We have lift off!

Monday 23rd March - T minus 5.  The removal team arrived bright and early to continue with the packing and worked like Trojans for hours on end until, in a final frenzy of wrapping paper and sticky tape,  (one of them remarking that in his 24 years in the business he didn't think he had ever packed so much kitchen china ... ahem) the Barlow lives were stacked in 135 brown boxes ready to be loaded into the container the next day. 

Thankfully, our good friends Jane & Sally had kindly offered to put us up for the rest of the week (a decision which they were probably regretting already) and so after loading up the car with 5 suitcases, 3 rucksacks, several holdalls and half the contents of the kitchen cupboards, we  descended on them like the house guests from hell, covering every available surface with 'stuff' within minutes of arrival and leaving a trail of havoc in our wake!  We seemed to need so much for just a few days ... Ethan's school uniform (as he still had a full week at school), conference phones, headsets and laptops (as Mr B had Town Halls to dial into in the U.S), not to mention all our suitcases and bags containing everything else we would need for the 6 weeks or so before our container arrived in Phoenix.  A neat freak's nightmare!

Tuesday 24th March - Moving Day.  After standing around like a spare part for hours on end the previous day ... a very cold spare part as apparently it is necessary to have both front and back doors wide open in order to pack boxes of kitchen china ... I was assured by Mr B that there was no need for us both to be at the house as they would just be loading the container, which would take hours, and that he was 'perfectly capable' of supervising that on his own.  Hmmmm, a tempting offer, especially as it was a cold and drizzly morning and the prospect of spending another day bored to death and freezing my butt off, was not the most attractive prospect.  I decided to take him up on the offer, sending him off with strict instructions to "check every cupboard and drawer twice over" to make sure nothing got left behind.  He gave me one of those 'durr ... I'm not stupid!' looks and set off, muttering something I couldn't quite catch under his breath but I'm sure I caught the words 'control freak' and 'Hitler' in there somewhere. Rude.

Later that afternoon he was back, reporting proudly that everything had been packed and loaded into the HUGE container, secured with wooden battens and sent off on it's way.  The next time we see it will be in Scottsdale (hopefully) ... in mid May! 

"Did you double check all the drawers and cupboards?"

**tuts loudly, raises eyes heavenward and adopts patronising tone** ... "Yehhhsss ... In fact four of us went round and checked every single room and cupboard" he added, clearly very pleased with himself.

Phew! Well, that's a relief.  All we need to do now is pop over tomorrow to do any last minute tidying up & say our farewells to the neighbours and then we can drop the keys in to the Letting Agent.  Fast forward 24 hours. Arrive at house. Open cupboard in bedroom ..........

Find full of clothes. **closes eyes and starts to count ... 1 ... 2 ... ** Nope not working ... FFS!!!! Let's just say if you happened to be in South Chailey, or probably even Lewes, on that morning, I am sure you will have heard the 'feedback' that Mr B got on his definition of 'perfectly capable'!  

After a couple more emotional days - saying goodbye to friends and family, teachers and school friends & attending the last end of term school service (well, ok, I could have lived without that if in honest)  - and all the weeks of planning, D-day was suddenly upon us!  Wait! - I'm not ready to go.....!!!! 

The taxi arrived promptly at 10am and after a journey round the M25 that Lewis Hamleton would have been proud of (note to self ... cross that firm off the list), we arrived at London Heathrow to a sea of people at check-in (damn, forgot it was also first day of Easter School holidays), a full flight, and to find that Mr B had been moved from his seat next to Ethan and I, to another one nowhere near! Apparently, as his was on a separate booking and they had not been linked, he was deemed to be travelling alone and therefore, as his original seat was right outside the cockpit, this had now been blocked for 'crew rest'? and he was moved downstairs. That's a new one on me.  We did wonder whether it may have had something to do with the recent plane crash in the French Alps and subsequent changes to regulations, but who knows!  Thankfully though, due to Mr B being super nice (see, still working on my Americanisms) to the cabin crew, after take off they advised that they had had a word with the pilot and the seat would not be needed on this flight after all and so he was allowed to move back. Odd. 

Still, all's well that ends well as they say .. although good job they didn't get to hear about our escapade in the BA Lounge beforehand where I led us down the Emergency Stairwell and then we had to bang on the door to get back in. Ahem.
"Oh don't worry" the kindly BA host advised. "You're not the first ..." Ha! Vindicated. Apparently we were the second ... in the 5 years that the lounge has been open. Oh.
What? It was an easy mistake to make and the signs were rubbish!  **coughs and walks away whistling**

The countdown clock is ticking ... T minus 6!

So, I am pleased to report that operation clear out is finally complete ... hallelujah ... and every cupboard, drawer and closet has been cleared to within an inch of it's life (how does one family collect so much crap?)  In addition to filling 12 bags for Marie Curie, Youngest also donated some of his games/toys to the Chailey Bonfire Society jumble sale, so hopefully two worthy charities will benefit - one from which we have enjoyed many fabulous firework displays over the last 9 years and the other, well, let's hope we never need the services of the other but hopefully our small contribution will go towards helping those who do ... "there but for the grace of God ..."

