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And the fat lady has sung

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We arrived in the UK right behind the shock referendum in 2016.  I didn’t fully understand the vote, nor did I have a real vested interest in understanding, the vote was done, what part could I play in this? But then a snap general election was called in 2017, followed by various council by-elections and an EU election and now the biggest, and probably most historical, general election ever held in the UK. I voted in every single one, not only to be part of the oldest democracy in the world, but also because I really wanted the experience. And boy…has the experience been something we as Saffas cannot comprehend. Shortly after arriving, we registered on the electoral role, as encouraged on multiple immigration pages.   We duly received a little card telling us exactly where to vote, which came in the post and the novelty was almost too much to stand! The card clearly says you don’t need to take it with to the polling station…but it says little else.   So we dutifully g
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What's in it for the kids?

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There have been a few moments in our journey, where it’s struck me, really struck me, that the ones that have been most affected by our move abroad have been our children. Truth be told, the kids are often overlooked in the move – we’re stressed to hilt organising every tiny detail and sometimes the kids get slotted into a little file that we create and they sort of just have to go with it.   I have secretly been horrified to hear that kids arrive in this country and are in school within a week because that’s how us Saffas roll.    Parents, please go easy on them! I know that long term, the benefits are huge for kids but I think as parents, we don’t really pause and think about what this move means for our kids.   In the case of my own, I’ve seen my girls mature enormously since arriving.   Gone are the days of being driven to and from school, collected at the gate for safety reasons, driven to every play date and outing, having every detail of a get together organised an
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Riding into the sunset, and your new life

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With all the hurdles that you need to overcome when moving to the UK, (thankfully) there is no need to redo your driver’s test.   I spent a short time in Aus and it’s massively nerve-wracking to write your theory and then take your drivers test all over again. It’s an easy swap and you can find my earlier blog about it here , although that was nearly 3 years ago and I do recommend you check if the processes have changed since we arrived. Before swapping your license out, remember 3 key things: you need a valid SA license (not an expired one), you have 12 months to exchange your license, you can do the exchange immediately on arrival, provided you are not on a short-term visa. But once you have your shiny new card license in your hand, here’s the lowdown of driving in the UK, as a newly arrived Saffa: Driving in bad weather is flat out awful, so don't underestimate what it's like to drive when the weather plays up.  In 3 short years, we've slid off the ro
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What's in a (street) name?

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It’s been nearly 3 years and one thing that still tickles my funny bone is how literal the street names are in this country.   We’ve left behind the world of suburbs with a common theme such as gemstones or African trees, and come to a world where the street names are quite uninspiring but have a real story to tell you. All the regular names such as Church Street, School Lane, Park Lane and so on, all deliver what they promise.   You’ll find a church, school or park right there.   London road actually leads to London.   Even the London Road in Newcastle…if you follow it on the map (and I did this thanks to Google), it takes you along what would have been the old trade route before motorways were built.   So when the road says London, you are certainly going to end up there if you keep going. But that’s fairly simple, I’ve seen some really peculiar street names in this country and now it’s become a game to google either the meaning or the history so that I can understand what
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An Irishman, a Scotsman and a Geordie...

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No it’s not the opening line to a bad joke, this is the story of our ancestry and how we came to live in the UK.   The ancestral visa is one of the most well-known visa options available to the citizens of the Commonwealth, and many of us find (or already know) that we had a grandparent (or more!) born in the UK.   But growing up in the dry heat of the Witwatersrand, Ireland and England were just a blob on a map and it never entered my head to learn where my grandmother originally came from.   Granny as we will always remember her Even as we started to consider a move to the UK, I still didn’t think too hard about actually seeing where my Gran was born but as I started to research her birth and that of her parents, we unravelled a startling and really quite colourful story.   That is for a blog on a different day but our journey to the UK started with my belief that my Gran was actually Irish, or of Irish descent and our first efforts at research went into finding that link.  
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Penny pincher holiday (part 2) - Scotland

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How I wish I could relive this holiday    With York wrapped up, we prepared to head to Scotland for a few days of exploration.  The thing is, Scotland is massive so how do you choose where to start?  We settled this easily with the discovery of the Central Rover train pass . Three days of unlimited train and tube travel around central Scotland for a fair price sounded like a bargain.  After looking at the stations covered by the pass we realised we could see the important tourist highlights and that settled that. We also discovered that Scotland has a Heritage Explorer pass that includes entry into some of their most famous castles and sights for 5 days, but also so much more.  Buying two passes was an easy decision once we worked out that entry fees for just two of the castles we wanted to see would cost the same.  Armed with this knowledge, we headed to Scotland. What can I say about this country? It is one of the most magical and special places to visit.  It’s not
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To self-tan or not?

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During our whirlwind of farewells, my sister joked with me that I should “come back when you are paler than the milk”.   I laughed but didn’t think much of it, I mean how pale can a Saffa get really?   We haven’t spent decades indoors, that must count for something, right? I have fair skin so I’ve never been brown as a berry but I’ve also never really had anything less than a soft caramel colour on my arms and legs. During my first summer here I had a secret giggle at the earnest conversations in the office about self-tan, the recommendations, the advice, the DETAILED discussions on application.   I shook my head and just spent as much time outside as I could, I even got sunburnt that first year! *note to newbies: do not underestimate English sun - wear your sunscreen! Fast forward 3 winters and I am facing a real conundrum.   In 40+ years I have never felt the need to self-tan – sure we all feel a little pale when we enter Spring in South Africa but it doesn’t stop u
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