7 weeks ago I wrote about my endeavours of disastrous stage
racing. As the weeks slipped by without
much more than a leisurely pedal being turned I began to think about the off
season and what I could make of my life as my cycling began to stall. It gave
me a chance to step back and to consider how and even if I could turn a dream
into reality. Sadly the answer to this
question which all young aspiring athletes must ask of themselves is a
whispered no. I am proud to say that I
took chances and risks when they came my way, I’m humbled by the support of the
Dave Rayner fund and most of all blessed to have broadened my horizons and
enhanced my life through cycling. But
what of the here and now… where do I write from?
Well I’m never one to hang around but neither am I
impulsive. If I go shopping for clothing
I only ever have to pay for an hours parking… I make my mind up and stick with
it… sometimes because I’ve lost the receipts though! I knew work had to be my
main priority and like a huge chunk of my generation the pond simply can’t
provide for all the fish, so I made the biggest decision of my life and decided
to fly from the pond of recession to the new land of opportunity… West
Australia. It’s a big step. My grandmother posed herself the same
question in 1976, England was mere existence for her, she wanted a life and to
have things to look forward to. Australia
was as desperate for workers as she was for opportunity and so she gambled
everything on the leaflet offering a better life. Back then the internet was
something inside a pair of swim shorts and Australia had only just stopped
being a six weeks boat journey away so information was hard to come by and the
bravery required to jump into the unknown with two young children must have
been immense. I decided to make that
same life changing step whilst gazing aimlessly out of the window one morning. I wouldn’t say I’m quite as brave as her, I
have never had to go hungry on an evening or knit my own clothes but the
principles of wanting a better life remain.
September 12th was the big day. I arrived bleary eyed at Manchester airport
and showed up to the front desk destined for Singapore. It wasn’t my knees trembling but my arms
weirdly as I struggled to hide the fact my luggage was overweight. After a shoulder wrenching couple of minutes
of dangling my bag gently on the scales I was cleared and left to say my goodbyes
to my family. It was a true evacuees
experience as my mum put on a brave face, my dad offered me a firm handshake
and my sister politely asked if I had any English change I’d like to get rid of…
I felt only excitement at the time but as I read and re-read the words of
wisdom in the good luck card from my parents I knew the lump in my throat wasn’t
excitement… that lump is normally somewhere else! Singapore arrived after some amazing thunderstorms
around Delhi and with over two hours to kill it was time to do some Yorkshire man’s
shopping… that is, showing up with no money and looking only to waste time. I love airports; they are the only place to
truly people watch. Being in Asia there
was the expected abundance of Chinese tourists taking cliché photos at every opportunity. Singapore is probably the best airport in the
world to kill a few hours as I took myself off on the tour of the butterfly
gardens and marvelled at the koi carp pond with the building excitement that Oz
was just around the corner.
September 13th finally came after what felt like
the longest day of my life… I proudly slipped into the fast track queue for
passport control for Australians only. I
stood there at the machine and scanned away, the bloke next to me marvelling at
my computer skills before piping up and asking if he was ‘doing it right’? I
hadn’t expected to be put on the spot so early but I put my new mentality into
practice… Lie back and think of the fosters adverts! As I quickly let out a ‘Yeeeaaaahhh’
in my finest OZ twang. Then it was onto
customs and my first opportunity to get in an inadvisable joke. The giant red circular bag laid on top of my
luggage labelled ‘Roval Aerodynamic wheels’.
The bloke in front glanced down at its locked zips, looked up at me and
asked ‘what’s in it’? …. Oh dear! Never one to miss a moment of comedy I
replied ‘frisbie’… He raised an eyebrow before probably resuming his day
dream.
I’ve been here three full days now. The logistics are falling into place and with
no sign of a bike yet Job hunting is my number one priority. The local papers are full of opportunities
which can give me little doubt as to whether I’ve made the right decision so
wish this ‘Pommy’ all the best!