Now my heart is full

My Facebook cover photo since 2009 - oak tree at Frensham Heights

I have a confession to make - I've been keeping mum about something that really is quite a major development in my modest little universe. 

Main House at Frensham Heights, under a light dusting of snow
(this photo taken shortly after our arrival from Australia, in early 2008)

A bit more than ten years ago, when the world of blogging was really in its infancy and outside my realm, I started sending out an email newsletter called Hello From Surrey. Over a period of 20 months I kept family and friends informed about the adventures Kevin and I were having, after packing up from Australia and arriving at Frensham Heights School, where we expected to be for only six months. 

Late summer at Frensham - farmland below the school
(taken in 2009)

It was something I really enjoyed doing because I've always written creatively for fun, but mainly because it was a pleasure to share the beauty of the Surrey countryside, which very rapidly captured my heart. I was frequently inspired, and the gushing superlatives and gorgeous photos came very easily.

A decade later, people still tell me how much they enjoyed those newsletters, and indeed, when speaking about me to her friends, Lesley still identifies me as 'Hello-From-Surrey-Maree' - ha! 😆

Entrance to The Secret Garden at Frensham Heights

Roberts House, where we lived for the better part of two years
- this photo taken in early 2009

The entrance to Main House, under a shroud of autumn leaves
- taken in October 2008

Leaving Frensham, though it was our decision to do so, was an incredible wrench for me. To return to the heat and drought of Australia - away from the lush green of England... all I did was wish myself back in Blighty for the next five years.

Happily, of course, we returned to the UK in 2014. It was to the other side of Surrey (Epsom), and much closer to London - so not our ideal location - but we were very glad to be back in this lovely county. 

View over the lawn from Main House, Frensham Heights
- taken one fine Autumn morning in 2008

If you're friends with me on Facebook you might have noticed that I've never, ever changed my cover photo. Since I first joined Facebook in 2009, the cover photo has been a winter shot of my favourite tree at Frensham - an ancient oak estimated to be about 300 years old. I couldn't bear to change the photo, because in some weirdly superstitious fashion I thought that leaving it there would some day guarantee my return to that beautiful place.

That shot was so special to me, and so representative of the beauty of Surrey, that my wonderful niece Eliza did a painting of it - which she presented to Kevin and me for Christmas just after we returned to Australia. It has hung in every place we've lived ever since, and is a precious reminder of both Frensham and the talent of this wonderful young woman.

Frensham Heights oak
- original painting by Eliza Persen (2009)

OK, preamble taken care of.

I am very excited to announce that after many years of wishing and hoping...

Kevin and I are moving back to Frensham!

One of Surrey's glorious tunnels of green

My delight is unbounded.

Now, some of my readers will recall that our two-bedroom flat in Roberts House was what might generously be described as 'bijoux'. It was tiny. Quite a few of you visited, not having fully believed my description of the size of the rooms, I am certain. A kitchen not large enough to accommodate anything other than a bar fridge? [Hmmm.... perhaps] No space even for a garbage bin? (it had to stand out in the hall) [Surely not!] Only a few tiny cupboards with room for four cups / glasses / bowls / plates, two saucepans, a packet of pasta, a jar of Vegemite and a few tins? [You exaggerate...] A living room so cramped that the knees of people sitting opposite each other were almost touching? [Maree, you jest!]

Those of you who did visit, quickly realised I had not been embellishing.

I'm sure some of my readers also thought I added colour for the sake of entertaining reading, with respect to the shenanigans of the Roberts House students. Trust me, I didn't need to invent drama; the escapades of the 17 and 18 year olds in the boarding house - from whose marauding we were protected by a mere door adjoining their rooms - were enough to provide dramatic content to my newsletters. 

This time around, however, not only are we moving back to Frensham, we're going to a house up the other end of the school campus, with a reasonable distance between us and the little horrors. 

It's a three-bedroom house. *gasp*

It has a small garden - squeeeee!!!!!

It has a shed (I'm sure you can hear Kevin's whoops from here...).

It has THIS VIEW:

This will be the outlook from our garden

I cannot tell you how thrilled I am that, for the first time in four years, I will be able to hang sheets outside to dry. Yes, folks - it's the simple pleasures in life that count the most.

