Following on...
Dare I mention the CRICKET? Oh, I think so!
The wider issue I suppose as a wannabe Australian Permanent Resident is which team(s) one ought to support. If one is truly intent on assimilating to a new country then at what point, if ever, does or must such an allegiance switch? Sport is the ultimate test, really. The ideas of changing over passports, pensions and even changing one's accent are all open to consideration in this household, but could we ever not support England at cricket? That could prove a step too far - let's hope the question doesn't come up in an immigration interview.
The compromise of course is, that as the H was born here, he has been deemed by both of us (although not by the government*) to be a fully fledged Aussie. So we've been able to feel pleased for him if Australia wins anything, and to commiserate with him if they lose. "Sorry mate, your team's not doing so well!" we say, and he chatters back in babblish, probably with some flimsy excuse about dodgy LBW decisions. Let's hope he's not in for too much more crushing disappointment with the Australia/Solomon Islands soccer game next week.
Actually D goes rigid with fury every time I say soccer instead of football. But "football" here in Perth generally means AFL (Aussie Rules). A week after I first arrived in Perth I wobbled along to my first ever "antenatal" group get-together. I had no idea what I would find, as I was culturally out of my depth both as a pregnant person and as a newcomer to the country. I vaguely expected a lot of chat about swollen ankles and chocolate cravings. Instead I sat bemused while a group of well-groomed thirty-something women held a detailed discussion about the cable tv package available in the labour suite and whether it gave you access to the Foxtel Footy channel or not. And whether you could persuade your obstetrician to schedule a caesarian section with careful forethought to the timing of the forthcoming Eagles/Dockers derby.
When I was a week away from giving birth, and was the size of an entire team in any sport, I went along to watch an Aussie Rules game, thanks to a very considerate friend who secured us entry to the VIP suite where I was able to beach myself like a whale on a bank of chairs and watch the game in comfort. It's an exciting and fast moving game to watch, and not for the faint hearted to play. The guys I was watching made Premier League soccer look like lawn bowls, and I soon realised why there are so many sports physiotherapists in Australia - the toll from that match alone included a broken collarbone, a broken foot and a dislocated hip. Mental motherly note: mustn't allow the H to play anything rougher than tiddlywinks for at least twenty years.
*Unlike the USA, a baby born in Australia has no rights at all to citizenship in the country of his/her birth. One of the first things I had to do after the H was born was to procure a British passport for him, which included the interesting challenge of persuading a three-week old baby to pose for a passport photo that met stringent requirements. Then I had to sort out a temporary resident's visa to go in the passport before we were able to travel back to the UK last Christmas, or else I would not have been allowed to bring him back into Australia on our return. In the course of all the associated paperwork, the H received letters from DIMIA warning him about the consequences of partaking in terrorist activities. I frequently have cause to remind him of these warnings when he is engaged in terrorising us.
The wider issue I suppose as a wannabe Australian Permanent Resident is which team(s) one ought to support. If one is truly intent on assimilating to a new country then at what point, if ever, does or must such an allegiance switch? Sport is the ultimate test, really. The ideas of changing over passports, pensions and even changing one's accent are all open to consideration in this household, but could we ever not support England at cricket? That could prove a step too far - let's hope the question doesn't come up in an immigration interview.
The compromise of course is, that as the H was born here, he has been deemed by both of us (although not by the government*) to be a fully fledged Aussie. So we've been able to feel pleased for him if Australia wins anything, and to commiserate with him if they lose. "Sorry mate, your team's not doing so well!" we say, and he chatters back in babblish, probably with some flimsy excuse about dodgy LBW decisions. Let's hope he's not in for too much more crushing disappointment with the Australia/Solomon Islands soccer game next week.
Actually D goes rigid with fury every time I say soccer instead of football. But "football" here in Perth generally means AFL (Aussie Rules). A week after I first arrived in Perth I wobbled along to my first ever "antenatal" group get-together. I had no idea what I would find, as I was culturally out of my depth both as a pregnant person and as a newcomer to the country. I vaguely expected a lot of chat about swollen ankles and chocolate cravings. Instead I sat bemused while a group of well-groomed thirty-something women held a detailed discussion about the cable tv package available in the labour suite and whether it gave you access to the Foxtel Footy channel or not. And whether you could persuade your obstetrician to schedule a caesarian section with careful forethought to the timing of the forthcoming Eagles/Dockers derby.
When I was a week away from giving birth, and was the size of an entire team in any sport, I went along to watch an Aussie Rules game, thanks to a very considerate friend who secured us entry to the VIP suite where I was able to beach myself like a whale on a bank of chairs and watch the game in comfort. It's an exciting and fast moving game to watch, and not for the faint hearted to play. The guys I was watching made Premier League soccer look like lawn bowls, and I soon realised why there are so many sports physiotherapists in Australia - the toll from that match alone included a broken collarbone, a broken foot and a dislocated hip. Mental motherly note: mustn't allow the H to play anything rougher than tiddlywinks for at least twenty years.
*Unlike the USA, a baby born in Australia has no rights at all to citizenship in the country of his/her birth. One of the first things I had to do after the H was born was to procure a British passport for him, which included the interesting challenge of persuading a three-week old baby to pose for a passport photo that met stringent requirements. Then I had to sort out a temporary resident's visa to go in the passport before we were able to travel back to the UK last Christmas, or else I would not have been allowed to bring him back into Australia on our return. In the course of all the associated paperwork, the H received letters from DIMIA warning him about the consequences of partaking in terrorist activities. I frequently have cause to remind him of these warnings when he is engaged in terrorising us.
posted by MotherFluker @ 6:26 am
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