One of our closest friends, Adam, also arrived to help Mr B with the final stage of the clear out ... the garden shed and the garage (I don't do spiders  ... or mud ... yuk) and help with trips to the tip, although I think it was me who needed the  'help' by the time they had finished ... and letting him have the second cup of coffee was definitely a bad idea ... think Tigger on speed ...!

Not that much made it to the tip mind you.  The conversation seemed to go along the lines of
"What are you doing with that?"
"Taking it to the tip"
"I'll have it.  What about that? ..."
"Tip"
"I'll have it.  Can I have another coffee?"

At one point I looked out of the window and caught them loitering by the hedge looking shifty.  When I asked what they were doing, they immediately reverted to a couple of naughty schoolboys responding firstly with a " ... erm .... nothing ...", closely followed by "...it was his idea" and "he made me do it ..."!  Turns out they had emptied out the contents of Youngest's old sand pit (yes, it had been there that long) under one of the hedges and were now trying to conceal the contents hoping I wouldn't notice.  Not a chance.  Needless to say they were instructed to get it shifted again pronto, before it became the biggest cat toilet in Chailey!

Mr B has also had his last day in the UK office and officially started his shiny new US role (albeit virtually for now).  His team gave him a lovely send off, including lots of cards, generous gifts and even a poem - I think he was genuinely touched.

... poem written by one of the team

... a Brighton & Hove Albion shirt 

and my personal favourite ...

So ...  Operation Pack has now begun and a team of Packers from the Relocation company arrived yesterday to get started ..... OMG, it's really happening ... gulp!  I was feeling quite chilled when they arrived, having some notion that I would just leisurely direct them to specific areas of each room that were ready to be packed and it would all be quite civilised.  What was I thinking?!!!  They advised us to move everything that we didn't want to be packed to the 'safe room' or mark with a 'Do not Pack' sticker and then proceeded to move through the house like a plague of locusts packing everything that wasn't stickered or nailed down.  I was scared to stand still for too long in case I ended up wrapped in brown paper with a 'To be Crated' label stuck to my forehead!

They will be back on Monday to finish up and then it will all be loaded onto the container to start it's long journey across the pond.  Let's just hope it's not booked on the Titanic.

An Interview with Uncle Sam

Well, The Big Countdown has begun with less than 2 weeks to go before we bid au revoir (not goodbye) to Sussex and head off to sunny Scottsdale. Yikes!

Things are finally beginning to fall into place at last ... temporary accommodation on arrival confirmed, an official acceptance from Youngest's school and most importantly, Visas received.  Phew!  The latter though, was not to be achieved without considerable effort and inconvenience ...

Last week's debacle with the photos (in case you missed it you can read about that here) was just one piece of the Visa puzzle, as in addition to completing the myriad of forms and submitting online applications (which took around half an hour per person with no way of adding the same information just once ... sigh), an 'interview' en famille at the US Embassy in London was apparently also required.  Groan.  The first available appointment was for the end of the following week, but as Youngest would still be in the middle of his school exams which he was not able to miss, we had to pass on that one and select an alternative, which turned out to be early on a Monday morning some 8 days later.  Great.  As the instructions clearly stated that we had to be there at least 30 minutes before our scheduled slot, it meant that in addition to Youngest having to have a day off school (which he was obviously gutted about) we would also have to get up at stupid o'clock to get an early train into London.  Oh good.  Just how I like to spend a Monday morning ... standing on a crowded train for an hour jammed next to some bloke with halitosis and a bad case of body odour (they always stand next to me).  Thankfully though, on this occasion we were all lucky enough to find seats and pretty soon Team Barlow had adopted the commuter persona ... heads buried in various devices, ear buds in and avoiding eye contact with any other passengers at all costs.  That is until we approached East Croydon, and the woman who had been sitting opposite, stood up and made her way to the door.  Why on earth she thought it would be better to make a phone call to what became obvious as her grandson's school in a deathly silent train carriage (the minute she started talking you could have heard a pin drop), rather than waiting a few more minutes until she had actually got off is beyond me, but the conversation went something like this (names have been changed to protect those involved ... clearly not a consideration for said passenger!)

"Hello ... it's Sarah here, Billy's nan.  I am just phoning to let you know that the childminder, Elaine Johnson, will be dropping Billy off in the morning and collecting him after school from now on ..... sorry, what? ... I can't hear you very well, I'm on a train.  **Increases volume by several decibels** Yes ... ELAINE JOHNSON ....  I have given her the password ... cucumber ... what? ... yes, that's right ... CUCUMBER".  **entire carriage collapses into fits of giggles** So ...  that was her name, her grandson's name, the childminders name and the security password all given away in the space of a few minutes to a carriage packed full of commuters!  Good grief.  This still causes much amusement to Youngest who delights in shouting "CUCUMBER!" any time anybody mentions 'Password' :D

After a short taxi ride from Victoria ... **snorts** I actually think the walk from the train to the taxi rank at Victoria took longer than the actual journey.  And what's with those footprints directing you along that big blue line?  I bumped into at least 3 people whilst I was looking down at those ... we arrived at Grosvenor Square and the U.S Embassy (on top of which perched the weirdest looking eagle I have ever seen).

