Tuesday 25 September 2001

She's ba-aack!

Aye, I'm finally back online after a long hiatus (about three months, yikes) and I have so much to say, tell, describe and generally rant over, and typically have no idea where to start. I'll try to start from the beginning and work through from there, but things will be fragmentary, to say the least - and fucking confusing at best! - so be warned, here be a plethora of parentheses, split infinitives and abused clauses.

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I guess the first thing I should tell you is that I left Australia on 31 July 2001, and am now settled in my new home in Belfast, Northern Ireland, and in a state of what can only be described as 'blssful contentment'. Life here is fecking good, mate, and I'm loving the whole living-together thing. Being with my divine Sam is heaven on earth - having someone to hang out with, all the laughter and loving, giving each other snuggles and TLC, whatever. Mmmm. 

Words fail me, really, as to how truly delicious, satisfying, captivating, thrilling, delightful Life now is - can't you tell?

So I arrived in Belfast on 01 August 2001, after a hell-flight (26 hours, you like it, eh?), and my lovelylovelylovely Sam was there to meet me as soon as I stepped into the Arrivals area. It was the most incredible experience, seeing my honey after so long the two months had seemed more like two years), being enfolded into a massive hug and knowing I was there for good, was going nowhere, that that was the end of painful teary goodbyes on the phone or at airports. 

The hilarious thing was (and no, it wasn't the sight of me staggering off a plane after 26 hours looking all scruffy and greasy and oh so not romantic) was that as we were waiting for my baggage (which had been left in London, and that was very amusing too) a rather blithe announcement came over the PA system, to the effect that due to security reasons (translation: a bomb on the premises) no one was allowed to leave the airport. This was followed in rapid succession by the arrival of a wave of RUC (Royal Ulster Constabulary) and bomb sqad types, hulking great army helicopters hovering overhead, and me choking with hysterical giggles. 

I swore Sam arranged it especially, as a truly authentic welcome to Belfast. Hee. (Turned out there was a bomb at the airport - to be accurate, forty pounds of homemade explosives under someone's car, whee.)

Anyway we were allowed to leave after a few hours - fun stuff, as Belfast International Airport makes Heathrow Terminal Four look like Paradise and was precisely not where we wanted to be at that moment in time - and got a cab back to Sam's house. I mean, our house. OUR HOUSE. I had never seen it before, of course, and to say I felt some trepidation would be a massive understatement, but it's a decent house, in good condition, with lots of possibilities, and a huge backyard area. There's a lot to do, and we will be getting into the redecorating thing eventually. Like next year? Once we've done the whole wedding thing and I have a job, anyway.

Yep, that's right, I'm currently unemployed. Visa restrictions and all, ye know. However I thought the inactivity would drive me totally clinically insane, but turns out that the time flies by in a productive manner (though I do miss Sam while he's at work - what a wuss I turned out to be!), and I am certainly enjoying the break. I think of it as more of a long-overdue Long Service Leave or sabbatical. 

Anyway its great to be back online and writing again. And I have lots to write about.

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And especially important; a big happy birthday to my daddy Ernest - huge hugs from this side of the world, here's to a great and good year ahead.

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