All Things Christmas - Part 1

Those of you that know me well, know that I love, love, LOVE Christmas and everything to do with it. In particular, the shopping! For the longest time, I have wanted to visit a traditional German Christmas market and last weekend, P and I did just that.

We flew into Munich and met up with our friends New Mum and New Dad. They left their little one with her parents who live just an hour away.

The city has several Christmas markets dotted around, each one with its own theme. My favourite was of course the main market in the Town Square:

This is the biggest advent calendar I have ever seen, so pretty right?


There was also a medival market, which I at first thought was a market for middle-aged people (middle ages) ha ha. Sometimes, even when you have known someone for over 10 years, things DO get lost in translation!

I set myself a budget and stuck to it, but still managed to buy quite a few lovely items for the tree. My most extravagent buy was a hand-painted glass decoration with a winter scene. It has pride of place on my living room shelf:

Besides beer and handmade Christmas decorations, another thing the Germans do well is food. We ate lots and I now bear a slight resemblance to a pork knuckle (big and brown):


Some guys who didn't look like pork knuckles were the storm drain surfers. On the edge of the Englischer Gartens is a huge drain where water gushes out, permanently creating a surf. There is a group of surfers who 'ride the waves' in the middle of the city, even in temperatures close to zero. We spent almost an hour just watching them jump, turn and fall into the freezing waters. They were absolutely amazing.



It was a super weekend where we drank a little, ate too much, laughed even more and had a fantastic time with good friends.

P and I got home and I couldn't help but put the Christmas tree and decorations up in our own house even though I was so exhausted. I love my new handmade patchwork tree skirt, which I bought online (of course!):


I managed to find another great seller online who made the reindeer garland and door hanger:



The pine table wreath is from our local florists:

I didn't decorate the upstairs area much. A friend made this huge stocking for me years ago and I've hung it over the master bedroom door. P thinks it's wishful thinking that it will be filled ha ha but dreaming is for free right?

The garland in Cath Kidston's 'Lapland' fabric hangs across the guest room window:



In just a couple of weeks, our friends will arrive from the Land of the Free and the Small Island respectively. I just cannot wait to see them. I'm sure we'll eat and drink too much, but that is what the festive season is all about!

Our Cosy Corridor

Just to reassure you guys that not ALL is bad in Brringland, here are some photos to show you how nicely our house is coming along.

BEFORE - Standing at the door of the guest room, this is how our upstairs corridor looked:


NOW - This photo was taken from the master bedroom looking into the guest room:


I love our new Laura Ashley gold and ivory 'Malmaison' runner. On the left wall is a white metal heart-shaped tea light holder.

The 1905 Cecil Aldin's vintage prints hanging on the right wall are from "A Dog Day" featuring a naughty little Jack Russell. Going from left to right, the titles are: Treats from the Table, Sick in Aunt Brown's Room and Fighting the Rug. I bought all three including the white frames for about $70. Not bad.

The living room is being 'cosified' at the moment and once it is completed, I will post some photos.

The End of Summer

Actually, a more appropriate title would be: The End of Summer, What Summer?!

This past weekend, the clocks went back an hour, signalling the start of grayer days and even darker nights. To be fair, we didn't have much of a summer in yucky old Brrringland anyways. But at least the days were long and I always had my vodka cranberries to cheer me up after yet another day of working with the small town locals (or should that be yokels) that I have to see in the office everyday!

Yesterday, it suddenly got very cold and even snowed in some parts of the country. It is now freezing when I get up at 6am to take Winnie out for her ablutions. I have to bundle up in a down jacket and my breath is frosty when I exhale. On our way to the train station, we see our neighbours busily scrapping ice off their windscreens.

In the mornings, sitting on the loo and showering in our house involves a lot of yowling (at least from me) as bare skin touches freezing plastic and the hot water is switched off. This leads to a 5 - 10 second gap when wet skin is exposed to cold air before I can grab the towel off the rail. Can I just say that this body was built for fun in the sun and not this cr*ppy cold?! I am just not "insulated" like the local yokels to endure these artic conditions.

At work, I sit next to floor-to-glass windows. It can be -2 outside, but when the sun shines, it feels like a greenhouse. I therefore have to dress for winter in the early mornings and evenings, and for Small Island weather in between. Ridiculous.

As you can tell, nothing has changed since my last few blog entries. I still detest this place and most of the people who inhabit it. My boss has even now banned me from saying, "On our Small Island, we do it like this and it is insert: more efficient / better / faster / cheaper / tastier." Even the Yanks at the office make fun of me. For example, if I give one of them something and say, "Use this, it's better quality", they will reply, "What, was it made on the Small Island?" Ha ha, I think.