We were a good 45 minutes early but already a long queue had formed in front of a white 'tent' structure outside the main entrance.  In fact there were two queues ... you needed to join the first to register your arrival with said tent and have your name ticked off a very long list, (the poor chap in front of us had turned up a day too early and was duly sent away again ... doh!) and then go to the back of the second to pass through the security screening and onward entrance into the building.  Groan.  Did I ever mention how much I HATE queuing?

All in all I guess we were queuing for around 40 minutes - thank goodness is wasn't raining or I would not have been amused.  I did feel slightly sorry for the Geordie girl in front of us though as she stood shivering in the quite frankly ridiculous outfit she had chosen for a cold February morning ... skimpy chiffon blouse,  thin jacket, bare feet and sky high heels ... all teamed with a bright orange tan a la Strictly.  (Oh God. I have turned into my mother).  We subsequently gleaned she was due to join the staff of a cruise ship ... ah, that explains that then.   After passing through the security screening and finally  into the warmth of the main embassy building, we were given a numbered ticket and directed to another crowded waiting area where we were to wait... with the millions of others... until our ticket number flashed onto one of the digital screens and we were directed to an interview window.  Think Post Office on pension day only a hundred times worse.   After another 40 minutes or so, and what seemed like the longest game of Bingo ever, our number finally flashed up and it was all I could do to contain myself and had to be prevented from standing up and shouting "House!".  Oh well, I suppose that wasn't too bad all in all.  Huh ... turns out I know nothing!  After presenting paperwork, passports, forms and having our fingerprints taken (which Youngest had been looking forward to immensely but which, disappointingly for him, were not required), we were directed to the waiting area AGAIN to wait for our number to be called a second time.  Seriously?!   Could they make this more long winded?!  After another half an hour or so of mind numbing boredom, we were finally called to another window for the 'interview' which consisted of a handful of  questions about Mr B's job, the answers to which were all written on the forms we had just handed over (?), directed to the cashier's window to hand over the fee and then informed that our passports/visas would be returned within the week ... all of which took precisely three minutes.  Jeeeez!  (just practicing my Americanisms for when I get there).

Finally, I know you are all dying to know about the photographs that caused so much hassle the previous week ... were they the right size?  was the background the correct colour? were our heads the prescribed size and in the correct position?  I have no idea as nobody bl**dy well asked for them!!  Cheers for that.

Friday the 13th ...unlucky for some!

I have never really been that superstitious about Friday 13th and it has usually come and gone without incident.  That is until last month.

Having returned from our recent 'fact finding' mission to Phoenix, we were now able to progress with the next stage of the Visa process and instructions from the immigration team at Mr B's office duly arrived shortly after.

Let's see ... complete online application ... make appointment for interview at US Embassy ... take along the attached small-rainforest-worth of forms in triplicate...
"... you will also need to provide a passport type photograph 1.5" x 1.5" ..."  Ah, right, that's OK ... I have some spare photos from the recent passport debacle. I'll just get those out now ...   Oh.  They measure 1.5" x 1.75".  Wonder if that would be OK?  Better check out the US Embassy website just in case.  Here we are ... photos .... "photos must be 2" x 2" square with a white background..." Brilliant. After checking and double checking all the other information in case anything else was different, I also discovered that we would each require a digital photo to be submitted with the online application as well as taking the actual photo to the interview at the US Embassy in London.  Good grief.

Right, well let's not panic.  I am sure I have seen a photo booth in Sainsbury's that advertises Visa pictures, so that will be OK .. we can just pop in there and get those done over the weekend.  Ah, but then how are we going to get the digital copies?  Hmm ... Ha! Got it! I can just scan them in with that old scanner we have had lying about for ages and hardly ever used.  In fact, come to think of it we haven't used it since we changed our home computer from a ...... Windows ... to a Mac .... oh God. After another hour rummaging through the mountain of CDs at the back of the cupboard containing enough installation drivers to power NASA ... Eureka! ... I managed to find the one for the Scanner which proclaimed 'suitable for PC and Mac'.  Yesssssss!  Helpfully, as our Mac does not have an integrated disc drive, more time had to be spent locating and connecting the external one.  Right.  Finally.  Now, if I just insert the disc and quickly install the driver we should be in business.  Wrong. Computer says Noooooo.  A rather shouty error message kindly informed me that this would in fact not be possible.  Cheers. Thanks a lot.

Deep breath ... count to 10 ... think ...  there must be places that you can go to that will take the photo and also provide you with a digital copy.  Yes, of course!  That's what we'll do.  After determining that there was one such place in Brighton just across from hubby's office, he was duly instructed to go and get his done at lunchtime.  Meanwhile, as Youngest had an appointment with the Orthodontist later that day in Haywards Heath I figured that if we could find somewhere nearby that also did Visa pictures then we could get that done at the same time.  A quick Google search informed me that Timpsons in Haywards Heath offered such a service.  Really?  The shoe repairers?  Hmmm, better just ring and check.

