"We the willing, led by the unknowing, are doing the impossible for the ungrateful.
We have done so much with so little for so long. We are now qualified to do anything with nothing!" Anon.This was pretty much how Ian and myself felt as we trudged to the Edward VII pub, our last bastion from work one drizzly lunchtime. We were licking our wounds from a particularly viscous meeting in which our bosses reprimanded us for falling short of our astronomical targets (it got to the point that Ian and I were expected to have worked more hours on a project that there actually were in the week).
Through a conversation I had with Ian earlier in the year, I know that he was interested in working abroad. Canada was mentioned, but to be honest I thought it was a bit of a pipe dream that would disappear faster than a fart in a force 9.
I too had been looking around. I had interviews with the RAF and Navy. I am still thinking about a career in the services (if they'll have me), but at the time I just didn't feel I wanted it enough at that time to put myself through the rigors of it.
So we were both in the Pub with little enthusiasm and even less direction when Ian shouted out of nowhere "lets go and live in Canada!".
I responded in my usual cool and considered way, and said "ok" straight away.
A week or so later we went to a presentation evening hosted by the company who organized the visas. After consulting our respective families and checking the bank balance (bye bye flat deposit) we decided to apply.
There was one shaky moment when I had been accepted for the scheme, but Ian had yet to hear causing panic form both of us. Ian didn't want to be left back at work on his own. I was suddenly thinking that I would be going on my lonesome. Ian's the sensible one!
I needn't have feared. Ian rang the company up ON MY PHONE DURING PEAK TIME and found his place had been reserved.
Like it or not we were Vancouver bound!