I don't know if I will ever feel settled here. It is mainly because I see all the things that are wrong that would be simple enough to fix, but the people who can change things, won't for whatever reason. I know that it is my choice to live here, but I hope that my standards never drop so low that I will roll over and accept what I see as incompetent or plain wrong.

Let's say a burglar comes into your house, and robs and attacks you. If in self-defence, you end up hurting him, YOU will be prosecuted by the police/courts! The victim is made to pay while the criminal gets away scot-free. It is totally illogical but epitomizes the mentality of this country. I just don't get it.

I have also turned into a frumpy working housewife after living here for the past eight months. On the Small Island, I used to spend my evenings with good friends, drinking in trendy bars by the river, clothed in sexy numbers and high heels. Now, I have taken up cross-stitching after a hiatus of over 10 years to pass the long and pitch black evenings. The difference between 1995 and now is that I need my reading glasses these days to see the small squares. Note to Stepmum: I will let you know when I have to upgrade to a higher strength pair of reading glasses. Might be sooner rather than later.

I have to find solace somehow or I would go crazier than I already am. Going out for dim sum lunches with friends I have met here is always fun. We are all in the same situation and can enjoy a good moan together. At the end of November, P and I are taking a weekend trip to visit a Christmas market with our friends, New Mum and New Dad.

I am also 'nesting' (no, not in the 'I want to have a child way' (God forbid) but in a 'I am bleeping cold' kind of way). I have been doing up the house as cosily as I can. We have invested in a few new Laura Ashley rugs (on sale, even better!), which had added some much-needed warmth to our previously bare floorboards. You need a comfortable home here because you tend so spend so much time in it. Eating out is so expensive and the lousy weather doesn't lend itself to the al fresco lifestyle.

With the onset of winter on us, there are only dreary months and moaning blog entries in the foreseeable future. Is it summer yet?!

Old is New Again Part 2

In spite of the fact that I have been busy with work, holidays and visitors, I have still managed to find time to do some shopping for the house. Spoken like a true-blue Small Island girl!

I have continued my quest to furnish this house in understated Shabby Chic and our dining room is more less now complete.


The vintage embroidered linen tablecloth is from the good old US of A. The cushions are second hand and matched in pairs, each set slightly different but with a similar floral colourway. The clock and green mirror are new but deliberately finished to look aged. Everything was purchased online (but of course!).

The guest room has also had a little makeover, with a vintage-inspired Toile de Jouy blue and white bedspread. I also love the fully-working vintage alarm clock on the lowest shelf. Unfortunately, I can't wind it up as it ticks very loudly and I am sure would keep our guests awake. The important thing is that it looks good though!


I wish I could Shabby Chicify Winnie's crate bed, but somehow, I think faded florals and lacy trim would be lost on her, no?

France: Good, and a little Bad and Ugly

This week, P and I went on our first flight together. We have said hello and goodbye many times at various airports during our long-distance year, but we've never been on a plane together before. We decided to head to the South of France for this momentous occasion to explore the region and to visit our wedding MC, Olive.

We used Marseille as our base as it is easy to fly into and out of from Blundon. I found a great little self-catering loft studio run by a glamourous older French lady. She has turned her property on the outskirts of the city into a profitabe business. Her own home (fabulously French shabby chic, filled with beautiful antiques that made me drool, drool, drool) sits alongside a suite, double bedroom and the studio. The grounds are full of mature trees and a swimming pool. However, it was very cold, so we didn't brave the chilly water!

Although it was a lovely little self-contained flat, we were very tired of climbing down the ladder every time we needed to use the loo in the middle of the night! Let's just say the novelty wore off very quickly.

The studio where we stayed:

Marseille:

P rented a kick-a** Chrysler with sat nav that served us very well. At the beginning of the week, we drove all the way to Monte Carlo in Monaco. Having never been there before, I was blown away by the jaw-dropping sight that greets you as you drive in to the city. Huge, ostentatious buildings perch on the mountainside, falling away dramatically into marinas with multi-million dollar yachts. The very air of Monte Carlo stinks of money.


The women were stylish in white linen, gold jwelery and designer handbags. We were definitely out of place in our faded jeans and cut off shorts, by hey, someone's got to provide the contrast!

On the way back from Monte Carlo, we drove through Nice (shabby without the chic, we didn't bother to stop) and Cannes (not to sound jaded, but just another seaside town).

