Sophie Lee's Blog
Hi,

So, earlier this year my family and I pulled up stumps and made the big move from sunny Australia to what is today a frosty, Brexit-y London. To date, pitfalls, hazards, wardrobe malfunctions, bust- ups and blow-outs have outnumbered the one or two small victories but I remain optimistic. I don’t think I could ever have anticipated just how challenging it would be to restart life in a new and unfamiliar environment, but can promise you will hear more about it through my regular blogs.

As I sit at a desk in what my three children call Homework Jail, it’s all glimpses of scaffolding and plastic wrapped building sites, flaming red and orange leaves and the habitual darting of squirrels overlaid with a soundtrack of jets and sirens, the bang and clatter of building and rebuilding (‘ like giants moving furniture’ I say to anyone who can hear me) and the squawking of kids from one of the eight or so schools on this street alone. For this I traded the Pacific Ocean, early morning swims and south-easterly breezes?

Anyway, it is from this new and bracing atmosphere of conker battles and frequent trips to Tesco’s pastry shelf for reviving cinnamon buns, that I write to you with news and advice for anyone daft enough to consider uprooting their family and moving to the other side of the world.

You can also follow me on:
Instagram @slhippocampus
Twitter @SophELee
Pinterest @slhippocampus


Thank you!
Talk to you soon.

Sophie
  1. 20 June 2018

    My youngest child is puffy-eyed from lack of sleep and therefore sluggishly dressing for World War 2 Day. Much to his disgust, boys  are not allowed to come dressed as soldiers flaunting weapons, but rather, as children who are about to be evacuated from Blitz-y London to the countryside with all its anticipative magical wardrobes. Items I’ve been able to forage for this event so far consist of skater shorts with pockets in the wrong places to be of the period, long  socks that read the word Disorder, his usual button up white shirt, a linen blazer and a grey v neck- even though the forecast is a blazing 25 degrees and sunny. Once WW2 boy’s transformation is complete, minus the blazer which he tears off declaring it ‘IMPOSSIBLE’, the tweenager, stationed at the bench with toast, YouTube and Latin verbs, snorts loudly.

    “Don’t say anything,” I hiss, then shout [...]


  2. 14 March 2018

    Although it’s a full two years since I relocated to London, there are days when I feel as though I’m a kidney, transplanted into the body of a benevolent but fractious host. Some days the host body shudders, develops an infection and the kidney, seemingly, begins its slow path of rejection.
    But for the majority of the time I feel as though the transplant has been a success and if the host body could just keep taking its meds and stay away from acidic alcoholic beverages, all would be well.
    The secret to making sure that you, the kidney, adapt and thrive in a relatively new environment boils down to having  a positive mental attitude (mine is dubious), but friends, girlfriends in particular, make a hell of a difference to your daily status quo. At the ripe age of this particular kidney friends are needed more than ever, [...]


  3. 31 January 2018

    There’s nothing quite like the ‘flu to kickstart a detox. I don’t know about you, but that was how 2018 began for me. There I was, on the flight home from Sydney, dreading the thought of giving up everything delicious in life when along came a virus which ensured nothing passed my lips for days. Everyone here in London has had flu, flu and more flu; Aussie flu, Japanese flu, H1N1 flu, Ol’ Swine flu and the list of maladies goes on. Mine evolved with what imagined were tiny men pulling on my orbital nerves, a strange buzzing sensation in my face and relentless nausea. When I finally scraped myself off the bathroom floor and the comfort of both its tiles and its damp bathmat, I floated off into the ether for days like a bewildered creature trapped in a Damian Hurst sculpture. I quite literally couldn’t get out of [...]