A New Life, Day One

It's a new dawn

It's a new day

It's a new life

And I'm feeling good

Years of planning, literally years of planning have gone into this moment. It still does not seem real sitting in a flat in Pacific Heights, San Francisco. I've left friends and family, truly beloved friends and beloved family. Not only that but my devoted cat remains in that green and pleasant land while I try something new. After deliberation, planning, negotiation, excitement, tough and sometimes heart wrenching decisions, The Missus and I have moved to California. What the bloody hell are we doing?

Let's leave aside being one rather large continent and a not inconsiderable sized ocean away from all those people that I love, has anyone seen the terrible selection of crisp flavours the United States of America has to offer. I'll accept it's better than the poor and rank (call themselves gastronomes) attempts vomited up by France but where's the cheese and onion, salt and vinegar or worcestershire sauce? God help me, but has anyone here heard of Monster Munch? There's not even a Hula Hoop nor a Scampi Fry to rub together.

Yet here I sit starting a new life in California and as Nina Simone sang, "I'm feeling good". This feeling is, without doubt bolstered by the warm sunshine gently stroking my pasty English skin. It's been such a long time since I saw The Sun I had to google "What is that big yellow thing in the sky?", swiftly followed by, "Why is the sky blue?" and "Is this the nuclear winter?". Joking aside, I had braced myself for rain and English drizzle which, I insisted, would be a good thing because it would ease the transition and allow for a gradual acclimatisation. As luck would have it the ten day forecast changed on arrival from rain and cloud to partly cloudy in the morning and sunny in the afternoon with top temperatures of 67 that's 20c in real money.

The Missus and I have moved into a charming and very San Franciscan "Victorian". An old Victorian building in Pacific Heights, one of the most desirable neighbourhoods in the city and, it would seem, the hilliest. I wish I'd packed my crampons because at times, the road is so steep, my nose touches the concrete. This is not a complaint, we both decided if we were going to up sticks we were going to through ourselves into San Francisco hook, line and sinker. So as I sit here, on the porch, watching the world go by, life is not bad, not bad at all. 

Home for the next four weeks, the brown Victorian

There are so many things to do that right now, there is no time to be homesick. Seeing as this is day one, homesickness would be daft. I am sure there will be plenty of times where the thought that this is not a holiday hits home and that parents, friends and family are no longer a quick journey away. However with the wonder of the interworldwidecyberweb staying in touch has never been easier. If Bob Hoskins was still doing his BT adverts he'd say "It's good to talk [on Skype]", "It's good to type".

Living in a flat (I am resolutely refusing to use that word beginning with 'apart..') over one and half times the size of my London house certainly helps with the feeling of having made the right decision but The Missus very cleverly sweet talked her UK office to fast ship two boxes filled with niceties from home, while most of our property slowly chugs its way across the Atlantic, through the Panama Canal and up the West Coast. Her ingenious forward planning meant that as we arrived, so did two large boxes holding our towels, cookbooks, duvet, Ipod dock, some other homely swag but most heartwarming of all Duck and Sam. Duck and Sam, The Missus' and my stuffed toys from when we were nippers, came with us at the first opportunity. OK we're both in our thirties but I can't tell you how much of a smile it put on both of our faces to unpack these two. Compared to the boat, this was their first class travel experience. I am not ashamed of course to admit this, but neither am I brave enough to have put them in my hand luggage. The thought of having either inspected in public at security would not be something I'd readily endure. So they now sit guarding our bedroom and both thoroughly approving of their new surroundings.

Now they're what I call parcels

Well from here on in, this blog will I suppose take the tone of an Englishman in San Francisco and being here I will become, I am sure, more English than anyone can possibly imagine. I have already perfected by best Hugh Grantesque fumbling and muttering. 

Aside from Englishing it up, I am on a quest to find Marmite, my local PG Tips supply is already secured. I have joined a gym and I have started putting feelers out to find a permanent home. There is so much to do in the next three months whilst I wait for a my work permit. Aside from finding a place to live, buy a car and of course work out what I want to do while I am here, then chase that dream. For now though I leave you. Getting here was easier than any Steinbeck novel but making it work could require just as much hard work. Therein lies the adventure. 

I am off to get stuck into the city of hills and dogs, of which there are oh so many. Oh, and like a true Brit, it's Friday night and the pub is calling.

Duck and Sam adapting to their new lives