There’s only about four? months to go until we leave. We’ve just had it confirmed that we *will* be in Copenhagen, so yay … although I’m not sure for me if it would have made that much difference.

I don’t know why I’m not panicking yet though. I am the biggest worrier, even just for holidays, I worry about all the what ifs and maybes, so the thought of moving for 12 months should be enough to put me in the loony bin but I can’t even work up a sweat about it, even when I’m concentrating on it. I don’t know if it’s because I’m blocking it out, or if it’s so big my brain isn’t really comprehending it, or if I’m actually just excited about the experience.

We need to book tickets, I think we are going business class which is really exciting because WE GET PYJAMAS!!

And of course, being the only non-EU passport holder in the family, I need to organise visas and all of that. Grr. He asked me casually the other night “Were all of your grandparents born in Australia?” and I’m thinking, “what? Why are you asking me that?” and then the penny dropped. “You know, you have to believe me when I tell you I am NOT eligible for an EU passport. I’m just not. There’s no way it’s going to happen” … “oh, well … I just thought I’d check …”

Having just an Australian passport has caused us a few minor issues when traveling, that are usually resolved quickly when they realise I am married to a British citizen. Our first trip to the UK after Hugo was born, I was asked a huge list of questions. Hugo was a month old, we’d just been on a plane for 24 hours, I was trying to make sense of what they were asking me about why we were visiting because at that point, I was seriously wondering myself, what had possessed us to hop on a plane with a newborn and travel to the other side of the world.

“I don’t know why … we’re here to visit family!” - “Oh! You have family who are British citizens??” - “Yes, see over there, that’s my husband and son, they’ve just been through the EU queue” ….. “Well why didn’t you say so? Just go on through”.

Or the time we drove to France for lunch (ah, how the other half live!) and the confusion caused by the lack of a stamp in my passport on entering France when we tried to return to England. Apparently the French were happy to have me, the British weren’t so keen when I tried to return.

And one time in Germany - let me make it clear, we weren’t even supposed to be IN Germany but our airline had delayed a flight, sent us to a different airport and we’d missed the connecting flight. We were starving, there was no ATM on air-side and we had no deutschmarks so we had to go through passport security to get DM and food. Except that there was no-one checking passports in that direction so I just walked through, fine, until it was time to go back, and there was no record of my having entered the country.

“WHERE haff you come from?!” …”The ATM” … “Which COUNTRY haff you come from??!” and the conversation descended into a terse discussion regarding the incompetency of their national airline, their lack of passport security and the general rudeness of the entire nation. Not one of my better moments. See why I’m not keen on travel?

Ok, I think I feel that panic starting up now …