The next day, we drove to Aix En Provence. The morning flea markets were a delight with vendors selling everything from fur coats to vintage bedding to soaps (the specialty of the region). After lunch, we drove to Uzes, where Olive lives.

Olive has visited us several times in Blundon, where she still has a house a couple of miles from where we live. She also came to our wedding on the Small Island last November. However, this time we were on her turf. It was another jaw-dropping experience when we walked into her 400-year-old house in the town centre. P and I looked at each other and it was like, "Wow!" Set over five floors, her house consists of a cellar, huge living and dining area, quaint walled garden, three bedrooms, several bathrooms, numerous little nooks and crannies and a storage loft on the top floor. We could fit our house in Blundon in it three to four times over! Definitely impressive.

That evening, Olive took us for a delicious three-course meal at one of her regular restaurants. A bottle of local wine accompanied our squid salad (tender and flavoursome), pate (ditto), grilled fish and duck with coffee sauce. My dessert was a smooth creme brulee and P didn't even get a look in!

When we woke up the following day, Olive took us on a whistle-stop tour of the shops (she didn't let me buy anything, not even this adorable enamel ashtray that I really wanted!), the cathedral and the Vichy's house. When I say house, I mean villa. The views overlooking the town remind me of sun-bleached rooftops you see on travel shows.


One of the things I wanted to buy was a nice painting of the area. However, P and I didn't see anything that we liked. Most of it was garish tat for the undiscerning tourist ie, not me! When we were at Olive's house, I saw a painting that one of her friends had done. It was exactly in the style that I wanted, so Olive took us to her studio to see what other paintings she had.

The artist showed us a selection of her watercolour originals and I picked two different but complementary pieces showing the cobblestone streets of Uzes. Olive tried to discourage me from buying both of them (to the silent horror of the artist I'm sure, who was too polite to say anything at the time!), but I had to have them both. One is a more detailed work where the artist experimented with a pencil technique. The other is a simpler and crisper watercolour. Quite different styles but hung one on top of the other, they look perfect together.


Olive is one of my poshest and most cultured friends and she wanted to take us to Pont du Gard, the most visited site in the region. Having not ever done any Roman history, I didn't even know what an aquaduct was. I was reluctant to go as I would have preferred to continue shopping (it's true what they say, you can't take the materialism out of the Small Island girl) but Olive insisted. Now when a striking six-foot tall muscle-bound 'Grace Jones' insists you do something, then you do it if you know what's good for you!

I am so glad that we went to the Pont du Gard as it was my third jaw-dropping moment of the trip. The 2,000 year old monument is huge and the sheer scale of it takes your breath away. Set against vibrant blue skies at one end, and an inviting river at the other, it defies any description that would do it justice.


As we sat having a juice soaking in the ancient and mind-blowing atmosphere, I told Olive, "You were right and I was wrong, this place is amazing!" Gracious person though she is, Olive did allow herself a smug little smile.

Although most of our week in France was wonderful, like any country, there are also aspects of it which are rather unpleasant.

1. The majority of the Southerners we met were friendly and helpful, in spite of my refusal to even say hello or thank you in French ha ha. However, there was one miserable old geezer to wouldn't take a photo of us in Aix. I don't understand that at all. I come to your country and spend my hard-earned money, and you can't even take 15 seconds out of your day to press a button? He's too ignorant to realize that without tourism, the entire region would not be able to feed itself, and that includes him.

2. The complete lack of public toilets. We had to hunt high and low for them and if you can find one, you have to pay between 0.20 - 0.50 Euro to use them. There was one day where I was so desperate that I went in a public carpark. If you can't provide me with a working toilet, then I'll just have to make one myself! No regrets though, better on the tarmac than on the car seat!

3. The horrendous traffic system and driving. There were many days where P and I were stuck in traffic in the city centre, even if it wasn't rush hour. The streets are narrow and virtually every car has a ding or 10. When a tunnel is shut, there is no signage. Just terrible gridlock where the police stand around and chat while frustrated drivers blare their horns. The French obviously do not have the word 'indicator' in their language and if they do, then they certainly don't know what it means or how to use it.

Would I visit the region again? Yes, if only to see Olive. P and I both agreed that we would skip the coast and drive straight inland next time. I am really glad we went as we have needed the break. And it's always good to visit a place that you have never been before. However, I am very happy to be back in my own home, where I can have rice and stir-fry instead of another bl**dy baguette!

