18 months on …

Syd Kitchen sang Africa’s not for sissies, and he was right. Emigration’s not for sissies either. Relocating to the other side of the world is probably one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made. But we’re still here and I still think we made the right decision.

So, what has this ex-pat learned after almost two years on this not-so-tropical island?

10 things I’ve learned

1. Winter is fokken cold. Get used to it. I bought clothing designed for Eskimos, a good pair of wellies, and saved up all summer to pay our winter heating bills. I’ve also learned how to program the central heating, how to ‘bleed’ the upstairs radiators, how to get the washing dry on said radiators and that you don’t need to keep eggs in the fridge.

2. Instead of getting depressed at yet another day of miserable rain, I try to remember that this is what makes the English countryside so green and beautiful and infinitely photogenic.

3. Driving in heavy snowstorms and sliding sideways through slushy roundabouts is not fun. Digging your way out of your front door and almost breaking your neck slipping on a frozen path is not fun. But you don’t have to mow the lawn when it’s under a foot of snow, building a snowman can be hilarious fun, and you haven’t LIVED till you’ve played in the snow with a Labrador.

4. Renting somewhere to live means you can move from one place to another without too much hassle. Some landlords are horrid. Our first landlord was irresponsible and a bit of a shyster. So we gave notice, found somewhere else to live, and a friend hired a truck and moved us 20 miles further north. We hit a luck – our current landlord is a sweetheart.

5. Most supermarkets engage in serious competition with each other. There are some really good specials to be had if you keep your wits about you. 3-for-2 in the fresh fruit & veg aisle isn’t always a bargain; if you don’t eat it within a couple of days, you’ll end up throwing some of it away. But you can usually pick up perishables at half price or less if you go shopping about an hour before closing time on Sunday afternoons. The day Wimbledon ended, I bought strawberries for next to nothing.

6. Online shopping is a wonderful invention. You can take your time and compare prices. Next-day delivery charges are quite reasonable, and worth every penny if it saves you having to drive in a blizzard. Whether it’s groceries, books, appliances, furniture or clothing, I’ve learned to love online shopping.

7. Charity shops have some really good stuff, and the more upmarket the village, the higher the quality of the items donated for sale. On the donating side, disposing of your unwanted but still usable things is easy; charities deliver waterproof bags through your letter box and come round a couple of days later to collect it. It’s quite heart warming to see the street lined with bags full of clothes and shoes waiting for collection.

8. Look after your pets well. Vets’ bills are exorbitant. Having said that, I don’t for a minute regret bringing our three Labradors with us from South Africa. Sadly, we lost two of them in the first year; both developed an aggressive form of cancer within three weeks of each other, and we had no choice but to let the vet put them out of their misery. Losing both of her playmates unsettled the Lab we still have, but there’s a delightful little wood not far from here where we take her for long, interesting walks, and often meet other dogs to make friends with.

9. Public transport is fantastic. Although we live out in the sticks, it’s only a 15 minute drive to the railway station where we can park in a secure car park, get the train to London, and then travel all over the city by bus or tube. An outing in London is like a little holiday.

10. Double-glazing is also pretty effective at sound-proofing your house. Close your windows and play your music as loud as you like; the neighbours won’t hear a thing. It works the other way as well. When the farmer ploughs the field behind our house or the local pub’s karaoke evening gets a bit raucous, we just close the windows to block out the noise.

Another thing I’ve learned is that the Brits generally treat a 30-mile outing as an expedition – to be planned weeks in advance. The only people who make impromptu visits are our South African friends. I’ve also learned to stock up with charcoal before the end of July, when it’s removed from supermarket shelves and doesn’t reappear until next summer, because the Brits, apparently, don’t braai in winter.

I’ve learned to pump my own petrol, check the oil and clean the windscreen, and put coins in the machine that puts air in my tyres. I’ve learned that when the train operator announces that the line is closed, to sigh in resignation, get off the train, and get on a bus which usually takes three times longer than the journey by rail.

I’ve come to terms with pitch darkness at 4pm in winter, but absolutely love broad daylight from 4.30am to 9.30pm in summer. I’ve learned that hanging washing on the line on a fine winter’s day is a waste of time, because the moisture in the clothes freezes and you can snap a pair of jeans in half.

I’ve learned that when I’m cold and miserable, to go to one of the upstairs windows at dusk, look out across the fields and see the twinkling lights of the distant village, and smile to myself because I’m lucky to live in a beautiful part of the English countryside.

Coming up to the two-year mark, I’m finally becoming acclimatised to the English weather, the way of life, the regional accents, and the perks and quirks of living here. It hasn’t been an easy two years, but it’s been interesting and sometimes a LOT of fun. Roll on the next two years!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

#emigration #expat #UK #winter