"Hi.  Do you do ID photos for US Visas?"
"Yes Madam"
"Oh good.  And it would be on a white background right?"
"Well, technically it's light grey, which is the standard for all passport pictures."
"Yes, but it's not a passport picture.  It's for a US Visa, which stipulates a white background?"
"Oh no,  you'll be fine.  They are all on a grey background now."
"Oh OK.  Can you also provide a digital copy?"
"Er ... yes, we should be able to do that"
"Er ... You don't sound very sure?"
"Oh yes. We can definitely do that"

With visions of a Catherine Tate sketch planted firmly in my mind, I set off to collect Youngest from school for his first appointment with the Orthodontist (we had only been waiting since last August).
After a pre-appointment with the practice administrator, who went on to explain very matter-of-factly that if he did indeed require treatment the current NHS waiting time was 2 years (WHAT??? we could  have gone and come back by then!).  Lack of NHS funding apparently.  I have never heard anything so ridiculous in my life!  We finally got to see the man himself, who was very pleasant, however, once he discovered we were going to be moving decided it would not be worth starting anything here and we should take Youngest to an Orthodontist in the US once we had settled in.  Bloody Hell!

Next stop, Timpsons (and clearly not in the best of moods by now).
"Hi.  I called earlier regarding some US Visa photos?"
"Oh yes, that's right.  I'll be right with you"
He finished off heeling the shoe he was repairing (that should have been a red light right there) and came out from behind the counter with camera in hand.  Photos were taken (requiring several attempts) and 6 x printed copies handed over (we only needed one, and the top two had half our heads chopped off, but never mind).  Hmm, the background was a dark grey and the head almost filled the whole picture.
"Erm ... I think there are quite strict criteria on size and position of the head.  I'm not sure these are correct?" I said.   Shoe man gave a cocky sneer and replied in a condescending tone  ...
"Of course they are.  The machine does it all automatically."  He may as well have added the implied "... dur!"
After another wait whilst he worked out how to get said pictures on to a disc, muttering "sorry to keep you, it's the first time I have done one of these ..."  he handed it over and we left, not exactly inspired with confidence.

Youngest was duly deposited back at school **grumbling that it was hardly worth it for just an afternoon AND it was Friday...** whilst I headed back home to upload the photos.  I inserted the disc into the drive and waited for the photos to appear ... and waited ... and waited.  Once again ... the computer said Noooooo.  That would be because the disc was completely blank and contained absolutely no data.  Nothing.  Zip. Nada.  I also re-checked the printed photo against the criteria for the image size again on the website and determined that they were indeed too big and therefore 'unacceptable'.  I think it was at this point that I seriously considered whether I should just open the Vodka and give up.

In a scene reminiscent of something from an episode of Benny Hill (yes, I am that old), I got back in the car and drove the 20 minutes back to Haywards Heath to pay another visit to my friend at Timpsons.  Let's see if he is still as cocky by the time I have finished with him!  Helpfully, it was now pouring with rain and so by the time I had walked from the car park to the shop, not only was I
severely ticked off but also soaking wet to boot.  A few (choice) words and one refund later, I returned home congratulating myself on the remarkable restraint I had shown in Timpsons, managing to refrain from inserting said CD into a slot of a very different kind ... Let's just hope he is better at mending shoes.

So let's see, what had I actually managed to achieve today? ... oh yes, that's right .... Nothing.

My mood was not improved later that evening when Mr B returned home smugly presenting his 2"x2" photo, perfectly proportioned complete with white background, and an email with the digital copy, which apparently had taken him all of 20 minutes from start to finish.  You can go off some people.

Suffice to say that on Saturday morning we were all off to said shop in Brighton to start again (Colourstream in James Street if you ever find yourself needing one - can highly recommend).   A very pleasant chap took our photos with speed and efficiency and we were advised that we could collect 20 minutes later.   Given that the shop was situated two doors down from Starbucks, we whiled away the time over a cappuccino & a hot chocolate (which apparently was 'waaaaay better' than mine) whilst observing the local wildlife inhabitants of James Street.  Before we had even finished our drinks the digital photos arrived in my Inbox and we collected perfect prints 5 minutes later.  

Finally ... another successful mission accomplished ... well, apart from me sprinkling cinnamon all over my cappuccino instead of chocolate, but that's another story!

Come back next week to find out how we got on at the Visa interview!

Scouting round Scottsdale - Part 2

So, where did we get to last time ... ah yes ... houses.

We were collected from our hotel by a lovely lady called Merylee, who was to be our guide for the day and take us on a tour of the area as well as meeting with a local Realtor that she had worked with to arrange for us to view a sample of houses.  Clearly it was still a little early for us to secure a specific property as yet, as even after we have arrived at the end of March, our furniture will not be arriving for another 4-6 weeks.  Even so, it was really useful to see what fell within our budget and to give us an idea of what we liked and more importantly, didn't like, so I was really looking forward to it.

For a city in the middle of the Sonoran Desert, it was remarkably green and there were lots of parks and cycle tracks (I won't be using those).  Phoenix also has more than 150 golf courses apparently (I won't be using those either), and as we were driving around it felt like there was one on every corner!   Luckily, there was also an abundance of shopping malls, so never fear dear reader, my hobby is also catered for ... phew!