A Woman Needs Her Friends

This has been a particular tough week for me. I have been in this country for almost six months and I realize that I don't like it any more than when I first arrived in mid-March. Besides the inefficiency and bad weather, I also miss my friends like crazy. I have met some nice people through the Small Island social group here, but we all live very far from each other and I don't have the history with them as I do with you guys, friends that I've known for quite some time.

Although the work I do in my job is pretty interesting, my colleagues are not. Unfortunately, most of the others are small town girls who have never lived abroad. They have no idea of what life is like outside of Brrringland. They may have travelled, but then spent their time sheltered in a resort so they have no concept of how other nationalities live. I have nothing in common with them except possibly a love of shopping and champagne, but how much can you talk about that?

On Friday night, our wedding MC came over for dinner with her friend. It was particularly wondertul to see her. She totally understood when I told her that I've noticed that the Ang Mo Brrrringlish (AMB) people prefer to sit on the train with other AMBs. When I first mentioned it to P a few weeks ago, he thought it was my imagination. However, he saw this for himself when he went into work on the train with me one day (normally he cycles to the office). We sat on a long bench for five people and it faces another long bench. On the opposite side were four big AMBs. On our side was a small Indian guy about my size, an empty seat, me, P and another person. At one of the stations, a very tall, well-built AMB entered the carriage. He looked at both benches and predictably, squeezed his very big self into the small space with the other AMBs. I said to P, "See what I mean?!!"

It's sad as people can be so small-minded. The bad thing is that I have to live amongst them and look at their sour faces all day long!

Yesterday, my friend of 11 years, the New Dad came to stay with us with his partner, the New Mum (I've known her for 10 years). I met both of them when they worked on our Small Island all those years ago. I introduced them in 1998 and they have been together ever since. 17 months ago, they had a lovely baby boy. Although the house was noisy and chaotically overrun with baby clothes and paraphernalia, having the three of them around was a balm to my jaded soul. They are very down-to-earth (as my friends need to be), sincere, open and intelligent people. Their baby was happy, easy to be around and kept himself entertained by running around the table and trying on P's shoes!

Today, we all took the train to see another friend, China W's Wife (CWW), whom we've also known for 10 years. She too worked on our the Small Island at the same embassy as the New Mum. CWW and her husband have two beautiful little Eurasian girls. After lunch, we sat in their living room where the three kids played together. I looked at all of them and it was almost surreal to see how life has moved on since we all first met, but in a positive way. They are all parents now (very good ones) and I am married with dog.

I have to say I feel very proud to call these wonderful people my friends. They have shown me real love and understanding over the years. Seeing them as well as the MC drove home one thing to me: that I may not like this country (that is an understatement ha ha), but I can certainly make the best of it. I can try to rise above the detritis and spend as much time as possible with my friends who live in this part of the world. After all, who knows what life will bring next? We don't know how long we will be staying here as my heart does belong to the Small Island.

As the new week begins, I have much more to look forward to. My young cousin arrives on Tuesday on a working holiday visa and will stay with us for a few weeks while she finds her way around the city. Then in a couple of weeks, P and I fly off to France where we will see the MC. So roll on September!

Old is New Again

Most of you who really know me, also know that I go through phases where I am focused on one thing, and one thing only. For example, I went through my lotus stage, where everything I bought had to have a lotus on it. I scoured the internet and streets for all things lotus. Then one day, I woke up and realized that the house looked like a lotus museum. All of a sudden, I didn't like lotuses anymore.

I also have been through other phases: belly dancing (I had matching outfits in various designs consisting of floaty skirts to transparent scarves), fighting fish (I had a fish in just about every colour and tanks both at home and at the office), silk camisoles (P counted that I had almost 20 very similar ones), cashmere turtlenecks (ditto), etc. You get the picture.

The current 'thing' that I have recently discovered is Shabby Chic. This is a style of furnishing that where old items are cherished and new items are deliberated aged. The main components of Shabby Chic are white painted wooden furniture, muted floral prints and stripes in creams, pale pinks, faded greens and blues. Hearts are also big in Shabby Chic.

