The first of many firsts

I hadn’t really planned my arrival to the UK to coincide with my birthday. If you want to kick off life in a new country why not celebrate the first of many firsts with a birthday. But my advice is, just don’t do it so close to arriving half way around the world as you might be a wee bit jet lagged.

Yep, it’s a bit like feeling hungover. Groggy mind, slurred words, talking in single sentences. I’m sure my family must have thought “What have we got here….”. But they mustn’t have noticed because they put on a gorgeous dinner and cake for my birthday night.

We had delicious home made fish and chips which was followed by a cute sponge for birthday cake. My rellies sung Happy Birthday. It was then cue for me to blow the candles out, but not before I wished for an exciting chapter of my life in England. Here’s my jet-lagged self looking like I’ve had a few…

It was my birthday, but to me it was also the celebration of the start my new life in England.

 

Arrival in the London fast lane

The plane is hovering above grey clouds and in 15 minutes it will land at London Heathrow airport. I check my watch and hazily wondered why I checked, as my sense of time is out of whack after travelling for nearly two days. My stomach does a flip and I peek out the window again. Now the clouds are dissipating and I can see the lush green English countryside down below. I admire the big country estates which include horse stables and gardner’s cottages, and the established trees surrounding them. But, soon the scene changes and we start hovering above more urban scenes as we move closer to London. Much like the opening images of Eastenders, we fly above terraced houses and grids of roads. Perhaps fittingly The Eagles “Life in the fast lane” is pulsating through my headphones.

Life in the fast lane

Surely make you lose your mind

 I’m here. There’s an atmospheric rush of anticipation in the air as passengers exit the plane. I check my phone for text messages. I had received a text from my parents hoping I had arrived safely. They also added New Zealand had won the cricket. I grin in satisfaction.

I’m in London territory now. I’m the furtherest away from New Zealand I could ever get. I nervously move through the queue at customs. ”How do you qualify for your visa?” the customs officer asked in an efficient manner. “Cos my grandmother was born here” (What a stupid question. Doesn’t this guy know I spent a month getting this visa prepared?). He seems satisfied. With an authoratative stamp in my New Zealand passport, my arrival to the UK is official.

Excitement rushes through me as I collect my bags. I’m about to meet my relatives. I walk through the double doors and am suddenly feeling like a model trudging down a catwalk with a bag on wheels in tow. People are lined up on either sides of the barriers eagerly looking out for loved ones. I resist the urge to point and wink like a celebrity as they watch me walk past. I glance through the sea of unrecognisable faces. I pull my shoulders back in the hope that my “Keep New Zealand Beautiful” t-shirt will help my identification. I eventually spot my relatives and wave with a big smile.

Relief sweeps through me and I’m here. I’m here in the London fast lane. Surely to lose my mind!