Family planning
February is usually a miserable month during which I ask myself, at least once a day, what exactly I think I'm doing living in England.
By March, I've forgotten what my flat looks like in midweek daylight and I've had it up to here with cosy sofa suppers. Valentines day makes a valiant attempt to inject some light into mid Feb but, after elbowing my way past crowds of Kronenburgs (you know, those women in leather miniskirts who look 16 from behind and 64 from the front) and panic buying an enormous Clintons bear, it always feels a bit like New Years Eve - the pressures on and it's inevitably a bit 'meh.'
Plus who wants a giant bear in a teeny London flat?
But before I drown in a vat of my own cynicism and wander off into the sunset muttering about the commercialisation of Feb 14th, I'll just come out and say it. I cannot wait until this February.
Why, I hear you cry. (If you havent already rated this blog a zero and logged off in disgust or are a Clintons employee).
I'm off to New Zealand to visit my boyfriend's family.
Positives to this statement- sunshine is a good few months closer than it would be otherwise, even if it takes two days and the cost of a small mortgage to reach it.
Negatives to this statement - it will be the first time I've met them and stepping off a plane after 30 hours wearing a hideous tracksuit and the imprint of a seat mark on the side of my face wasn't exactly the 'meet the parents' outfit I had in mind.
Why are we always so desperate to impress? Shouldn't the fact that we have lured in their precious offspring be enough? Or maybe that's the problem. The NZ crew may well already loathe me - I'm a factor in their son's choice to live on the other side of the world - and what could be worse than that for a close family? (Don't worry, I'm under no illusion it's only me, he has a great job too- although I did say to him once - 'sometimes I really wonder, is it me or is it Honda?)
My parents have already laid the 'don't move to New Zealand one day' groundwork..."Darling, obviously you must do what makes you happy, but...."
This has been a whole new experience for me - the art of a long distance relationship with people you haven't met yet.
They don't know much about me, I don't know much about them, though skype has been offering a helping hand in that department.
I don't feel someone truly knows me until they have met my family and seen what a key part of my life they all are. Thus, I don't truly know the person I live with. But come February, I will.
The weird thing is, I care about these people. I've built some sort of relationship with them that transcends the need to be in the same room and know what they do on weekends.
People I've never met are a part of my life. How do I greet these familiar strangers at the airport?
We went Christmas shopping at the weekend and I shouted down a tartan handbag - saying 'it just wasn't right.' Wasn't right? How the hell would I know? Skype means I've never seen the Lewis family from the waist down. I've never spoken to them without a time delay.
Moving abroad throws up issues you just don't think about. Obviously, for most people, the main thing they miss about home is family and friends.
But what happens when you're on the other end of the coin and feel like you are missing out on people you don't even know? I guess there is always a massive compromise to be made when one of you is from another country. I just didn't think I would be the one feeling compromised when I'm still at home.