McCormick Ranch Golf Course

From a residential perspective, we had decided to focus mainly on the Scottsdale area as this would work for both the commute to school for Youngest and also the office for Mr B, and so most of the properties we were viewing fell within this location.  All of the houses we looked at were BIG, with large outside spaces and pools, and varied in age.  Some of the older properties had equally dated kitchens and bathrooms ... manky ... however, some had been refurbished to a very high standard and so whilst we had initially discounted older properties it was useful to look at a sample of these and as a result, will definitely keep an open mind when we are looking at final choices.  Many of the outside spaces had HUGE covered patio areas, big enough to accommodate almost another whole room full of furniture, complete with ceiling fans and grills (BBQs to us!)  Others did not have much shade at all, which will be an important factor for us unacclimatised Brits as temperatures can regularly reach 120ºF+ during the summer months ... gulp!  (I remarked to Merylee that one of the things I would miss about the UK was the seasons, however she informed me that they had 3 seasons in Phoenix ... Hot, Hotter and Hottest ... not helping).  The garden of one property we looked backed onto 'scrubland' and had large metal railings at the back with the lower half covered in wire mesh ... ah, probably to stop their dog getting out, I thought, until the Realtor advised it was probably more to stop things getting in.  What?!  
"What kind of things?  Snakes?!?"
**throws head back and laughs** "Ha! No. That wouldn't keep a snake out."  Oh joy. "It's probably for coyotes ..." OMG!  **hyperventilates**  ... think happy thoughts ... lollipops & rainbows & unicorns ... !  I am sooo going to have to 'man-up' when we move out here.

One of the homes we viewed (with the coyote proof fence!) 

All in all it was a really fun day, made all the more so because it turned out that Merylee and I have the same sense of humour, which to be fair was mainly at the expense of poor Mr B (no change there then ...  although I have to say he didn't really help himself when, as we were leaving one property,  Merylee and I looked around for him wondering where he had got to and found him sitting in the back of the wrong car! Bless).

Even the cacti were friendly!

In the evening we met up with a couple of friends and ex-colleagues of mine.  It has been more than 8 years since we worked together, however, we have kept in regular contact and even managed to meet up a few times over the years, despite one being in Phoenix, and the other in India (although for the past year now also in Phoenix).   Can't believe they will now be my neighbours!   It was so lovely to see them both and we spent a fun evening catching up and reminiscing - I haven't laughed so much in ages and it will be so nice to be able to see more of them once we move :)

The next day was our final day in Phoenix before flying back to tell Youngest all about it and show him the many pictures we had been instructed to take for him!   Just time for the obligatory trip to Walmart to complete the outstanding items on our shopping list ... Advil, check ... Shout Wipes, check ... OPI nail varnish, check ... What?  that's an essential of every trip!  On the way back out to the car park  I realised that Marcus was not with me ... where on earth had he got to this time?! Then I spotted him, talking to an elderly gentleman by the door.  Apparently the old boy was complimenting Mr B on his shoes, which were a 'pointy toe' style and ones which I have always been convinced curl up every so slightly at the end (resembling something that Aladdin might wear on his magic carpet **snort!** ... a feature strenuously denied by Mr B of course).  Being too polite to just thank him and walk on, Mr B had now got himself trapped in one of those 'I used to be stationed in England during the war' conversations where the old boy had now moved on to reciting a list of names of people he had met there in the hope that Mr B might know some of them (an all too common occurrence in our  experience!).  I left him trying to edge his way along the car park, with the old boy following along behind, still in full flow, (think they were onto politics by this point), whilst I went to wait by the car tittering to myself.   I once had a similar conversation whilst on holiday in the US with a sweet elderly couple who were regaling me with tales of their trip to England many years earlier, when they had visited a 'quaint little town' around 'the middle' somewhere.  "Now, what was its called Betty?" ...  Oxford?  No.  Stratford-upon-Avon?  No.  The Cotswolds? No ..... "oh yes, I remember now .... Wales!"

As we were packing up in our hotel room, I noticed a (very) large kind of screen tucked away behind the door.  What on earth is that for?  Oh ... it seems to be on a sliding rail ... and oh, look ... there's another one behind it ... what happens if you slide it all the way along? ...... Ah ... it closes off the bathroom and toilet.  Right.

Scouting round Scottsdale - Part 1

Earlier this month, Mr B and I flew out to Phoenix for a few days to have a look at our shortlisted schools for Youngest and then based on the outcome of that, try and decide on a residential district that would work for both the drive to school and Mr B's office.   It was a full on itinerary with appointments made to visit 3 schools, 7 houses and also a tour of the area in the 3 days we were there.  The parents of one of Youngest's school friends had kindly offered to have him whilst we were away (an option he quickly endorsed once he had determined that he would not be able to lie by the pool all day with a games console.  Funny that.) so we were all set.

