A burnt-out media executive. A chance to leave it all behind. Can she take that leap into the unknown, or is she doomed to fail?
Alison was stuck going nowhere. Despite the money her TV bosses offered, her shiny career had well and truly lost its lustre. Nothing would make up for her sacrifices these past fifteen years.
When she spotted an opportunity for her other half Down Under, could she leave behind a well-paid job and all that was familiar to up sticks?
When the restoration of the couple's dream home became unaffordable, they were off once again, crisscrossing the planet in a whirlwind journey of love, life, and passports.
The Accidental Plus One: Travel Tales from a Trailing Spouse is a heart-warming and humorous true story, that proves sometimes love leads us on the most unexpected journeys. You'll love this fun, globetrotting adventure if you like stories about brave but foolhardy risk-takers, quirky characters, and amusing tales from departure lounges and arrival halls.
A burnt-out media executive. A chance to leave it all behind. Can she take that leap into the unknown, or is she doomed to fail?
Alison was stuck going nowhere. Despite the money her TV bosses offered, her shiny career had well and truly lost its lustre. Nothing would make up for her sacrifices these past fifteen years.
When she spotted an opportunity for her other half Down Under, could she leave behind a well-paid job and all that was familiar to up sticks?
When the restoration of the couple's dream home became unaffordable, they were off once again, crisscrossing the planet in a whirlwind journey of love, life, and passports.
The Accidental Plus One: Travel Tales from a Trailing Spouse is a heart-warming and humorous true story, that proves sometimes love leads us on the most unexpected journeys. You'll love this fun, globetrotting adventure if you like stories about brave but foolhardy risk-takers, quirky characters, and amusing tales from departure lounges and arrival halls.
February 2000 My imaginary conversation with Nobel laureate TS Eliot as I crawl along Oxford Road, Manchester goes like this:
No, Thomas Stearns, the cruellest month isnāt April. Itās February here in the North West, when I canāt see past the car in front.
Freezing fog passes for daylight at this time of the year. Iāve left and returned home in the dark all winter on my three-hour daily commute. And today is no different.
If Iām not careful, Iāll be doing this for the rest of my working life. āThe fog clears by mid-morning and turns to rain that smashes against my office window. I glance down at the stick figures below, scurrying along with umbrellas aloft, like a scene out of an LS Lowry painting. When I next look up at the clock, itās 12.30pm. I grab my coat and umbrella and make for the door. Itās still raining, but lunchtimes are my only chance to get any exercise during the working week.
As itās Mondayāwhen senior jobs in advertising, broadcasting and media education are advertisedāI buy a copy of the Guardian. Iām not looking to move jobs, but I want to know whatās out there. As the rain pelts down, I hurry back to work, shaking off the water as I run up to the canteen to buy lunch, then to my office to eat al desko while looking at the job ads.
I turn straight to the media section. A display ad, with the words Media Professor New Zealand, jumps out at me. I think of my other half, known as BB Lookalike or Not Bryan Brown after a drunk in a sleazy bar in Montreal mistook him for the Australian actor. An assistant professor for ten years, he maybe needs to leave or threaten to do so to get promoted to full professor.
There arenāt many universities in New Zealand. Iāve studied at three of themāgraduating from Victoria in Wellington, a place I left 20 years ago, with an arts degree. And BB Lookalikeās only connection to the country is through me. We spent a Christmas and New Year there, and one highlight was walking in the Abel Tasman National Park, not far from Mariri, where I grew up. Itās a bit of a leap from going on holiday and liking a place, to applying for a job there, so I set aside this fantasy and examine the practicalities.
The job is in Hamilton at the University of Waikato. Despite being on the main highway between Wellington and Auckland, itās a place Iāve never wanted to stop at. And the friends who grew up there have all left. Known as a ācow town,ā itās smack in the middle of the North Island and prime dairy farming country.
How bad can it be? At least itās driving distance to the bright lights of Auckland.
At 5.45pm, my boss walks into my office. āOn your way,ā he says. āWe donāt get paid for overtime.ā
When Iāve been here as long, Iāll turn into a clock watcher like you.
āIām waiting for the traffic to clear,ā I fib. In reality, Iām agonising over a Catch-22. In one corner is an agent who wants a fee we canāt afford. In the other, a producer who is pressuring me to pay what theyāre asking, and in the third, the boss who says weāve reached the payment ceiling. And Iām the one who has to get them to all agree.
Things must be bad if sitting in a traffic jam is preferable to answering another passive-aggressive email from the entertainment department. I log out of my computer, sling the newspaper into my bag, grab my coat, and head out the door.
Once Iām clear of the city centre and on the M56, after the Manchester Airport turnoff, the traffic flows and I make good progress. I roll up at the home of Sue, our dogsitter, and as usual, Zebedee is reluctant to leave after hanging out with other dogs all day.
