Paulkyville

Another day, another procedure. Yesterday it was the turn of the radiologists to get their hands on me. So off to a posh location in central London for my X-Ray. As always seems to be the case, there was more form filling to be done, but little waiting this time ans I was rushed straight in to a darkened room by a matter-of-fact-old-school type nurse who stood me in front of something that looked like it had just been in the latest Star trek movie, told me to take my shirt off and stick my chin on the little rest. She then positioned my hands on my hips (I thought I was about to do The Time Warp ) and then retreated behind her lead-lined screen. A few seconds later, my upper body bombarded by radiation, she goes off to check the X-Ray is clear, before coming back and telling me it's all over. I went to sign the form and then she handed my my passport with a big smile. Except it wasn't my passport. Ah. So off she goes to find mine (suddenly my mind starts coming up with all ...

Yesterday was the day of the medical. Not one of my favourite things to do, but it had to be done, so off I went to a little place in London to probed and prodded! The AHC give you a list of approved doctor's, so you can't just roll up to your GP and ask for an MOT. No, you have to spend £160 to get a stranger who has no idea of your medical history to ask you a few questions during a 30 minute exam, on which the rest of your life depends. Hmm . So first they give me a little jar in a plastic bag, and I know what's coming next. Now, on the few occasions I've had to do this, I'm always in a quandary as to how much is enough; do you fill the whole thing, or just a little? Unlike previously, when the container has been very small and you have to be very precise with your aim, this was quite a generous sized receptacle and so my dilemma was increased. Just how much do they want? So I retreat to the little boy's room (though in this case it's the little girl...

Just a quick note to wish my Dad a Happy Father's Day, wherever he may be now. Miss you.

We are pursuing a bit of the old Blitz spirit here at Paulkyville . As we will (hopefully) be moving to Oz next year, we decided to try and put up with what we have rather than replace things, such as TVs , white goods etc. Apart from the different voltage in Australia compared to the UK, things such as TVs tend to be cheaper as they are closer to the source (i.e, the Far East) of manufacture. Of course, having decided this, fate bowls a googly. First our kettle dies, so we buy a cheap replacement. This tends to make a suspicious buzzing noise when it's not in action, so we now make a point of switching it off at the mains when not needed, less the house burn down. Then our colour printer ran out of ink. Well, no problem there, buy an ink cartridge ! So off I trot to WH Smith and buy a black and colour cartridge, which cost £61! It was only when I get home that I realise you can actually buy a completely new printer for that. So I take the cartridge back and we buy a new pri...

So I've had time to digest what's required of me, and I have to make a (very expensive, I suspect) appointment with a doctor recommended by the Australian High Commission. This involves blood tests, X-Rays and other medical probings. Oh how I look forward to that. (That's sarcasm, by the way.) I also have to have Police checks carried out to make sure I am not some hardened criminal (which, as someone pointed out, used to be the only way to get in to Australia!). This costs me £35. And finally I have to provide further evidence that Mrs Paulky and I are a bona fide couple; this one enables me to skip the Temporary Residence visa and skip straight to Permanent, so it's worth doing. Just now have to gather together suitable evidence, which makes my decision to have a clear out last month of all old documents suddenly seem unwise... One good thing that all this clarifies is that, assuming I get the visa, I have to make a trip to Australia before the medical and p...

Well, strike what I said yesterday about my application being put into a big pile! Today I get an email for the Australian High Commission asking me to go for a radiological exam and a medical and to have my police checks done withing the next 28 days. I thought I might have to wait a couple of months for the request, so was a bit surprised by this. I also have to provide a bit more info on what Mrs P and I have been up to for the last five years. Still, a step in the right direction and a lot quicker than I had hoped! Will keep you posted!

According to the Royal Mail, my application has been signed for at Australia House. Even now, someone has carefully placed it in a huge in tray along with several thousand others.

There are all manner of reasons for leaving the UK and going to live in Australia. I've already mentioned the weather, the living conditions, the people. But, for me at least, there's another, far more trivial reason. And that is the Cherry Ripe. Manufacture by Cadbury's in Australia but bizarrely not available in the UK, it is a dark chocolate coated, coconut enshrined piece of cherry goodness. Quite by far the best chocolate bar I've ever had, and I consider myself a connoisseur. If you've never had one, believe me it's worth trading continents for. Yes, it's high in everything that's bad for you and I expect I'll put on a couple of stone once subjected to one every day, but I'll exercise. Or something. They say the devil is in the details and this is one of my details. Of course I'm looking forward to everything else Australia can offer me, but this is the icing on the cake.

Finally , after more than three months of planning and eight months since I stood on that beach, my application for permanent residency in Australia has been sent. Someone asked me recently if I was excited and the answer is no; my fate is now in the hands of others and I can't get excited until I get the official notification that they have granted my visa. Until then there will be much fretting! I still have medical checks and police checks to undertake and I may still be called for an interview. And there's always the possibility that I've missed something or done something wrong on the form an it all gets sent back. So keep your fingers, toes and any other appendages you may posses crossed for me please!

Do people who design official questionnaires really think about the questions they ask? I'm going through the Spousal Visa application form and there's a question on there which says something to the effect of "Did you marry just to gain entry to Australia?". Now think about it. If I answer the question YES, what do you think my chances of actually getting in will be? Now in my case the answer is an unequivocal NO, and as I've been married to Mrs Paulky 16 years on Friday, I think I can prove it. Unless of course this is all part of some secret master-plane I have been hatching for a decade and a half. It's right up there with the questions they used to (still do?) ask when you arrived in the US, the classic one being "Are you a terrorist?". I know an intelligent terrorist is an oxymoron, but I think even they could grasp the answer to that one.

Look at that. Beautiful, isn't it? It was whilst I was standing on this beach that I realised there was more to life than Southeastern Trains, ignorant English and depressing, gloomy weather. So I made the decision that this was the place I could spend the rest of my life; a place blessed with 360 days of sunshine, wonderful white sand beaches, friendly locals and it was CLEAN! I know what you're thinking; get in the queue!

I have no idea why I'm doing this. I have always been a bit ambivalent regarding blogs; unless I was President of the USA, a serial killer or Britney Spears, I just don't think my life is that interesting. And yet... I am beginning the process of leaving the UK after my first four decades to go an live in Australia. It occurred to me that this might actually be something worth writing about. I have no doubt that there will be other random, useless thoughts along the way, but for now, this is it. On Friday I submit my application. Wish me luck!