After a smooth flight that seemed to be over much quicker than its ten and a half hours (yes, really) we arrived at Phoenix Sky Harbor Internstional Airport just as the sun was starting to go down.   The immigration line was short ... when we joined it ... however, within minutes a never ending line of wheelchair users seemed to appear from nowhere, accompanied by porters who had clearly played this game before and who bustled them (and their huge entourages) to the front of the queue as soon as a window became free.  We were going nowhere fast.   Feeling a little tired, given the 7 hour time difference, this began to get increasingly irritating, especially when one of only three officers went off for their tea break leaving the queue to 'Brian the Snail' and 'Terry the Tortoise'.  Grrrrr! Some 45 minutes later, **sigh** we finally cleared immigration and made our way to the luggage carousel to collect our bag.  Thankfully, it was already there and so within minutes we were out into the main arrivals hall.  OMG!  It was a zoo out there! Due to the Superbowl having taken place in Phoenix the day before plus a huge snowstorm affecting the East Coast which had delayed flights, the airport was heaving.  Ugh! Out of the way people - tired, irritable, psychopath coming through!

Now, Mr B, clearly forgetting we were not in fact off on a family holiday for a fortnight when he booked the rental car, had requested a small SUV (no, I don't know why either).  What we actually collected, (courtesy of the agent at Hertz who had upgraded it as the other one didn't have a GPS), was a Dodge Durango.   It was HUGE and big enough to accommodate a tribe of Pygmies, never mind the two of us ... for 3 days ... with one small suitcase.

After several arguments with the woman on the GPS, who refused to acknowledge that the road we were looking for even existed, she was eventually beaten into submission and we set off for the hotel (although I swear I detected an air of truculance about her voice after that). We finally arrived at around 8pm (3am UK if you're interested) and as we got out of the car (with our one bag) I managed to avoid making eye contact with the Doorman who had opened the boot in search of the other 20 suitcases that a car of this size clearly warranted and hot footed it to Reception leaving him scratching his head and looking puzzled.

The W Hotel Scottsdale was a very modern affair, obviously geared towards the young trendy set, (ahem) and the bedrooms were equally unconventional.  It was one big open plan affair with the bed situated in the middle of the room and the shower, washbasin and toilet cubicle down one side.  How strange, I thought.  I suppose it's OK if you are here on your own on business but surely a tad embarrassing if you were sharing a room and you weren't brilliant at whistling?  Very odd.  Oh well, after unpacking (our one bag) we decided it was still too early to go to bed and that we had better try and stay awake for at least another hour, so we decided to head back down to the bar for a swift nightcap.  Oh, has there been a power cut? I thought as we made our way into the dimly lit bar, only narrowly avoiding flying head first into into the lap of the couple seated on the equally dark sofas ahead.  It appeared not.  Another current trend apparently.   Clearly, I was coming down with something .... I think it's called 'old'!

After an amazingly good night's sleep and a (very early) breakfast,  we set off to visit the first school on our list.  From the research we had been able to do online, this seemed to be closest to the one Youngest currently attends in the UK, and we had also established that it was the only school in the area offering the International Baccalaureat (IB) programme which was a key consideration, making any transition back to the UK that much easier should this be necessary before he completes High School.

After yet another argument with Sulky Sat Nav ... what is her problem? ... we eventually found the school.  We received an extremely warm and friendly welcome, (although I was slightly unnerved by the Security Guard who greeted us at the door), saw happy children and motivated and engaged staff who seemed to have a genuine interest in their pupils.  We met the Principal who spent over half an hour with us, asking lots of question about Youngest and offering suggestions of activities he might like and which pupils he might have a lot in common with etc.  So far so good.  The premises were fairly new and featured state of the art facilities and equipment, including some really cool desks designed by Apple and an impressive IT suite.  We also observed a class of 8th Grade students in the middle of their Media Arts class who were filming a remake of the Star Wars movie  ... complete with green screen, full costumes and lightsabers, not to mention an equally enthusiastic teacher! As it is a fee paying school, there was the usual 'sales pitch' which we had been expecting, however, we did not feel pressured in any way and overall we were very impressed.  I think Youngest would LOVE it here!

Loved these cool 'wheelie' desks to facilitate more creative classroom layouts & group work 

The next school on our list was located in one of the most expensive neighbourhoods and situated in a quiet residential area.  Another impressive campus with lots of space.   Once inside however, the experience proved to be a very different one to that which we had experienced the day before.  After a short chat with the Assistant Director of Admissions in his office, during which time we recapped moving dates/timelines etc. and the grade we were enquiring about for Youngest, we were taken on a brief tour of the school.  Well, some of the school ... mostly the High School ... despite the fact that we would be looking for registration into the Middle School, which was a bit odd.  Our guide was keen to talk about a recent $2M donation they had recently received, which was going to be used to build a new state of the art Sports Hall (for the Senior School) and also to showcase their new Aquatic Centre, which was indeed impressive and HUGE!  I think I have seen smaller pools at Sea World! Mr B asked if he could take a picture ... "of course!" he was told, although not sure my comment of "... just wait for Shamu to come up before you take it ..." was entirely appreciated (well it made me laugh).  I don't think they are going to get my sense of humour in the US ...!  I could see Mr B's eyes lighting up at all the fabulous sporting facilities as we continued on our tour, however, had to remind him that we were looking for a school for our son (who would quite frankly rather poke red hot pokers in his eyes than participate in any kind of sport) and not for him!