When we finally get home, the first thing I do is show BB Lookalike the ad.
āWhat do you reckon?'
āIāll have a look,ā he says. āIāll see if anyone knows anything about the department.ā
When I have a spare moment, I weigh up the cost of living and the price of houses in England versus New Zealand. But Iām not comparing apples with apples, as the North West is one of the cheapest places to live here. Or I am, as Hamilton is comparable. The only difference is New Zealand has no stamp duty on property purchases.
BB Lookalike says heāll throw his hat in the ring and see what happens. Applying for jobs at other universities is expected when youāve been at the same institution for a long time.
Two weeks after the closing date, Waikato invites BB Lookalike to an in-person interview. In New Zealand. I want to go with him on a ālook-seeā visit, but I have neither the money nor the flexibility at work to take a holiday at such short notice. Because he leaves on a Saturday, I can drop him off at Manchester Airport. But as I can only park in the five-minute drop-off bay, we have to say our goodbyes in front of the parking warden, who strides towards us, telling me to hurry.
āTake plenty of pics,ā I call as I zoom out of the parking spot before the grumpy attendant can book me.
I spend my days coming up with sweeteners, persuading a reluctant agent to go with the BBC rather than ITV for the sake of their clientās future career. I canāt pay the client what they ask for, but I can throw in a clothing allowance and their preferred hair and make-up artist. By night, I imagine myself walking on a deserted beach on the other side of the world.
Midweek, BB Lookalike calls me from his hotel. āYouāll love it here,ā he says. Heās come back from a tour of the countryside with one of the staff in the film and media department. Sheās taken him to Raglan on the West Coast, known throughout the surfing world as having one of the best left-hand breaks.
āItās how I imagine California was before it was ruined,ā he says. āThere is a guy here from Hawaii who runs a burger bar and will never return.'
āI pick him up from Manchester Airport the following Sunday. If he was offered the job, heād say yes because he can shape the department and run with it. Itās his chance to make a difference in a country with a population the size of Irelandās.
Heās been back for fewer than twelve hours when the verbal offer comes through.
Itās madness to up sticks and move to the other side of the world because weāre sick of the weather and the climate in the UK. We both suffer from a form of seasonal affective disorder (SAD), but then, doesnāt everybody? And what about the upheaval? Surely itās easier to find new jobs in England.
One of the many things BB Lookalike and I have in common is we are boarding school survivors. No experience will be as traumatic as the first night in the dormitory, lying awake, listening to all the other children weeping under the bedclothes and pining for home. Having the rug pulled out from under you when youāre seven forces you to stand on your own two feet. Weāre both seasoned independent travellers, living abroad after graduating from university. And we thrive on change. The difference is this time, weāll be going on an adventure together.
New Zealand is my past, but could it be our future, too?
I scribble a note to say yes; in principle, subject to the fine print in the contract.
When the written contract comes through, we realise the salary will be enough for us to live on. And thereās a generous relocation package. The university will pay us to take all our furniture and effects, cover our airfares, and give us six weeks in short-term accommodation. Of course, we must cover the cost of dog transport and vet checks for Zebedee, which will be more than both our flights combined.
āWhat do you think?ā
āYes,ā I say. āWe left London and made it work. We can make it happen in New Zealand too. The timingās right. For both of us.ā
With a stroke of a pen, BB Lookalike signs his contract. The start date is another seven and a half months away.
And so, the countdown begins.
Alison worked in the media before she met academic BB Lookalike. His profession took the couple and their labrador, Zebedee, travelling across continents, from New Zealand to Australia, Europe, and America. From being āthose Southerners to Aussies,ā the couple moved to villages and across countries where Alison met a range of interesting people. From helping people relocate (which once resulted in a couple selecting a home based on house number) to having a taxi driver explain the secret plans of the lizard people, Alison shared the quirkiness of everyday life.
Ā
This is an enjoyable read that feels like sitting around a dinner table with an interesting guest who loves to entertain. Itās charming, witty, and incredibly funny, and quite hard to disengage even when you know youāre getting tired. From wondering about a late-night car driving with its lights off to saying goodbye to Zebedee, this one kept me engaged throughout.Ā
Ā
This is a book about the joy, wonder, and amazement of everyday life, from planting carrots and zucchini to having a meal in a pub. There are elements that everyone can experience, just as we can all look at fruit, but artists create something unique and enjoyable, which makes it more special. And there are moments we are unlikely to experience, like moving into a home once owned by undercover detectives who had to move to protect their children or having a driving instructor insist you stay in his car during his next lesson.
Ā
Like a conversation with that interesting guest at a dinner party, I wished this story would never end, hoped to encounter more, and am sure there will be a next chance to find out more. This is a memorable and quirky book about a life filled with travel and adventure. I highly recommend it to all readers looking for a light hearted and engaging travel adventure.
Ā