Family

March 20, 2007March 20, 2007

Going Dutch: NL in ’07!

The year is 2007, and the time of the Big Move is drawing near. For three years, we’ve been planning to move to the Netherlands, and it is finally starting to happen.

We took a trip to Rome in the spring of 2003. Alex had just turned two; Fiona was still in the planning stages. Our journey to Rome took us through Stansted Airport, where we had a couple of hours to kill. It was a nice day, so we went outside to enjoy the fresh air and sunshine. We were joined by a few other kids and their parents, and we started chatting. We ended up speaking mostly English, this was mostly because it was the main language we all had in common. I don’t remember what the nationalities of the other couples were, but I think that one of them was Spanish + Italian, and the other was Italian + Danish. Their children were all merrily running around and jabbering away in a variety of different languages at age two.

Abi is grew up in California, I grew up in the Netherlands, and we both have a very international outlook. But talking to those other parents, we felt painfully aware that staying in Scotland was not the best way to pass our multi-cultural perspectives and love of languages on to our children. So we decided to move, and to live in a country without English as its primary language.

Because we’re very cautious by nature, this wasn’t an overnight decision. For a long time, we just talked about where the best place to settle would be. We love Rome, but Italy didn’t feel right. Initially we also dismissed the Netherlands, because I thought it would be unfair to give me the advantage of living somewhere I already spoke the language. Then we thought about Quebec, because it would give us a nice balance between English and French. It wasn’t until after Fiona was born in 2004 that we cut the knot and made a decision: yes, it would be the Netherlands. And the year would be 2007.

Why wait three years, though? Well, did I mention that we’re very cautious people? Although we knew intellectually that this was what we wanted to do, the idea of moving straight away scared the crap out of us. We were both at transition points in our careers. I had just started contracting, and Abi was just moving into test management. We both felt that we would prefer to pump up our skills for a while before attempting a big move. We recognized that we had to set an exact date, though, because otherwise we might just keep postponing it because we didn’t feel “ready”.

That’s why we chose 2007. It was far enough in the future not to be too scary, but not so far away that it was a pipe dream. Alex would be six, Fiona would be three; almost exactly the ages that Scott and I were when we moved to NL. We were both speaking Dutch within a matter of months, so we knew that Alex and Fiona wouldn’t have any great problems with the language. In three years, Abi could take Dutch lessons, and bring herself up to a level that would allow her to hit the ground running in a Dutch company. We both had specific professional goals that we wanted to achieve that would maximize our value to employers. It would also give us time to do some work on our house (new kitchen, bathroom) to increase its value before selling.

So here we are. Abi has been taking Dutch classes at Edinburgh University for the last two years. In 2006, we took a couple of scouting trips to the Netherlands to look at some different cities and to get a feel for the place. Alex finished his first year of school at the end of June. Yesterday evening we had a decorator round to give us a quote for painting our hallway and living room in preparation for putting the house up for sale. And at the weekend, Abi sent off her first job application.

If we could choose all our dates, this is what our ideal plan would look like for the next few months:

Mid April: we come back from holiday, and Abi starts sending out CVs and job applications
Mid/end April: paint & tidy up the house
Begin May: house goes up for sale
Mid May: Abi starts getting job interviews
Begin June: Abi gets offered a job, to start on 2nd July
Begin June: House gets sold
Rest of June: Various trips to NL to look for houses and schools
End June: We find a house in NL
Begin July: Abi moves to NL, stays in a hotel or short-term rented accomodation
Begin July: I stay in Edinburgh with the kids, tying up loose ends
Mid July: The kids and I move to NL, to stay in a hotel or short-term rented accomodation
End July: Arrange school for Alex, and find childcare for Fiona
Begin August: Move out of house in Edinburgh, and into new house in NL.
Mid August: Alex starts school.

As Abi is fond of saying, it’s a plan for Angels. It wouldn’t take much to blow all of this careful preparation out of the water. But we’re ready for that. Abi has handed in her notice at the Bank, and won’t be going back to work after we get back from holiday at Easter. This will give her the opportunity to be flexible with anything the comes up. And in the absence of any major emergencies, we still plan to go ahead with buying a house, and moving in July. It’s a bold move, but we think we’re ready for it.

(Oh, and as for me? I had the foresight to find an excellent company in Edinburgh that will let me work…from the Netherlands. They rock.)

November 15, 2006November 16, 2006

1022

Fiona is 1022 days old today. This is significant because Alex was 1022 days old when Fiona was born, which means that he is exactly twice as old as his little sister today.

Fiona’s eyes are red and her face looks puffy because she has a terrible cold right now. Alex looks silly because…well, he is.

August 24, 2006September 23, 2006

Alex starts school

From April 2001 to August 2006:

Note the school uniform. Just for the record, I disapprove of them. Yes, they make children look cute, but cute in the Yorkshire-Terrier-in-a-paisley-waistcoat sense, i.e. just not right.

Britain has an obsession with uniforms, from kids at school to adults in business. I used to think there was a shadowy conspiracy of tailors who manipulated politicans and lobbied industry to maintain suit and tie as the standard dress code. How else to explain the fact most large institutions still require even their computer geeks, who rarely get to see daylight, let alone a customer, to still wear “business dress”?

Now, though, I’m coming round to the point of view that wearing a school uniform during your formative years somehow warps your mind. You may start to feel uncomfortable when you’re out of uniform, so you join a company where everyone wears suits. Or more insidiously, you may start buying into the myth that wearing school uniform promotes a sense of common identity, and puts both rich and poor on a level playing field. And you decide to take that idea forward into the workplace.

