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The minibus with wings bumped onto the runway in Canberra. As I queasily walked down the steps and across the tarmac the heat hit me like a wall and the smell of eucalyptus made me wonder if I’d stepped into a vat of Vicks Vapour Rub. It was December 2000 and I was 27. The trip from Sydney to Canberra was the last stage of a 36 hour journey, taking me from my student life in Bristol, England to be with my husband John, who in October had started a 3 year post-doctoral contract at the Australian National University in Canberra. Because we were living in different countries we had so far only managed 6 weeks of married bliss since our wedding in August and it was now three days before Christmas.
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I met John when I was in my final year of studying Biomedical Sciences at the University of Sunderland in England in 1997. He was a post-doctoral researcher in ageing and Alzheimer’s disease and we met over the Bunsen burner when he took my final year microbiology labs. Having to spend time apart had been a major feature of our relationship so far. We had been together for only five months when I moved to Bristol to start my PhD.
John’s new contract at the ANU was a distinct improvement on the one before. In the last year of my PhD training he had taken a 3 month contract in Perth (Western Australia) while his supervisor in Sunderland scraped together more money. When the continuing funding was confirmed John began a 6 month contract back in England, then continued on month to month contracts for a further 6 months. This had culminated in him being rehired as a research assistant whilst also doing some contract lecturing at Durham University, 50km away. All of this and trying to maintain our relationship while living a 5 hour drive away from each other.
After all that we both agreed that whichever of us was offered the first contract for 2 years or more, the other would follow. It had got to the point that we were contemplating Vermont in the US as there was a possible job for me there when the call came from Canberra. John’s future boss was calling from his house just outside Canberra where he was watching kangaroos and sipping a glass of Shiraz. We were sold! After our short time in Perth we knew we liked Australia and despite some misgivings about leaving our family so far away, we arranged a wedding in 12 weeks, had the house rented out and organised our visas. However, I had to finish my PhD in oral microbiology, which meant I couldn’t come out until December, which was why we’d only spent 6 weeks of our marriage together so far. We had a wonderful Christmas and then I had to find work.
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| Julie, John and Magnus at the Research School of Biological Sciences at the Australian National University, Canberra (2005) |
It was then that I realised how little microbiology work there is in Canberra. So I ended up working part time, acting as a ‘gopher’ for a research group. I washed bottles, made up media, photocopied articles and defrosted freezers. It was relatively mindless physical work but it got my face known. I applied for lots of jobs and wondered why I was getting no replies when someone showed me how Australian job applications are supposed to be written. In Britain you write a letter that details how you would be suitable for the job and enclose a copy of your CV. I hadn’t realised that in Australia you were expected to write a paragraph or two under each of the selection criteria. This was my first serious encounter of a cultural difference in science. I sent in two ‘proper’ applications in June, was interviewed for both and offered a post as a manager of a molecular biology facility at the ANU. It wasn’t research, but by this point I just wanted a job in science that would still let me use the skills I’d got from my PhD.
As time went by, we applied for and got permanent residency and our thoughts turned to children. Naturally, we found out I was pregnant just as we’d bought a house with a big mortgage and then been told that my contract wasn’t being renewed. It seems that children don’t come along according to any plans you might have!
I had a good pregnancy but also spent a large part of it looking for work for afterwards and making sure we had enough money in the bank if I didn’t get any work. I even mailed in a job application the day I went into labour. After a 12 hour labour, our beautiful son Magnus was born.
Work, what was that? I only wanted to cuddle and stare at this gorgeous little bundle all day long. Sadly reality made a rude appearance all too soon as several jobs that suited my skills were advertised around the time of the birth and I couldn’t risk letting them go as we needed two incomes in the long term and it couldn’t be guaranteed that suitable jobs would be advertised later in the year.
My first job interview was 4 weeks after Magnus was born. I managed to fit into my suit – the wonders of breastfeeding! John had to take the day off work so I could attend the interview without taking our baby along. In fact, having no family around us in Australia meant that John had to take time off every time I had interviews.
Time passed, then about three weeks later I was called from my old place of work asking why I hadn’t showed up for an interview. An e-mail mix-up meant that I hadn’t had my interview date confirmed. It was 11am, I was in t-shirt and trackies vomit stained and unshowered. Could I come in for 12? ‘Make it 1 o’clock and you’re on’ I said. Cue one super fast shower, dust down of suit and tidying of hair and searching for a whole pair of tights whilst making sure John could look after our son while I was being interviewed. I headed in and breastfed Magnus while eating lunch and longsuffering husband held my application in front of me so I could read it. It’s lucky that women can multi task! They gave me the job. Which was when the fun began with childcare. Or lack of it in this case. After dragging Magnus around several childcare centres, we finally managed to find a centre that would accept him for 2 days per week. To juggle my working hours around that only available childcare, John managed to get his boss to agree that he could stay home one half day per week to look after our son. The ANU was happy to let me work part-time until Magnus was 8 months old.
So after a lot of juggling and some interesting moments, including the day that I starting leaking breastmilk towards the end of an interview (I don’t think they noticed), we’ve managed. It’s been hard without family to help out, but I now have a permanent job, Magnus is in a lovely, nearby childcare centre for two days a week and John is taking a 3 month sabbatical to be a stay at home dad when I first return to full time work, which makes the transition easier for me and will allow me to work on some research projects too.
The last piece of news is that we
became Australian citizens on September 30th so we have finally come home
without moving this time. This was the final piece of stability we were looking
for and now our biggest concern will be fitting in (and affording!) trips back
to our families so they can see their grandson. With only 4 weeks of leave per
year it will be hard at times, especially as we want to show Magnus so much of
Australia too, but I keep looking for conferences in Edinburgh so I can combine
work and family in the nicest possible way.