I am like a pig in mud. The cat that ate the cream. Now my heart is full, and I urge you to take a listen to this beautiful, beautiful, beautiful song with that title, by my adored Morrissey. This is one of my favourite Morrissey songs, and it quite perfectly captures the current emotional state of yours truly.

A frosty sunrise across the front lawn at Frensham Heights
- taken in December 2008

Back at Frensham. In late August. I could just about burst with anticipation.

I'm off now, to change my Facebook cover photo.

Watch this space.

Until next time,
- Maree  xo

Goodbyes and New Beginnings

Kevin and I have been sitting on some news for a little while. We've shared it with a few people but not widely. 

Almshouses in Farnham's elegant Castle Street
(the blue plaque reads 'Erected by Andrew Windsow Esq in 1619 for the habitation and relief
of eight poor, honest and impotent persons')

If you've known us for any length of time you are probably aware that our first stint of living in the UK came in 2008/09, when Kevin took up a temporary role at Frensham Heights School. One of the science teachers had resigned halfway through the academic year, at reasonably short notice, and the school desperately needed a Physics teacher starting in the New Year. The cry for help made its way around the world, including to Canberra, whence Kevin and I eagerly took advantage of this opportunity. This temporary role included boarding duties and, as such, we had modest accommodation on the school grounds.

We were only supposed to be in the UK for six months, however within a couple of months of us arriving at Frensham, Kevin had been offered a permanent job and we ended up staying for the better part of two years before eventually returning to Australia in September 2009, primarily for family reasons. Living on-site as part of the boarding community was at times frustrating, maddening and challenging, but overall it was a dream come true - to live on a rural estate in the English countryside.

Pretty much ever since that time we have been awaiting a vacancy at Frensham. Indeed, the reason Kevin accepted the job offer with Ewell Castle School three years ago was mainly to get us back into the UK so that we would be poised for any opportunities that arose at Frensham, or in a similar environment.

I'm happy to say that Kevin has been offered a job back at Frensham and we are now in the process of packing up to leave Epsom and move back to the Farnham region.

Frensham Heights School

Autumn early morning - the view from Frensham Heights School

It's ironic that just when we are moving away and I am seriously considering finding another job closer to Farnham, my current job has finally reached some equilibrium with one large chunk of work (occupational health) being handed over to somebody who is capable and efficient and really good fun to share an office with. I juggled occupational health in addition to my own demanding role for nine long months.

Because I am no longer killing myself with 12-hours days, for the first time in a very, very long while I am feeling positive about the future instead of dreading the day / week / month to come.

We are sad to be leaving Winchester House. It's one of the nicest places I've ever lived in terms of immediate surroundings (lots of woodland) and peace and quiet. We have had generally nice neighbours - most of whom have been here the entire time that we have - and despite not wanting to live in a London borough it has been incredibly convenient for meeting up with friends and family staying in London, for attending concerts and other events, and of course I now have a nearly 18-month stint of working in central London on my cv. We have really made the most of our proximity to that great metropolis.

The entrance to Winchester House

One of the many miles of woodland paths running through Epsom Common

We will miss our proximity to Epsom Common and Horton Country Park, and the convenience of being able to nip up to London via a 35-minute train journey.

We'll also miss one of our neighbourhood cats, particularly - the one that looks like they ran out of parts for a white cat, so they rummaged around in the oddments box, found a fluffy dark tail and thought, That'll do... 

But both of us are thrilled to be returning to the area where we have many good friends, and which has so many things to recommend it - deep Surrey countryside with woods, lakes, hills and wildlife. And Farnham itself, surely one of England's nicest Georgian market towns with its beautiful, wide Castle Street (leading up to Farnham Castle and the gigantic Farnham Park behind), independent boutiques and eateries, and arts venues (The Maltings, New Ashridge Gallery etc).

One of the cobbled laneways in Farnham's town centre

Farnham has a plethora of beautiful Georgian buildings
- just look at that pediment! 

The first time we lived in the UK I was very conscious of being a 'stranger in a strange land'. Despite the familiarity of British culture, language, even driving on the same side of the road, I felt like I walked around with a big neon sign above my head, saying FOREIGNER. I never really felt like I had a right to be here.