To this I say, “thpppt.” When was the last time you were around a set of school kids? If you really think that wearing a uniform is going to stop them from forming cliques and ganging up on others, you need to get your doctor to adjust your medication. Likewise, if you think that wearing a jacket and tie in the workplace presents a more professional face to your customers, you need to hire some better-informed consultants. Providing a good service is what makes your customers happy.

Anyway, that’s my rant. Here are some more photos of Alex dressed up as a junior bank clerk.

Update: If you’re looking for the actual details of Alex’s first day at school Abi has them over here.

July 28, 2006September 23, 2006

The two-weeks-late back-from-holiday post

Almost three weeks late now. Oh, well.

We were in France with my parents for a week, followed by a week in the Netherlands. It was hot. We did very little, and had a great time doing so.

In The Netherlands, we spent two days at De Efteling, a theme park with a focus on fairytales. This is where we discovered that Fiona is as much of a thrill-seeker as her big brother. There is a rollercoaster called the Pegasus which has no height restrictions. It doesn’t have any loops in it, but it rattles around at a fair clip. Fiona looked kinda worried while we were on it, and when we disembarked, I asked her if she was okay.

“That was fun,” she said.

“You want to do that again?” I asked.

(Breathless) “Yeah!“

Some random notes that I had meant to flesh out into a coherent narrative, but which seem a lot less pressing now:

I’ve known intellectually that booze is cheaper on the Continent, but for some reason it was only on this trip did this sink in properly. Holy shit! Even good single malt whisky is cheaper in Euros than it is here in its country of origin in Pounds. Having to pay even £4 for a bottle of quaffing wine now feels like a stiff gouging.
The Van Der Valk hotels we stayed in in Belgium and NL (Charleroi and Heerlen, respectively) didn’t have air conditioning. I don’t know if this is consistent across all their hotels, but bear it in mind if you decide to stay there when the temperature is in the mid 30s.
If you’ve got kids, consider getting a suite at the Van Der Valk hotels instead of just a double room with extra beds. They’re not much more expensive, and the extra space is fantastic. (Thanks, mum & dad!)
If you want to go to De Efteling when it’s quiet, choose the hottest days of the year. The park is thoroughly bedded into the surrounding forest, and all the waiting areas and walks between attractions are shaded by old trees. It was about 37C when we were there, and it was hot but bearable.
Dutch radio is chronically insipid. You remember the 1980s? They didn’t go away–they just retired to the Netherlands. In fact, I think Dutch radio stations are required by law to play at least one song an hour by either
1. Billy Joel,
2. Sade, or
3. Simply Red.
Bring your own CDs, or end up with MOR-induced psychosis within three days. Your choice.
Dutch doctors are wonderful. With the enormous heat, Alex ended up with a bad case of dehydration diarrhoea…and that’s all I’ll say about that.
Small local bakeries. Mmmmm, breeeeead.

That last point brings me round to the post-holiday diet: when we got back home, we looked at the photographs of ourselves and went, “bleah.” We’ve been living a snack-food rich lifestyle for too long, and it is time to cut back. Back in 1999, Abi and I both did a simple, low-calorie diet for a few months, and it was very successful for us. We’re doing the same thing this time round as well: we’re targeting 1500kCal a day, which should result in a loss of about 0.5kg a week.

Immediately after the holiday I was up at 80kg, which is heavier than I’ve ever been, and I really would like to get down to 70 and stay there. It’s a long-term project. In fact, it’s not so much a project as a lifestyle switch: once we’re down to our target weights, we have to stay there, and not slip back into old habits. Right now, the diet (for me) consists of a bowl of cereal for breakfast, a sandwich for lunch, and a pretty normal dinner. Fruit inbetween. I don’t drink coffee, so I don’t have a latte habit to deal with.

For the first few days, I spent a lot of time between meals thinking about the fact that I wasn’t eating, but that went away pretty soon. Now, a few weeks on, and I’m feeling pretty good about eating less and better. My weight is down, I’m feeling less bloated and sluggish. The food I do eat, I’m enjoying more. Also, Judging by my weight fluctuations (we’ve been weighing in every morning, and keeping a chart), I even seem to be able to cope with the odd diet malfunction (of the round, cheese-covered kind). So I’m not even feeling completely deprived of my favourite foods. Just not as a daily habit–only as an occasional indulgence.

Oh yeah, there’s some holiday photos, too. (More on Flickr: 1, 2, 3)

February 25, 2006September 23, 2006

Farting vs pumping

At dinner one day towards the end of last year, we noticed a strange smell.

“Alex,” I said, wrinkling my nose, “did you just fart?” (If you don’t have kids of your own, this will sound strange, but it’s true: parents can distinguish the smell of their kids’ farts. Also, we can usually tell by the smell of their breath and body odour when they’re about to fall ill.)

“No,” Alex said.

“Well it certainly smells like you farted.”

“I didn’t fart…I pumped.”

“You did what?”

“I pumped. A fart goes like, ‘brrrp’, and a pump goes like, ‘pffft’.”

“Ohhhkay.”

I’d never heard of the distinction before, but since then, we’ve had this definition confirmed by a number of sources around Edinburgh. I guess it must be a local thing…

February 13, 2006September 23, 2006

Citizen Sutherland

As of today, I am married to a British Citizen.

See Abi’s post for more details.