It's snow time

The sunny beaches of Australia have never been so far away. The snow here has already melted, but it left us enough time to go out and play and take some nice pictures.

Here’s one, but if you like lamb and don’t want to be put off eating it, just scroll down quickly and close your eyes as you do so, as the next picture shows the cutest baby sheep ever.

Even Phil considered the idea of becoming vegetarian when faced by those innocent creatures of the nearby field(err, no I didn’t...actually I thought about building a fire, skewering one and turning the wee thing into a spit roast).

Although it looks like this next picture was taken at the far flung North Pole, it was only taken a few minutes from where we now live. And no, that’s not the North Pole, just East Sussex.

We should maybe start looking for another name for our blog; somehow, Under the Aussie Sun doesn’t seem so appropriate anymore.

Our Hanzel-and-Gretel-like cottage is becoming more and more ‘homey’. We have unpacked all our boxes (which appear to number into the thousands) and put up our picture frames on the (obscenely uneven) walls, so we now feel more like home. However, we’re still trying to get used to the uncommon architecture of the house, and make all efforts possible to avoid banging our heads on the low beams. We’re counting and the score at the moment is: 3 points for Phil and 4 for me (you earn one point each time you bang your head. So if you want to play and earn points, why don’t you come and pay us a visit. The only visitors we’ve had so far are my parents, and they were not much fun to play with, they are good beam-dodgers. Next weekend, Celia and Thomas are coming, and I have high expectations of my very tall brother-in-law... hee, hee, watch out Thomas)! (My wife is making it sound like a fun game, but let me assure you that the first few times it felt like a sniper had shot me in the head and before I knew it my feet were in the air and I was on my rear end... not so fun, especially with a cup of piping hot tea in hand)

The last and only other time I felt tall like that was in Vietnam, where I was even taller than the national Basketball team.

Sigh, we cannot stay here forever and we are now looking for a house to buy and this marks a clear end to out days of youth. A few months ago Phil and I would have furious debates about the best way to crack-open coconut. Now our pillow talk is about the differences between free hold and lease holds, fixed or tracker mortgages, two bedroom or three bedrooms and which bank offers the best annual percentage ratings. It’s so much fun! (If you don’t want to come and visit us now, you’re forgiven!)

The good news is that I have been offered a job to start at the end of the month. So this means I won’t have to spend the whole day on my own anymore. I’m starting to feel like a mix between Snow White (without the pretty dress) and Mme Bovary (without all the lovers). I feel obliged to knit and bake, just because of the countryside mood this house is putting me in. I’m looking forward to starting work, even though the school is quite far away. But never mind, as Jess suggested, I shall use the driving time to sing out loud to JJG’s songs and not feel guilty as no one can hear me.

Phil is still working in Eastbourne, and slowly accepting the fact that unlike Australia or Scotland, he cannot simply storm into people’s houses and avoid paperwork as a consequence (‘tis true, ‘tis sad, ‘tis not fair).

Here’s one of our neighbours. Not very talkative, but friendly enough.

And to get to the village square, from our house, we must cross this field.

We are surrounded by animals: sheep, horses, countless birds, rabbits and even badgers and ferrets.

No more fluffy koalas or cheeky kangaroos, but no more creepy spiders and ugly preying mantas either.

Our village, Alfriston, is not far from Brighton on the South coast. In fact, you don’t get more English than Alfriston. During the 2^nd World War, soldiers fighting abroad were apparently sent pictures of the village to inspire them to keep on fighting for good old England.

The post office on the village square.

Talking of Britishness and the 2^nd World War...Britain is a country in crisis at the moment, and it’s not just because of the recession (or, as our well-spoken Prime minister put it, depression. Good old Gordon, nothing like a cheerful leader to perk up the troops). No, the main cause of the crisis at the moment is the heavy load of snow that is falling over the country. On Monday, London woke up covered in snow and, not being used to it and catered for it, the buses and trains were not able to circulate. Some people complained about not being able to go to work and some people rejoiced about not being able to go to work!

But everyone was united in their surprise when told that buses would not be running. How surprising indeed, as during the war, when the Germans were bombing the hell out of London, the Brits, valiantly brave as they are, were still able to hop on the bus in London. Some renowned war-experts have suggested that should the Luftwaffe threw over buckets of snow instead of bombs, they might have won the war. Who knows?

Before I stop, I would like to share this beautiful poem sent to me by our friend Peter, in Australia. The poem is entitled: The Australian Summer. It is a beautiful piece of literature, and I hope that even if you haven’t been there, you’ll appreciate its candour, and lyrical values. It certainly transported me back to this beautiful, mysterious, untamed country Australia is.

The Australian Summer, by Laura McIntyre.

It’s fu***ng HOT!

And last one before I go on to knitting socks and baking cakes, I would like to know how many of you share my thoughts regarding Phil’s contributions to the blog. Who, other than me, thinks that he is seriously taking the piss for not writing any posts for ages, and who else still remembers his promise to tell us all about Egypt and New York, and show us some apparently beautiful pictures taken with his new toy?

I’m thinking about starting a new Facebook group regarding the matter, but in the mean time, please let him know what you think about his absence: Please vote on the right, or even better, leave him a message in the commentary section of this post. I’m thinking the more people nag him, the more likely he is to give in. (What an evil wife I can sometimes be. Cackle, cackle, cackle)! (Cheers, Ju!)