What they don't tell you about moving abroad II

Well, Bloggy Friends, you always come up trumps. You are all totally spot on, of course, and if I wasn’t so darn trapped in the physical world, I’d just curl up in a nice corner of the blogosphere, and you could all come and visit. We’d drink virtual wine that doesn’t give you a hangover or do your liver any damage, talk about virtual things and be virtually happy.

The mold in our basement would virtually go away; the people who sold us the house as having a dry basement would virtually agree to pay for the work we are needing to have done to make it so, without us having to go to virtual mediation; I would win the battle against clutter (that’s real, I’m afraid, there’s nothing virtual about clutter); I would have lots of virtual time to write and read blogs; going to the virtual gym or pool would be inherently interesting and fun rather than a necessary evil and would therefore happen, and there would be lots of virtual English countryside and sea.

Actually, I feel a bit of a fraud because in general I am feeling much happier here. The new school year has brought more opportunities to get involved in things, and to meet people. The boys have made new friends, and all seems to be going well for them. 3-yo is thriving at preschool. Life has a shape to it. A rather strange shape, with lumps and bumps where sleek lines should be, but a shape. A warty gourd rather than a smooth butternut squash, but that’s a shape. I do have time to myself (of sorts). There is still much chaos, but it is receding, and let’s face it, it never goes entirely. There are things I’m excited about: we are going to San Diego for a week in November, my mother and sister are coming for Christmas, on the strength of my blog someone has asked me to write an article for a magazine for people thinking of emigrating. There are people I like spending time with: I’m getting to know other moms at school and preschool, I’ve formed a book club with 3 other people and it’s great. So things are falling into place, and of course there’s always chocolate.

I think it is this: that moving away from home is some kind of bereavement. Everyone will tell you about the stages of grief, and how, just as life is coming together again and you seem to be making sense of it, suddenly you are plunged back into the depths. You might see why that happened - a familiar voice, a triggered memory, a smell in the air - but it might just come out of nowhere. And of course there is the delay factor. For the first while, making arrangements dominates, but then when you see that life functions, you surface and have a little more time to catch breath and reflect. Perhaps that’s where I am. Sniffing the air (but not inhaling too deeply because of the potential mold spores) and pausing for thought. Catching up with myself, and I tell you, I’ve been running so fast over the past 12 months that I’ve got to sprint fast to get me.

I never know whether blogging is really a good thing or not. It’s great to be part of a community of people who know how to hit the spot in a comment three sentences long, re-telling old truths, or giving a new insight. But I can’t help feeling it must be a bit dysfunctional. Is it stopping me making as much effort to get to know people here? You know, REAL people. Down the road people. Round the corner people. I would say not (I’ve thought about this carefully), because I think that local life happens slowly, in its own mellow time, and there doesn’t seem to be a lot you can do to hurry the process. Of course, it’s not mutually exclusive – you can inhabit real space and virtual space together.

I know myself well enough to know that if I didn’t blog, I wouldn’t have a tidier house, a cleaner house, a more focused life. I’d just let everyday tasks take longer. There'd be a bit more pottering about, maybe a bit more shopping, but not a whole lot more organising or domestics. I’m sure I’d find other ways of taking myself away from my own four walls, but I wouldn’t end up in such a wide variety of locations, with such a spread of thought-provoking and thoughtful people.

So, thank you all for your concern. Bloggy friends always come good (apart from Victoria Beckham's phone number, but please don't feel bad about that.) If I’d written a list of things I needed to hear after my last post, you’d have covered them all perfectly. Toshak!