We are living in a perfect canvas for this decorative style: a Victorian cottage built in 1885. I have had to remind myself over and over not to overdo it, so I've bought pieces bit by bit. Our bedroom is the first room that has been completed and here is the finished result. You have seen the quilted bedspread that we got from the flower show last month, but I've added more to the room since then. There are white metal hearts hanging on the walls that hold tea lights and a hand-knitted wool blanket at the foot of the bed. The checked cushion on the floor is Winnie's bed:




I have used an old stuffed dog as a door stop, which I bought in 1995. Being old and worn, it fits in perfectly with the Shabby Chic theme. I am very pleased with the result and think I have created a nice, restful room without going overboard on the florals and frills. Even though P is a manly man, he thinks that it is fantastic and all goes very well together. I am sure he is not just saying that to please me. ;-)

I'm also happy that Shabby Chic items are very reasonably priced. I have bought everything online very cheaply and have just picked up a vintage 1940s French bedside alarm clock in full working order for less than $40.

I am working on the guest room next and will put up photos in the upcoming weeks once it is done.

The Sorry State of this Nation

One thing I've noticed in the four months I've been here is that work is mostly a foreign concept. I mean that literally and figuratively. It permeates through the entire society. Besides colleagues whom I've seen pass the buck time and time again, and the scrounging unwed teenage mothers, the public transport here is also one big mess.

Consider today. We wanted to visit one of the markets in Central Blundon. When we got to the station, the normal four trains an hour was reduced to two. Two minutes after P bought his travelcard, they cancelled the next two trains so we would have had to wait for an hour. Needless to say, I was not amused. I pay £1,800 a year for my season ticket to get to work. This allows me to ride on trains, the tube and buses, but what is the point of that if services are so reduced?! Honestly, we should get our Small Island government to come over here and show these lazy sods how it's done.

It also bugs me when I see young men living rough and begging on the street. Most of them would be capable of work if they were not drug or alcohol addicts. If it wasn't going to get me beat up, I would give them a good telling off. I wake up at 5.45am every morning to walk the dog, prepare lunch for us (because it's so bloody expensive to eat out) and get ready to go to work so that scums like that can take over 30% of my salary every month. Bitter, who me?

I know that there are good and bad things in every country and this place is no exception. But sometimes, the laziness and inefficiency of the people really bothers me. When I had my two-month performance review with my boss last month, she actually told me that I was working at a very high level and that I should take it down a couple of notches. I have never had an appraisal where I was told to slow down before. My boss is also from the same part of the world as I am and understands my frustrations with the way they 'work' here. I know that she doesn't want me to feel held back by the way they do things in this country. Too late!

On the positive side, I guess it's good for them that they have people like me to set an example. A foreigner that to comes to their country, works hard, and supports the useless lower strata of their society. I can only take comfort in the fact that it is character building and all that stress does keep me slim!

Love x Hate

Having now been in Brringland for four months, I can honestly say that while I've tried to immerse myself in the local lifestyle, the initial excitement at being in a new country and getting a fab job with a famous bank is wearing a bit thin.

While I still get the occasional sense of 'Am I Really Here?', I have very quickly come to realize that there are a lot of inefficient and lazy people who do not take accountability for their own behaviour and actions.

At work, everything takes ages to complete. We recently hired a student intern from my Small Island and it took two months to get his contract sorted out. As you all know, I went through a similar experience with own hiring process in getting my credit and reference checks done. If it wasn't so politically incorrect, I would tell them in Singlish, "You think I'm like your country people ah?! I'm a law-abiding and hardworking citizen from the Small Island okay! Don't play play!"

The daily news is also very depressing, with knife crime and inflation both on the rise. Sometimes I don't even bother with it all. This country makes things hard for people like me, but easy for those who are undeserving, like those who can work but who milk the welfare system for all that their scummy little bodies are worth.

I have felt some frustration at the incompetence of the people here, but I know that I shouldn't dwell on that too much as there are also some wonderful things about this place.

On Saturday, P and I went to a flower show with our new friends. It was amazing and we walked around the various marquees that showcased some beautiful gardens. I took over 60 photos but have just selected three of my favourites.

This concept is of a mirrored garden, which looks like an endless forest:


How Brringlish is this? I love the cottage and the beautiful vegetable patch.

And imagine if this was in your backyard. I definitely wouldn't say no to it!

I got into the spirit of things by wearing my vintage Burberry mac (and also because it was a typically drizzly afternoon), eating fish and chips and drinking a refreshing Pimms. I was definitely cheered by the fact that P bought me a pair of wellies (blue with pink roses) for walking the dog in winter and a gorgeous shabby chic patchwork bedspread.

I guess at the lesson of the story is that although this country has a lot of faults, what REALLY helps me is retail therapy. All kidding aside, I do miss my friends, family and food back on our Small Island. Still, I have to be careful that I don't become one of the locals and turn into a whinging p*m! Or is it too late already?!