The school Aquatic Centre (the pool at the front was just the 'practice' pool!)

We visited other common areas such as the existing sports hall, auditorium and library, but did not see any classrooms or students, other than those outside during break.  We did not meet the Principal, nor any of the teachers, and once the tour was completed we were taken back to the office and asked "what other questions do you have?" but asked nothing about our son, what kind of a boy he was, what he might have to offer and more importantly what they could offer him! There was a distinct undertone of 'we don't really need your money (as clearly we were not in the $2M donation bracket) ... this is the school ... take it or leave it'.  Well, we will be leaving it thank you very much!

The final school on our list was a public charter school, which I think is similar to some of the Academy schools that are being set up over here, in that they are Government funded but run by private groups rather than the local council.  The school was set on a large church campus and whilst independent from the church, rented the buildings from them, which were essentially blocks of concrete classrooms and appeared to lack many of the facilities we had seen at the previous two.  We struggled to work out where the Reception was and when we saw the door to what was essentially a large shed, propped open, we wandered over to see if we could find somebody to ask.   Oh.  That was Reception.  The smiley lady behind the desk welcomed us in and we were shown to a round table at the back of the 'shed' behind smiley reception lady.  We were then given an overview of the 'school administration and the lottery admission process' from the Office Manager, however, when we asked questions regarding the academic syllabus, we were politely informed that whilst she was very knowledgeable on the admission process,  smiley lady from reception would be able to answer any of those questions as "she was a parent with 3 children at the school" .... :/  **Erm ... Taxi for Barlow ....** Smiley Lady (who had clearly been earwigging), wheeled her chair over and proceeded to describe her children's school day, which was divided into 6 lessons per day, and which clubs and activities they engaged in after school etc.
"What about homework?" I asked. "How much do they usually get on average?"
"Oh it's not much in 8th Grade.  They get around half an hour per subject each evening".
"Oh right, that doesn't sound too bad.  How many subjects a night?"  She looked at me slightly confused.
"Er ... 6".   Sorry, what???  For a minute there I thought she meant that they had homework from every single lesson, every single day...  which would be 3 hours a day ... haha! Silly me! I must have got that wrong.  Apparently not.
"But it's OK though, because they get one weekend per month when they are not set any homework so they can relax".  Ah, well, that's alright then.   Also, there is half an hour 'free' time after lunch apparently which kids can use to start their homework instead of hanging out with their friends.  Of course there is.  Add to this the fact that there is no sport or PE as part of the school day, these are all after school 'clubs' that students sign up for if they are interested in playing (in addition to the 3 hours of homework); similarly for Art, Music etc.  When do these poor kids get to chill out and just be ... kids?  It seemed more like a Navy Seal training camp than a school! The final nail in the coffin was the discovery that IT was not part of the syllabus either.   I think we will be crossing this one off the list as well!

So, that concluded our school visits and thankfully our initial first choice was still top of our list - let's hope Youngest likes it as much as we did!

Next on the agenda ... houses ... but I will save that for Part 2.  Hope to see you again next week - same time, same place, same bat channel ...!

The BIG News and a trip to Her Majesty's Passport Office

A couple of months ago, Mr B came home from work and announced
"I've been offered a new job at work".
"Oh really? That's nice.  What is it?"
Turns out the question I should have been asking was 'Where is it?' as the answer to that turned out to be ..... Phoenix.  Yes, Phoenix.  The one in Arizona.
So, after much deliberation and discussion, it's official.  Team Barlow is packing up and will be swopping the lush green fields of Sussex for the deserts of Arizona at the end of March.  Gulp.

The first challenge was when to initiate the visa application as we had been advised that this could take up to 8 weeks to complete and no travel could be undertaken until the process was complete.  As we were planning a trip to Phoenix to complete the due diligence on schools before the application deadline and also view potential residential areas at the beginning of February, we were advised to hold off and complete the visa application as soon as we returned to the UK.  OK, phew, so no worries there then.  Wait  ... **gets to bottom of email version of War and Peace from Immigration team and notices final sentence**

"...  passports will need to be valid for the length of your Visa (3 years) and at least 6 months after your Visa expires otherwise it can cause problems with immigration when you are travelling ...."

Sorry, what?!  Brilliant.  That will be a trip to the Passport office in London then.  Never mind, I haven't been to London for ages. I am sure there will be some lovely shops for me to while away a few hours in. I could make a day of it!  Now, let's see ... where actually is the passport office I wonder?  Oh. Right next to Victoria Station.  Never mind.

Helpfully, my appointment was for 11.45 am, which given that I couldn't collect said passport until 4 hours later, meant that I would have to hang around until at least 4pm.  In Victoria.  Fabulous.  Still, I could go and have some lunch and then perhaps have a walk up to Buckingham Palace and St James Park.  I haven't been there for years!

