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About
the Author Kate
Rouse was born in Willenhall, INTRODUCTION
It
was never intended that I write this book, at least in my mind! It was always
going to be written by my husband Tony, who for a three year period had
diligently penned Letters from America to keep our friends and relatives
amused with his observations of life in ~~~ I
could hear the slow tip-tap of the computer keyboard coming from the study. With
the one finger technique used by those not too familiar with the keyboard, Tony
was busy sending emails to friends and relatives far and wide, with the news
that we were about to live and work in what would be our fifth continent. At
least for me it would include the
working bit. He was quoting the Willie Nelson song, On the Road Again,
which was particularly apt as we were heading off for a new adventure in It was January 2000, we’d just welcomed in the New Year and we were
starting the planning for the move from down under to what was known by many as
George Bush country. Little did we know at the time just what a significant
period of
It all started in late 1999
when I was offered a new role in
Coincidentally,
I was also approached to consider a move to one of their major offices in the The time seemed right to start exploring the world again, after spending
the last eighteen years in So the decision to move to ~~~ But
first a little background. I am originally from the West Midlands area of We tried to resettle in the Life was good but the opportunity to have a new adventure living
overseas certainly had a great level of appeal and so the preparations began. CHAPTER ONE
The Move from Oz
Finding
a replacement for me in my job was relatively easy, as there was an appropriate
person within the Australian operation who had previously held the position and
was happy to move back into the role. Although I needed to continue to run the
business for a further few weeks before we departed, having an identified
successor allowed me to concentrate on the personal aspects of the move.
First priority was to sell the country property we had bought only nine
months earlier, a home with a beautiful little vineyard, dam, fruit trees, a
large collection of wild ducks, rabbits and all manner of bird life. Selling
appeared to be the only really serious option, as trying to maintain the house
and land would be difficult, or so we thought. (Reflecting on that decision a
few years later, it appears to have been a particularly bad decision; but
hindsight is always a wonderful thing!) We anticipated a difficult time selling, as the property market had been
very quiet for a long time and country properties did not seem to be top of the
agenda for most people. Listing it with the local real estate agent appeared to
be the thing to do, and as luck would have it, a previous owner expressed
interest in buying it back. A few weeks later, with very mixed emotions and lots
of tears, the contracts were signed and we were able to put a tick against one
of the major things we needed to achieve. It seemed easy! The next challenge was to move all the furniture from the vineyard up to
our family home in We needed to make our family home ready for letting and this required a
great level of energy, a methodical process and a ruthless attitude when
clearing our wardrobes, cupboards, garden sheds, roof storage, kitchen
cupboards, bookshelves, desks… and on and on the list went. Boxes and boxes
piled high with books, clothes, ornaments and an eclectic collection of other
items, were taken to the charity shops, where they were gratefully received.
Cupboards were re-organised to reflect the system invented to help identify what
was to go to the US, what was to go to storage and what would ultimately be
discarded but was needed for now – little round green stickers for US, orange
for storage, red for discarding. Time consuming and laborious, but necessary and
it worked! Meanwhile, applications for US visas were prepared and lodged in the The time was fast approaching for departure. We had successfully
organised for our elder daughter to move from the family home to an inner city
property, taking Moggy our fifteen year old cat with her; we found a lovely
family to move into our home, set the date for removalists and placed the
advertisement in the newspaper for the sale of our two cars. The market for
second-hand cars was in the doldrums as a result of the Australian
government’s planned tax changes on imported cars and we were concerned we may
not be able to find buyers for our ten year old Volvo and four year BMW. Most
people we spoke to said we’d be lucky to get one phone call, but the gods must
have been smiling on us that day, because the phone started to ring early on the
Saturday morning of the advertisement. We were not sure if the words owners
going overseas resulted in the impression of a potential bargain and led to
a level of interest generally not experienced by others, but by midday, there
was a queue of people waiting to test drive either the Volvo or the BMW. There had been a great deal of activity in preparation for selling the
cars, with much elbow grease being applied to washing, polishing and vacuuming
until both cars gleamed. But there was also trepidation around how our
temperamental Volvo would perform on the day. For as many years as I can
remember the Volvo was reluctant to start, and a variety of tricks were needed
to get the motor turning over smoothly. So what would happen now her morning of
glory had dawned – would she be cantankerous and need a lot of coaxing or
would she decide to put on her best show? With this in mind, Tony greeted the
family waiting to do the test drive out in the driveway. He learned a little of
the family’s background before they got into the car – they were of Greek
origin and the son had come along with Mama and Papa. If they liked the car, the
parents would buy it and the son would act as chauffeur, so all we needed now
was for the Volvo to perform. Tony settled Mama in the front seat making sure she had the maximum
legroom possible and then settled Papa in the back seat, pulling down the
armrest to give the final touch of luxury. What a salesman, definitely a missed
vocation! Meanwhile I stayed inside, worried that when the crunch came, the car
would not start. No matter how comfortable, at the end of the day, the car had
to work. I heard a little choking noise from the car and felt that sickening
sensation in my stomach that happens when I’m anxious, but at the second go it
started, reversed out of the driveway and off they went down the road! Next came
the BMW, with a number of couples wanting to test drive, which ultimately
resulted in competing offers. By the end of the day, both cars were sold and we
sat down with strong gin and tonics to celebrate another tick in the box! Further
progress was being made, but we still needed to collect the The formal Letter of Offer from the The emotions began to churn around now, excitement mixed with anxiety.
Would I be able to cope with the new role? What if there was no other senior
role for me after the initial assignment? How would I handle working with
Americans every day? Would Tony adjust to being a kept man as he fondly referred
to himself? The questions were endless, but the one that always brought back
some sanity was “What is the worst thing that can happen?” – we could come back to With this in mind, the bags were packed, the house organised and the
taxi was waiting outside. Tears and hugs with our elder daughter and floods of
emotions in the car to the airport, but we were finally on our way to the Click on the cart below to purchase this book:
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