cold drink (yes, before you ask, an alcoholic one) and put together a playlist for a mate.  I agree that The Clash, London Calling is a great track, but why on earth he wants Just Jack, Stars in their Eyes is beyond me.  Oh well, there is no accounting for taste, as they say.

Enjoy February folks.  Remember, it is only 28 days long so make the most of everyone of those days.  At the end, on March 1^st, I will be back in the UK, and will no doubt be forced to drink again.

Maybe FebFast isn’t a bad idea after all!!

New Year, But No Resolutions

Remember me?  I am still alive and well, for those that have been missing your regular update from the land Down Under.

It has been a while, and I can lay the blame at the door of a number of things, but let’s just say that the old adage of “time flies when you are having fun” is very much true.  Much fun has indeed been had.

Since we last caught up I have been through a birthday, Xmas, and another Sydney New Years Eve firework extravaganza.  Which were even better than last year if that is possible.  Admittedly, my birthday and Xmas were on the same day, but still.

I have had my summer holiday, with 2 weeks off work over Xmas and I’m not sure there is a better place in the world to spend it than Sydney.  The city comes alive with numerous pop up bars, festivals, street art, (very) long boozy lunches, and long leisurely hung-over brunches.

As if four bottles of the best sauvignon blanc wasn't enough, some people had to then move onto the cocktails.  Little wonder we managed to get asked to leave.  But by then we had left the Opera Bar and moved onto The Argyle, quite a classy establishment in The Rocks area of Sydney.  Had we been in the Salvation in Halifax I’m sure it would have been a very different story.  All in all, another great day.

I can't speak for the night though.  Due to not actually remembering much of it!   I’m not sure if this was a result of the aforementioned bottles of wine, or just too much sun.  But, strangely enough, I keep having dream like flash backs (and being kindly reminded) to performing some kind of nosedive.  Hmm, very strange :-)

Talking of my birthday, my friends, in their kindness, tried to secretly buy me a birthday cake in Woolworths.  I’m not kidding you, it was like a military operation planned by Benny Hill.  (Australian readers may want to check out You Tube).  I could almost hear the music playing as we chased each other around the aisles.  But what a lovely thought, the flaming galahs!

Last year, for my birthday, the weather unceremoniously pissed on my parade.  Almost quite literally.  Poured down all day.  Surely lightening couldn’t strike twice.  Right?  So big plans were made this year.  Little cute wine glass holder type things, for sticking in the sand holding your glass, an esky, new beach chair.  The whole shooting match. 

And yes, you guessed it!  Following being initiated into the Xmas Eve night tradition that is the “Home Alone” movie marathon (keep the change ya filthy animal) we once again ended up on Xmas morning with Bucks Fizz and a wet, distinctly British, BBQ.  I had very gratefully had some presents brought over from my family back home, and with my friends in my adopted country looking after me I managed to really feel like I could celebrate, despite being thousands of miles away from family.  That is one thing that is so important as an expat, making very good friends, who then become like a second family.

So we had rain again on my big day, but all is well that ends well and it did indeed end up being a fantastic day, with me cleaning up in various competitions including video games, and that old classic, charades.  Ok, I may not have actually won at Mario Kart (or even come a close second), but my efforts at charades took the limelight.  I think I should have been a thespian.  Never has there been a better mime of the film Psycho.

I’m pleased to say that the sun gods did shine on us for the rest of the holidays, enabling me to get my tan on.  And the weather was perfect for another trip into the Hunter Valley vineyards.  Although it is quite possibly the first time I have ever heard a wine tasting trip up there described as thus, "by 'eck, its like a white knuckle ride!".  Shurrrup!  And despite there being an abundance of good wines in the Hunter, I just don’t think there will ever be enough soda water for some people ;-)

I can’t end without saying that this time of year is usually a time of making resolutions.  I’m sure a few of you have made them.  I’m equally sure that some of you will have even broken some of them already.  Be honest.

I’m not making any as I feel that things are going good right now.  Through parts of last year you saw me sharing my homesickness with you.  Even deliberating about whether to return to the UK or not.  But for now, I am a lot more settled, and have even just accepted a 1-year extension to my contract at work.  Apologies to my long suffering work colleagues but for some time yet you will have to cope with my Monday morning moans about how badly my beloved football team have done over the weekend.  And surely you can’t dine out on your lucky Ashes victory for much longer, *crosses fingers*.

This doesn’t take the homesickness away, but I am having another trip home in 6 weeks so this will continue to alleviate it whilst I determine my rightful place in the world.  I’ll be having a flying visit for a couple of weeks, catch up with family and friends, including my gorgeous little niece who I unfortunately have not seen since I left the UK in 2012.  Then, rather excitingly, I will be returning home, with Ma Cormack in tow for her visit tour of duty in Australia.

My only concern for my trip to the UK will be the weather.  I have not had a European winter for 3 years so will need to put away my thongs and remember where I put my winter clothes.   The UK weather in March?   Anybody know the long term forecast?  Will I need to be hibernating in front of a roaring log fire with copious amounts of whisky?  Or will I be able to sip champagne in a hot tub? 

Answers by return please.