Desperate Times

Little penguins on Philip Island

With no work in sight we had to face some harsh realities.  Paul could get financial help from the state but I wasn’t entitled to anything (not surprisingly as I haven’t paid into the system) but neither could Paul claim for supporting me so the help Paul could get would not even meet the rent payments, never mind food and bills. Things were beginning to look a bit bleak.

Then we received our first electricity bill which was almost $300 for a single month.  We were rapidly running out of money and whilst Paul was confident he would find work if we found ourselves back in the UK, my employment prospects were far better in Australia but we couldn’t just stay indefinitely.  If we stayed in Australia for very much longer without working, at some point we would literally find ourselves on the street and it was a sobering prospect.

Paul’s Dad had already been more than generous and we really didn’t want to worry him more (he was already talking about sending us part of his pension) but we had to accept the fact that we needed help and we have to turn to my parents to ask for it.  We hadn’t wanted to worry them either but if we could borrow some money it would give us a little longer for at least one of us to secure an income.  Of course, I don’t know my parents’ financial situation – I know they’re not on the breadline but they are pensioners and they are not wealthy by any stretch of the imagination.  Furthermore, they are very fit and healthy pensioners and I’m always encouraging them to spend their money while the can still enjoy it.  It was time to swallow my pride and ask for help and hope they hadn’t followed my advice!

I couldn’t telephone them because I was not sure how I would deal with speaking to them so I emailed then and candidly explained our situation asking for a loan.

We went to bed that night at least secure in the knowledge that our fate would soon be known.  We would either be flying back to the UK within a few weeks or have a reprieve of a couple of months to wait out a bit longer.   Going home in itself wouldn’t be such a hardship but going back to such an uncertain economy where jobs are hard to come by was a frightening prospect.  Paul would probably find work but I remain convinced in the present climate I would struggle to find a job, a hunch that is supported by a cursory job search on the Internet.

Almost two months after our arrival in Australia, we haven’t really yet had a chance to reflect on the journey we made getting here.  We just don’t feel that we have the luxury to ponder on those experiences until we know what the next stage is.  Ultimately, we know we are lucky enough to have had the opportunity to move here to Australia and it would be rather unfortunate if we weren’t able to give it our best shot.  While a little part of me (and a big part of Paul who loves London more than life itself) would not be heartbroken to return home, the reality is that we want to stay here, at least for a while.

My lovely parents came to the rescue and while I won’t dwell on the tears that were shed I can hardly describe the feeling of overwhelming relief.  They phoned us the day after receiving my email to tell us that they had been to the bank and transferred more than I had asked for and they also told us that they were happy to help us make the best of our opportunity in Australia.  We doggedly continued to search for work but we had some breathing space and for that I will be eternally grateful to my lovely mum and dad.   I am sure that on the one hand they would have been happy to see us return to the UK but they recognised our prospects were realistically much better in Australia for the time being and they sincerely wanted us to make the most of our exciting opportunity.

We knew we could still end up returning home but we now had until about the end of September before climbing on that plane (as opposed to the end of next week).  In the meantime, we knuckled down with renewed vigour and a sense of optimistic reprieve.  I had another interview arranged by my very good employment agent, Paul booked a fork lift course and we continued to send off applications at the rate of about 2 a day.

Even after all this we still sat our balcony gazing at our peas and carrots which were thriving in the Melbourne winter and continued to wonder with a sense of uncertainty whether we would be living here long enough to enjoy the fruits of our labour or whether we would be back in London just in time for a long English winter.

We decided that, for one evening anyway, we would put those thoughts out of our minds and we went to the see the penguins on Phillip Island instead.

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