The day of the appointment dawned and whilst there was not a cloud in the sky, it was also 2°C and freezing!!! Being keen to ensure that I didn't miss the train, I had vastly overestimated the time required to get to the station, park and collect my ticket, and was consequently forced to spend 25 minutes sitting on a bitterly cold and windy platform.  I amused myself with a bit of people watching ...  good grief, has that woman seen what she is wearing?  Where on earth can she be going on a Tuesday morning dressed in a purple velvet hat with half a greenhouse attached to it? ... and pondering the merits of Network Rail's tinkling notification bell (reminiscent of Gladys Pugh in Hi-de-Hi) which advises that a fast train is approaching about a nanosecond before it actually belts past at 100mph.  After an hour of comfort that only a train journey on the Brighton to London line can provide, i.e. standing room only, with some geek's laptop jabbing me in the ribs, in an overly heated carriage  (not helped by the fact that I was dressed for an Arctic expedition in anticipation of walking round Victoria for 4 hours in the freezing cold), I arrived in Victoria ... 35 minutes early.

I spotted a Starbucks not far off and so decided to grab myself a warming cappuccino, with extra chocolate sprinkles obvs, and take a slow walk back to Her Majesty's Passport Office.  Despite the vain attempts to communicate my name correctly to the barista of Eastern European origin, my coffee was still delivered with with the now familiar cup marking ... Beth. Sigh.

The actual appointment was surprisingly on time and trouble free and so once I had handed over the extortionate fee at the cashier's desk I descended the two flights of stairs and started out of the building.  Ooooh, hang on a minute, better make a trip to the loo before I leave given that I have 4 hours to waste walking the streets of London.
"Excuse me.  Could you tell me where the toilets are?"
"Yes Miss (he will be on my Christmas card list). Up those stairs on the 2nd floor. Opposite the cashier's desk".  Oh good.  I re climbed the stairs I had just descended and barrelled into the Ladies, noting that it could do with a good clean (and quite frankly a squirt of air freshener wouldn't have gone amiss either).  I recall thinking how unusual it was to have several child size basins on the wall at a lower level.  How many toddlers are they expecting in here?  As I came out of the cubicle (having taken great care not to touch anything whilst I was in there and carefully balancing my bag on my knee ... no mean feat when dressed as Scott of the Antarctic I can tell you) I noticed a man washing his hands at one of the basins.  Tutting loudly, I was just about to inform him that he might well want to be making an appointment at Specsavers,  when a horrific thought began to dawn.  Perhaps those weren't child basins after all ...   Oh God!  Quick decision required ... should I just style it out and continue to the washbasin as if nothing was amiss or should I just bolt and run?  I opted for the latter.  When I finally emerged from the 'proper' Ladies next door, ahem ... (well, honestly, they could have made the dress on the sign a bit bigger) I glanced up and noticed two of the Cashiers opposite, who had clearly noticed my earlier error, nudging each other and guffawing into their tills.  Time to make a hasty exit I think!

Right, so, only another 4 hours to wait.  Ooh, look ... Marks &Spencer ... maybe I'll pop in there for some lunch.  After purchasing myself a pot of tea, a cheese and ham toastie and a piece of carrot cake (what?  I had to stretch it out as long as possible didn't I?), I sat myself down at a table to mind my own business.  Clearly not a trait observed by the elderly gentleman who sat himself down at the table next to me.
"Are you going to eat all that?"  Is he talking to me?
"Sorry?  The sandwich?"
"Well, yes ... and the cake"
"Well, yes, I was planning to"
"Oh.  Not on a diet then?"
 Bloody cheek!  (Must have been all the layers I was wearing ... ahem).  Why is it that old people think that they can just say whatever they like?  My 88 year old Mum is exactly the same.  She once looked down at another lady's shoes who was sitting next to us in a cafe and said very loudly "Ughh. How can people wear shoes like that? Aren't they ugly?".  I almost choked on my tea! #nofilter.  Whilst we are on the subject of tea, do servers in M&S these days not know the difference between a milk jug and a cup? What's up with that? Honestly!

Feeling guilty after eating a sandwich AND cake under the scrutiny of 'The Weight Watcher', I figured it was time for a walk and set off towards Buckingham Palace.  Helpfully, it was at this precise moment that my phone battery decided to run out ... thanks so much ... and so unable to seek out directions, it was only after a very long detour that I arrived at The Mall.  I strolled round St James's Park, wandered along Birdcage Walk and stopped to watch the Queen's Guard going through their paces at Wellington Barracks, before finally arriving at the Palace itself.  I had forgotten how beautiful it actually is and how lucky we are to live so close to all of this incredible history that tourists travel thousands of miles to see.  Ooh look, the flag's flying so she must be in residence. Wonder if she's in?  I could murder a cuppa and a sit down - my feet are killing me (bet she would also have a proper milk jug).

Cold and fed up I decided that it must easily be close to 4pm by now (not being able to check my phone for the time) and so took a slow walk back towards Victoria.  As I approached the Passport office, I looked around for a clock in case I was a few minutes early.  Ah yes, here's one .... 2.35pm!!!!  Oh come on! Another cappuccino and the longest half an hour in history looking through the magazine rack in WHSmith later, I was finally able to collect my shiny new passport and head back home.  Mission accomplished.  Ethan Hunt would be proud.