All the small things…

First of all shout out to those of you who are mentally rocking out to Blink 182, what a tune? Ammiright?! 

It occurred to me this morning, when I woke for the third time at the Sunday -friendly hour of 6am, thank you jetlag,  that new places are full of relearning the smallest things. Things you forget to think about once you’ve settled. For example,  and I know I  going to sound super dumb here, using a new washing machine: they are pretty much all front loaders here (from my memory of being here last time ) and consequently I may have put some washing detergent in the air vents before getting things sorted out. But the first wash still came out seemingly clean, albeit with a sprinkling of undissolved powder on pieces. I count that a success! 

Being here means trying (and largely failing) to understand what your shipper means when they inform you your parcel is currently “consolidation scan”, good? Being here has also meant learning where the bins go and what can and cannot be recycled. It means learning the ATMS that aren’t your specific bank charge you money to withdraw cash (what?!) . It means working out the difference between lite milk and low fat milk (the first resembling semi-skimmed, the latter skimmed). It means discovering that wine can still give you a hangover,  even in another hemisphere and that tea gets cold if you forget about it whilst writing a blog post!  

And I don’t care what they say twinning’s English breakfast tea does not taste the same here… I’m going to have to convince the other half to jettison the remaining clothes he has squeezed into his suitcase around my extras, in order to bring out a supply of typhoo! 


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