Three days into it.

Set off for Dubai on Wednesday the 20th June, in a taxi at 10 in the morning. We'd had a great deal of goodbyes, some sparking more emotion than others often from surprising sources. The old house was still being sorted up until the last day. The last two pieces to go were the sofas, one having its legs amputated to get it out the door, (it had arrived via the double doors at the back, which were now locked and the keys with the letting agents).

Legs strung like piano wire we rode into Gatwick. No queues for check in, security nor at the gate. We were ushered on to a large plane with very nice seats and a little screen in the seat in front. The kids were immediately presented with giftsd galore and Kira sorted out the advanced menus on the gadgets in front of us. Five hundred movies to watch and just 15 hours to do it in. We ate and goggled for the next 6 hours, landing in Dubai at around 01:20 in the morning their time. Raya had crashed, but Kira was still going with lids like lead.

We scurried our way through Dubai's bling malls, such hussle and scrambling around so many people. Dubai airport (what we saw) was mostly given over to selling, with air passengers very much a by-line. Not much signage, although there were enough staff around to make sure we didn't get too lost. We spent a little time wondering how the pram was going to make it to Perth.

We all stumbled on to an identically sumptuous plane for Perth and took off at around 3 am. Cameras on the underside and nose of the plane meant we could see just how fast and how high up we really were, (although a lot of that was lost in the dark). The kids were well and truly gone now, sleeping deeply across the majority of the seating available. Suj and I slept with the blankets on our heads. In the true style of sky hospitality, a firm tap on my shoulder announced the arrival of a chicken curry at around 5 am. But eating does pass the time, especially when every thing slotted, Tetris style on the tray.

So all in all the flight was far better than expected. We shuttled the bags through a multitude of x-ray machines, (they should just x-ray the plane when it lands). I popped my back lugging the tonnage of suitcases off and on belts and trolleys (we were 1 kilo under the excess baggage marker). Met with my new boss and taxied into Perth to stay a couple of nights at the Travelodge.

On the next day (Friday) we collected the hire car and took possession of the new house. And now it really dawned on us what it is we have to do. Unfurnished means unfurnished. We need Fridge, Freezer, Microwave, full cutlery, something to sleep on until the beds arrive, stuff to sit on ... the list goes on but you get the idea. It started on Saturday, at Ikea!! Now it's Sunday, and so far we've decided to rent and buy, get cheap standby stuff and only buy what we like. So things are not exactly going to plan, but at least they are going.

We've also walked and driven around a small percentage of Perth. Impressions so far:

The roads are wide and straight, with retail or residential along them, rarely a mixture. All the frontage appear to be one storey high. The other place we've been where things appear planned out like this was L.A. The narrow, 3 storey accommodations above the shop fronts in the U.K. must appear very cramped to the Australians and Americans.

The house fronts, when not dominated by car ports, either have no lights on, or the blinds are drawn. Combined with the distance between the front of house and the street, they give the effect of everyone being very withdrawn. Again, our open windows looking in on TVs and flocked wall paper must seem to border on the exhibitionist to the trans-Atlantic and Pacific folk.

In the 3 days we've spent in Perth, we've been in Borders book shop and Ikea, we've seen MacDonalds, Subway, John Lewis (David Jones) and many other stores that are either the same as over in the UK or are recognisable in style and content. Lots of people write about the "Everywhere Town" that the multi-nats have developed, the same brands in the same high streets in every major city. The running theme "familiarity" comes back in to play. We weren't expecting to find high streets steeped in Australian culture. But we didn't know what to expect outside of the usual high street names. Their existence here just means we know what to do, and things feel familiar. While that is nice, it's also a little deflating. But only a little, who are we kidding, if we were brave enough, we'd be in Rio.

Outside of the global brands, the white culture here harks back to Anglo-Saxon heritage, with references to the Mediaeval. Churches and bells, themed shops. The other strong influence, (apparent in the street planning), is the States, with Malls, drive thru's, NY skyline. Sometimes you look out of the cafe window and it feels like Main Street, Disney Land. That's not to say that Perth is an immitation, just that the ambience you get from the surroundings is familiar.

The weather so far has been strong rain showers rapidly interspersed with warm sun. But I've been informed that is what they're having in blighty also. The main difference being, this is winter, that is summer :D

Noticed that I keep trying to look at things and commit them to memory. Like today on the train, I found myself trying to imprint the sights and shapes of the gardens, houses and landscape I was passing. Decided it was like trying to tattoo water so gave up.

Been trying to think of a couple of things to record, but it's taking too long to organise what it was I wanted to write, so better to just throw them down.

Thinking a lot about what makes a home. It may be trite to say so, but it has an awful lot to do with familiarity. The routines, the sights, the interactions that repeat themselves become the daily "sphere of reference" that I live in (gawd, reading this back it sounds very A'level). It becomes a home because I am familiar with it. Far from breeding contempt, it becomes a comfortable, reassuring place, somewhere perhaps that I can predict what is expected of me. I don't have to make an effort to think about how to interact with the people in it. They know me and I know them. I don't have to think about where to get things, if I need a service or product, the chances are I know where to get them, or at least know where to start looking for them. Things are arranged in the sphere that I enjoy. My journey to work contains things that I regularly like to do, like listen to the radio, read my magazine, listen to a book.

Whilst things may change, but because I'm familiar with the things in the sphere, I notice those changes and appreciate them. The scenery that I pass, either out with the family or just walking to the shops, changes subtly over time. I notice those changes because I'm familiar with the scenery.

How long then, until a new place becomes familiar, becomes a home? Linked with these thoughts are others about what I may miss. When the time comes to decide whether to return to England, what do I think now will be the "pulls" back home? It won't necessarily be those things that I'm most familiar with. I imagine it will be the opportunity to do things that I'll miss. For example, go walking in the Lake District or Scotland. Go for a weekend to Brighton. Ride my bike around forestry commission land.

Then there are the things from my past, walking around the areas of Kent that I grew up in. Finally there is family and friends. The ability to call them up and visit, to holiday with them, and most importantly to share happy and sad occasions with them.

Last weekend was a significant moment (which is what this blog is supposed to be about after all). We paid a visit to some friends in Norfolk to see their new born and to "say goodbye". We had a lovely weekend as I we set off back down the motorway, it finally dawned on me that the opportunity to see them like this would be, from now, out of the question. Next weekend we have a similar occasion lined up with my family. The prospect of this is now far more daunting. I think the twin "pulls" of both the familiar and the family may be the strongest when it comes to thinking about returning.

Of course who can say now, but it may be interesting to have the above to refer to when the time comes, just as something to compare myself against.