The Romantic Reunion

During my sleepless dream-scheming nights, in my run up to arriving in Hong Kong, I had visions of David and my romantic reunion in Hong Kong airport's arrivals.  In retrospect the vision of David arriving early in eager anticipation of meeting my flight, armed with a bouquet of flowers, was ill-conceived.  David is not known for his punctuality and the romance fled our relationship the first time we farted in front of each other.  So, true to form - I cleared immigration, picked-up my luggage and passed through customs before my husband had even made it on to the train from Hong Kong to the airport.

When he did finally arrive - I was slightly disappointed at the absence of any flowers.  However, brushing the disappointment aside, it was lovely to see David again after our two month separation.  And after my first lychee martini - the disappointment was soon forgotten!

Blubbing in Caviar House

One of my highlights of travelling by air tends to be the couple of hours spent pottering around the shops and deciding where to eat, once I've cleared security and before boarding the plane. This time round was different and I was completely overwhelmed by such a vast range of emotions that my time was mostly spent crying in Caviar House.

I could see the other customers' furtive glances, trying to work out my story. Maybe they were wondering if I was crying because I had just said goodbye to a lover or I was escaping abroad from a broken heart. Maybe they assumed I was laden with illegal drugs or fleeing from a nasty crime I didn't mean to commit. Or just maybe they had guessed I had kissed and hugged my parents and my perfect pooch goodbye, unsure of when I would be seeing them again. Or that I was reading heartfelt text messages from my friends or an emotional email from my husband who I hadn't seen for over two months. Or perhaps they knew I was upset that security had rifled through and ruthlessly unpacked my hand luggage, man-handled my teddy bear and my clean knickers, checked EVERYTHING for explosives and then left me, humiliated, to repack the entire contents while other travellers looked on in sympathy, amusement and/or fascination. Or maybe they could see it was the shock of receiving the extortionate bill at Caviar House after imbibing half a bottle of wine and a sea food platter for one.

Unlike any previous trips abroad, it was with some relief when I was finally able to board the plane, take my seat, hide away from people's prying eyes and focus on arriving in Hong Kong after months of dreaming about what it would be like.

Goodbye my furry friend

Besides the tough farewells to family and friends, today I have the horrible task of saying goodbye to my naughty little furry friend Winnie. Once more my brain has sprung into action at 3am, cruelly to remind me that today is the day I have been dreading for this very reason. Having had Winnie in our lives and by our sides, through the good times and the bad, for the past year and eight months, leaving her behind is a wrench for David and me.

Carie and I collected Winnie and Bear from Kent on a gorgeous sunny August day and I remember our excitement, tinged with guilt, as we drove them away from their mum and other brothers and sisters, to Hamble. Neither of us were fully aware of quite what we were letting ourselves in for. No one had mentioned to us about the sleep deprivation during the first couple of weeks when we had to get up regularly throughout the night to let them out to pee, to get them house trained. We didn't know that you couldn't leave them alone for two minutes without them scattering the contents of a bin around a room or shredding apart a new loo roll - like a possessed Andrex puppy. We hadn't considered that we may feel guilty when we locked up our playful puppies in their crates and left for work as they pawed relentlessly at the clanging doors, hoping to be set free to create more havoc. Yet despite our lack of mental preparation, neither of us would have changed our decision to get our Winnie and Bear.

There have been the lows - when I discovered Winnie had chewed my pink suede heels, followed by my red patent leather heels, and to my complete disgust, my Irregular Choice heels. There was the 'nest' I discovered under our bed which consisted of the shredded contents of our bathroom bin. The time when Winnie murdered a rabbit during a walk and then refused to drop it or come back to us when we called, until she had finished skinning and eating it. When we arrived to see a cousin's brand new house and Winnie chose to 'christen' the pristine carpet with a very liquid and pungent turd. And a particular low was returning home from a boat trip to discover the entire downstairs of our house carpeted with feathers after Winnie and Bear had chosen to have a tug-of-war with a cushion in our absence.

