brouhaha: My posthumous advice for my daughter

brouhahadreamer:

‘Nine times out of ten, you probably aren’t having a full-on nervous breakdown – you just need a cup of tea and a biscuit’

My daughter is about to turn 13 and I’ve been smoking a lot recently, and so – in…

This is one of the most beautiful things I’ve read in a long time. brittwhyatt, you need to read this and try not to cry. X

It matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be.

Albus Dumbledore (via rensicca)

Stephen Fry: The Daily Mail and Lord Dacre appeasing again

stephen-fry-me:

DM can stand for Direct Messages in Twitter or the Daily Mail out there in the big bad world. I don’t read either, and all my friends know that I never read British newspapers of any kind.

Nonetheless there are always those that like to sympathise: today I’ve had plenty of, “Ooh you seem to have…

Quarantine

So after 30 hours on a plane next to an obese but witty man, I arrived in Sydney airport. After collecting my luggage and joining an ominous queue to get through QUARANTINE I felt myself begin to worry.

This is where they check your bags for any illegal Paracetamol you’ve smuggled into the country before throwing you in a tank of box jellyfish. Plus, it wasn’t the humidity making me sweat; I knew I didn’t have the minimum $2500 in my bank account and I was desperately hoping they didn’t check it like they did on “nothing to declare”.

What if they deported me? How humiliating would it feel to have to return home after barely arriving? I’d made this drastic move to run away from the painful part of my life, to get a bit of emotional healing… And here I was facing a procedure where they could simply turn my sorry arse around and send me back to my mundane life with about £1500 less in my bank account.
How could I have been so stupid? I really should have thought about this, saved up and planned properly.

It’s funny how your brain can be such a douche bag. My one particularly likes to display traits which can only be likened to a bipolar cat lady. I can simultaneously be overwhelmed by the thrilling prospects which lay ahead; work in the sunshine, spending time on the beach, developing a tan, surfing all day, making new friends and generally living the dream; whilst also convincing me that I had just made the biggest mistake of my life. I’d flown around the world with no plan, no clue, no qualifications to help me find work, oh and yeah, bugger all money in my pocket.

As I drew nearer to the quarantine, I was mentally going over everything in my luggage. Could I had inadvertently picked up some toxic plant without noticing? Had someone smuggled heroin in my hand luggage? Would my Valium be considered as dealers quantities?

I was at the stage of planning my excuses for the imaginary crimes I was now convinced I was guilty of when the trollish security guard took my ticket, told me to go into aisle 7 and follow it round.

Holy fuck Travis. You’re about to not only be deported, you’re going to have a black mark on your passport. You won’t be so much as allowed to cross the border into Scotland let alone return to France. How you you be so stupid as to bring a supervirus and a nuclear warhead into the country? (Bipolar cat lady, remember?)

As I followed aisle 7 round I realised it was longer than aisle 1-6. I was walking around the main quarantine sections. Obviously they were taking me to the high security section. I hope they don’t have the death penalty here. I wonder who would execute me? Although if it was Hugh Jackman, perhaps all is not completely lost…

I passed through the automatic doors and was utterly halted by the wall of heat.

It takes me a second or two to realise that I’m now outside the terminal. I’m IN Australia. They didn’t search, probe, deport or execute me. I’m on my flipping working holiday visa and this shit is actually happening!


Of course I immediately start sweating and mentally complain that the sun is just a bit too strong…

It begins.

So here I am. One and a half months into my Australian adventure and I’m finally writing in my purpose built blog.

I’d love to say its because I’m been so busy having exciting adventures and I’m now going to fill you in on the ludicrous fun I’ve been having; but no. It’s just down to laziness.

I’m going to start at the beginning, which is why the fluff I’m even here.

Any of my friends will know I resigned from the Royal Navy in August 2012 after five years of service so I could go to college. Well, I must have chosen the wrong course because after just two months I decided to quit.

In the interim I worked for a computer shop whilst I planned my next move in life.

Sadly, it was at this time that my relationship broke down. I don’t want to go into the messy details as I’m back on speaking terms with the person involved, but suffice to say, I was heartbroken.

I needed to get away from everything. I felt like my life, so stable a mere few months ago, had crashed before me. I had no idea what I was doing.

Initially I thought of France. I love the country and I’d been there enough times for it to feel like home (being from SE England meant it was a 60 minute ferry journey or a 45 minute stint on the Eurostar) but whilst my language skills were acceptable for tourism, I couldn’t expect to get a job with them.

No, I needed to go to an English speaking country.

Then I remembered! During one of the group interviews, I remember one of the recruiters talking about applying for an Australian visa and it arriving the next day. Sounds simple enough.

Plus my biological father lives there with his new family. It’d be good to meet them.

So after fighting thought the tears at work, I researched the visa in my spare time and when I got home I was paying the £200 before I’d even taken off my shoes.

This is an example of a simple action triggering a chain of events.

The visa arrived in four days and a few days later, a friend from twitter told me he worked for an airline and could get me discounted airfare. Next I find out about a thing called OzIntro, which is a week of adventurous stuff + assistance with work/bank accounts etc.

Everything happened so fast, that I found myself in Australia within three and a half weeks of applying for the visa.

Funny how when things go wrong in our lives it can lead us on to much bigger things? If I was a believer in fate…

So there we have it. (I always end these things somewhat lamely.) That’s the reason I’m here and how it came about. I’ve plenty more to add about my first six weeks, but I’ll save it for another entry.


Please feel free to leave feedback. Send messages if you want me to focus on something in particular. :)

Just a regular day in Australia

Just a regular day in Australia

Airport

Okay… All that “I’m so not bothered, it’s just a trip” has vanished & HELLO butterflies.

Albeit, I can’t really see further than the flight. Right now the most exciting thing in my life is the fact that I’m going on a long flight with a good airline. The fact that I’ve got a whole new life on the other side or that I’ll need to find a job or who knows what else will be in store for me, is not even entering my mind.

Much.

Wish me luck & be chanting that I get a free upgrade!

Love me when I least deserve it, for that is when I need it most.

Swedish proverb