Foreigner

When it gets like this I am a disease, a grafted organ repulsed by its host. I am Jonah attempting to wrench himself from the hostile bowels of the whale, to spew himself onto some sandy shore or desert or spot in the sun. Homeward bound down stricken home sick.

morning haze

This morning I slowly woke to the sound of kids playing on the oval at Wilston Primary and a dog yapping outside the bakery. Through my closed eyelids I could see tradies with their meat pie and Breaka; mums with a loaf of white and three cream buns; Chris from the post office dropping in for his coke and chicken and avocado roll.

I vaguely thought, "Are we driving to the southside today? Picking up a cheesecake for family lunch? Afterwards we can stop at Sunnybank for Gloria Jeans and a cheap movie."

Then I opened my eyes to a different scene. Remembered Macrgregor and Rochedale South are a day - not a car ride - away.

And the thought of a marble cheesecake from Mrs Robertson's made me feel a little bit sick.

where the heart is

Something unexpected has crept upon me these past six months: I have found my heart has two, equal, homes. In hindsight, here's how I believe it happened.

February. Winter had devoured me and I truly thought it would never ever end; my memory of any warmth had vanished and I believed the seasons in this god-forsaken place would turn only from bitter to melancholy and back again. I was a forgotten ghost in an alien world, losing sight of the paradise I called home.

March. The light lasted longer each day. Birds whistled in the mornings. But I was still battered by the brash winds when I stepped outside and, with no certain date set for our return, only dreamed of my family and friends back home. Neil saw my tears and suggested: why not head home for a visit?

April. Homeward bound. On the flight to Australia I found the place where I could embrace everything fully, ready to let it all go after 14 days. I opened myself to every moment, every encounter, every ray of sun. And I noticed, staying at my parents' place, where I hadn't lived for six years, that my old home here - the flat in the Grange - wasn't home anymore. People had warned me I wouldn't want to return to England. But when the volcanic ash cloud turned my two weeks in Brisbane into three and a half, I missed home. I mostly missed Neil, but I also missed my new Norwich home.

May. Trips around England with Australian girls reminded me: I am an Australian in England. So simple, but somehow so tricky to balance. Too much of being an Australian and I lose out on being here now - the one thing I want most to do. Too much of being in England and I forget there are parts of me that think differently, know differently, speak differently - yes, I have an accent and everyone can tell! - though subtle, these differences are there and they are okay and they are me.

June. Heading home from an amazing trip to Barcelona, I realise I am heading home. We celebrate six years of marriage in a quiet Norfolk B&B. Here we are; we are here and we are happy.

July. Summer smacks me and laughs, "I am alive in these parts!" I roast on the balcony and plan my summer holidays, and the next school year. Here, at my school, where I am, now.

August. I thrill at the chance to host Aussie mates, showing them my new home, sharing discoveries of this amazing place. I will miss it here so dearly, I think. I already miss it, devouring every exploration and each enjoyment as though it will vanish any day. The stickers on the map in the spare room tell a tale of journeys made and journeys yet to come. There's more here for me, so much more. I research visa requirements, indefinite leave to remain. I dream about Christmas here again, about the Autumn illuminations, about frosty nights and snow days and my red winter coat.

I don't want to go home yet, because, I love this home.

Autumn Lights

The dazzling view from our new flat, as pictured below, seems to have shifted my perspective on the season.

Frozen fireworks
Blurred blaze
Colours caught in their fiery spray

Blackened branches
Charcoal haze
Embers clutching the flickering flames

Spitting sparks
Dazzling rays
Moment showered in a golden daze

whirlwind

The last two or three weeks have been a blur of new faces and places, as well as piles of paperwork and endless errands.

Our first weekend here was a blast as Neil's workmates plunged us into their social circles and we gallivanted nonstop around town enjoying ourselves.

The next week we knuckled down and focused on finding a place to rent. After viewing a selection of locations including a run-down flat, a retirement unit and a charming but cold terraced house, we opted for a nice flat near town. The flat itself is new but built inside the old hospital building which is quite stately with it's turrets and high ceilings. We moved in that weekend and, while Neil started work the following week, I kept busy assembling furniture, washing new linen and crockery, running errands and so on. The 'home duties' label given to me by the bank was proven true.

Last weekend our great friends from Australia came to visit us after their 2-month tour of Europe. Seeing them was brilliant fun, and brought the mixed feeling of missing Australia yet being inspired by their time on the continent.

This week Neil is of course at work, while I focus my energies on finding a job of my own. This has proven to be quite a marathon of an obstacle course. When it comes to seeking work as a teacher, I'm continually jumping through hoops, dodging projectiles and taking detours at the sight of big signs which read "British-trained European Union citizens only". As far as non-teaching work goes, I find I can barely focus on finding it, since teaching is a higher priority at this time when positions become vacant for September. And yet, can we really wait til September for me to contribute an income? And so sometimes I feel like I'm running a cross-country that has no finish line.

However, I am really enjoying life in this town. There are plenty of interesting, provocative and entertaining events here yet the 'small town' feel is very obvious. The people we hang out with are easy and enjoyable company, and the places we've visited around the county and beyond have been delightful. Neil and I are enjoying life together and, living so close to town, have access to so many people and places. Yes, as the welcome sign asserts, Norwich truly is a fine city.