I start this blog about 24 hours before I’ll be sitting in an airport with a 7 and 4 year old waiting for our flight with the RAF to the Falkland Islands. A little last minute you might think, though I’m sure I could push it closer to the minute by minute countdown. It’s even more last minute when you realise that the countdown to this moment started almost a year ago when Richard, my husband, first asked whether it would be ok if he applied for a job in the Falkland Islands.
Richard does know how to pick his moments. This query came just as I was packing for our family holiday to Ireland. It also came accompanied by assurances that he was sure he wouldn’t get an interview, let alone the job. Being a supportive wife, and realising it was just an application, I was encouraging. I remained encouraging when the news came whilst we were on holiday that he had secured an interview. Given the title of this blog, it will of course come as no surprise that Richard was successful in the whole process and was offered the role of senior policy adviser to the Falkland Islands Government. In a wildly positive move on my part, I encouraged him to accept the post, with the result that on 1 January 2018 Richard flew to the Falkland Islands to take up his post, leaving me in the role of single working mum of two boys trying to organise her own career break to bring us all back together again.
7 hectic months later as I have juggled the demands of work, school and commute, the school year has now finished, the paperwork is completed, and we are about to join Daddy for, what is for us, a huge adventure. Our 4 year old has never been on a plane and his first experience will be an 18 hour extravaganza to the other side of the world. Even our 7 year old has only been on one holiday flying and that was 5 years ago to Cyprus. In the interests of preserving my own sanity, I have of course invested in the latest electronic equipment. Tablets, headphones and power banks have been purchased, all timing restrictions will be removed and I am potentially hopelessly optimistic that a peaceful flight will ensue. Since the flight is dry, I don’t even have the refuge of gin, so the optimism levels are running high at present.
What seems like an endless packing effort has also been completed. From basking in 30 degree heat in the UK, we’ll be landing in Falklands winter. At least we are assured that the snow is currently gone, but it has meant that the jumpers and thick coats need to be fairly handy for landing. Packing all the clothes three of us need for a year has also left me with two large cases (which I had to hastily purchase for this trip) plus hand luggage for each of us to attempt to manhandle into the airport. Well, when I say each of us, the reality is likely to be myself attempting to manage two large cases plus one hand luggage sized wheely case whilst simultaneously yelling at two wayward boys to manage their own trunkis. We’ll be clearly identifiable in Birmingham airport. Donations of gin will be welcome.
Being more serious, excitement levels are rising. It’s been a long time since we’ve been together as a family. In actuality that moment will be postponed for a little while as the realities of juggling a 52 week career break with the school timetable means that I’ll be back in the UK shortly to finish off work before I can start my year of adventure. My husband’s self-preservation instinct has already kicked in with minimal concern being expressed as to how he might cope with a couple of weeks child care on his own. By the time I join him for the full year though, I am fully expecting that he and the boys will have seen at least 3 if not all 5 of the penguin species on the Falkland Islands that have given me the name of this blog.
Five penguins and us 