Certain things really drove me crazy - the dreadful traffic, the hordes of people everywhere (no escape from them, it seemed - certainly not here in the south-east), the diabolically bad coffee, the fact that when you order a cup of tea they automatically put MILK in it - yerrrrrkkkk!

Second time around I am far more relaxed, and I suppose just knowing what to expect is a large part of that. 

The traffic is still insane, there are still way too many people, the coffee has improved somewhat. They still put milk in your tea without asking you - but we have learned to say 'BLACK tea please - no milk!' when ordering. 

I will never get over the Nanny State law that means you can't run a hairdryer in the bathroom (because lord knows, Australians, Americans, Canadians, Asians etc are electrocuted in their thousands every day because they live in uncivilised countries where citizens are unprotected by adequate safety legislation...). 

I will always be annoyed by the propensity of restaurants, pubs and caterers to offer vegetarians nothing but cheese or other forms of dairy. But overall I am now inured to the little foibles of my adopted homeland.

I'm thinking about carrying a supply of these signs
and awarding them to worthy eating establishments

England is indeed feeling more and more like home, as the things that tie me to Australia diminish. Of course there will always be family and friends to miss. Having close friend Lesley in this country for six weeks recently was wonderful. Although we only spent time together at the beginning and end of her time here, somehow just knowing she was in the country was a comfort. It was a wrench when she left to return to Australia.

However my entire life I have felt I did not really belong in Australia - I forever yearned to be elsewhere, definitely somewhere colder and less sunny. Although the UK has its frustrations I am far happier here. Even during those rare periods where the summer temperatures rival those back in Australia, there is a softer edge to the light and the comfort of knowing that the agony will be reasonably short-lived. 


Anybody who knows me personally has probably heard me rant and rave about things that I didn't like about Australia, and still don't. I realise I am incredibly lucky to have been born into a wealthy, multicultural country with many freedoms, with lots of space and numerous other positives. Australia is the place that formed me as a person. I am amazingly fortunate that I will always have the option of returning to the country of my birth. 

Despite those significant factors, at this time I can't imagine myself back in the Great Southern Land. I can't conceive that I will ever feel the great joy in my surroundings that I feel most days here. 

On my walks I still find myself in a sense of wonder - I really live here! 

These centuries-old oak trees are mine to sit beneath, like Orlando as he/she travelled through centuries switching genders (here is a great review of this, my second favourite novel of all time). In fact, I have sat under the very trees that likely sheltered Orlando according that wonderful, magical novel (see my Knole post from last year). 


Those ancient castles, houses and gardens are there for me to wander around whenever I choose.  

Staircase inside Knole House

Fallow deer beneath one of Knole's ancient trees

It's a strongly emotional need for me to walk streets and visit buildings that have seen centuries of life before me. There are only so many times you can visit the comparatively small number of historic buildings in Australia; European civilisation is barely a couple of hundred years old there. Here in the UK and in Europe there are hundreds of thousands of great houses, castles, cottages and inns to explore. 

When I enter an old building I take in everything - the windows, the ceilings, the door handles, even the hinges on the doors. I engage so strongly with the sense of being connected to the past.

Chandelier in the Bath Assembly Rooms

Beautiful, romantic Scotney Castle in Kent

From here, if I feel like going to France I can scoot over by plane, train, automobile or boat. I can be sitting in my cousin's fjord-side home in Norway in a matter of hours. I can even be drinking frozen margaritas with Nancy in Dallas inside of half a day.

And before some of you shout me down with cries of how incredible Aboriginal culture is - one of the oldest civilisations in the world - unfortunately I have never engaged with it on any level. I appreciate that it's unique, and terribly special, but for all the connection I feel with Aboriginal culture, it might as well originate from outer space (no 'Dreamtime' pun intended!). 

There is such a lot to see in the world, and it can't easily be done from the far end of the southern hemisphere, unless you have limitless funds and endless time at your disposal. I have neither of those things, so for now this is where I choose to be.

Our new home in Farnham, from late August

In the past nine years we have moved house four times (this move will be our fifth), in two countries, and I've had eight long(ish) term jobs, plus four or five temporary ones. I suppose that means I am adventurous. Or maybe crazy.

Until next time,

- Maree  xo