But her plus points have always far outweighed these 'minor' defects. The way she knows when I am feeling down and she will jump up on my knee and cuddle me - her way of telling me everything will turn out fine. How she paws me when she wants me to carry on stroking her or to share my food with her - and incidentally, she is the only person/ animal that I am prepared to share my food with. The way she digs in her food bowl to hint that she is starving and needs more, and how she literally howls with excitement to see me when I get home from work at the end of the day. The way she drags me to break into a trot when she is on the lead and the springy gazelle-like jumps for joy she does when I walk her through the woods. And her endless patience when she is bribed to do 'high-fives' and 'spins' to keep children entertained.

In the same way that a parent believes their children are the best - I am convinced that Winnie is the best dog ever. I love her unconditionally and I am going to miss her so much. Also I love my parents so much for offering to take on our perfect pooch while David and I live in Hong Kong. This has spared us the heartbreak of rehoming her and means we can be reunited with her when we return home. Thank you so much Marge and Rickster, and Annie, who has kindly relinquished her role as only dog daughter.

When dream scheming becomes reality

Dream scheming:  Random nights where thoughts and ideas flood your mind, and you suffer by not being able to fall asleep and turn the thing off.

The dream scheming started nine months ago when David first mentioned that he had been approached about a job selling yachts in China.  It appeared like a hand dragging us free from an ocean of routine, grind and tedium that had gradually become our working lives.  Until the opportunity was presented to us, neither of us realised how much we craved a change and were ready to grasp that hand and let it lead us into the unknown. 

For months I have woken up at around 3am with my brain whirring aggressively into action, relentlessly circulating thoughts, concerns, ideas and worries around my head - keeping sleep firmly at bay.  How could we leave the comfort of our home in the UK?  What would we do without our close-knit group of supportive, caring, naughty, fun friends?  Who would look after our dog, Winnie?  How would we deal with moving somewhere where we only knew each other?  Would we be able to learn Mandarin?  Was there an established expat community?  What would I do for a job?  Where would we live?  Would I have to pretend to be a good corporate wife in front of David's customers?  How would my hair cope with the heat?  Where would I get my highlights done?  Did they sell  fake tan in China?  

You name it, I've thought about it, dwelled on it, investigated it on my iPad and obsessed about what our new life in China could be like - at 3am.   And then David finally got offered a job in Hong Kong six months ago... and the dream scheming belligerently continued.  Would we be able to learn Cantonese?  Where did the expats live?  Would I get a job without being able to speak or write Cantonese and Mandarin?  How could we afford to become members of the Royal Hong Kong Yacht Club so I could pretend to be a good corporate wife in front of David's customers?  How frizzy would my hair go in the humidity?  Was there a Toni and Guy?  Did they sell  fake tan in Hong Kong?  

Now finally, the dream scheming is almost a reality and I still don't know the answer to half of my questions.  What I do know is that nothing could have prepared me for the reality of saying goodbye to my amazing family and  wonderful friends.  So many have revealed just how supportive and considerate they are.      There have been those that have been there in person or at the end of the phone whenever I've been tearful and tearing my hair out at the scale of what needed to be done to downsize our lives and move abroad.  Those that have sent me comforting text messages to check that I was coping after David left in January.  The ones that dropped everything to help me dismantle wardrobes, sofas and tables, that have driven me to my parents with furniture.  Those that have taken me out to dinner or invited me to the pub and plied me with wine and lobster.  The ones that looked after me and lent me a car the day I locked myself out of my house. The ones that have put a roof over Winnie's and my head after the tenants moved into our house.  The ones that have shared their sausage casseroles, polenta, chilli con carne, pasta, pork belly and scallops with me.  Those that have sent me daily emails full of  banter and have mopped up the tears when the reality of leaving eventually struck.  And everyone who made the effort to come to the pub to see me off and have written me cards with messages that I still can't read without choking up.  You know who you are...

And so the dream scheming continues and the next chapter begins.

"Friends are like stars - you don't have to see them to know they are there."