Readjusting to UK life is a journey. In some ways, it feels like a homecoming; so much is familiar. Then I’ll come up against something that’s changed so much that I feel utterly lost.

For example, I was with Donna in the supermarket when I was looking for washing powder. In Norway, it was still mostly powder I used, usually a low-scent ultra brand. There were liquids available too, but generally I was happy with my ultra-powder. So there I was, standing in the aisle, looking for a similar, small box and I couldn’t see any. There were a few old-fashioned large boxes, but otherwise there was a massive array of unfamiliar things – not even tablets, which I could understand, but squidgy balls of stuff with different combinations and names I didn’t know. I had already noticed at Donna’s house that she put little sheets of stuff in the washing machine, but I had assumed these were the equivalent of fabric softener, which I have never used. It seems I was wrong and this was the new way of getting your clothes clean and fragrant.

Similarly, I was looking for dishwasher powder and I couldn’t see that either. Donna seemed to think using powder also involved using salt (or so she said). I’ve never used that either! My dishwasher in Norway was so old it couldn’t manage to dissolve hard tablets, hence the powder. I don’t think it had a place for salt! In the event, having bought squishy balls for both machines, I still managed to cock it up. The first time I used my dishwasher, I used the squishy washing machine combo rather than the dishwasher one. Lovely, fragrant smelling mugs are not really the right receptacle for morning coffee.

Supermarkets in general are rather overwhelming, but I was expecting that. Even when I came over on holiday, I’d noticed it. Andrew and I couldn’t understand why we couldn’t find baked beans in the canned goods aisle. It turns out there are so many types of baked beans that they had their own area!

That said, the range of ready meals is a delight. I can’t speak for all of Norway. I think there might be some upmarket supermarkets around the bigger cities that carry a few more things. But in Finnsnes, there were probably only ten ready meals, mostly some kind of meat and potato combination (the meatballs and mash were delicious, though at a price where they were a rare treat) and maybe one or two sub-par pasta dishes. I’ll not be using ready meals too often as I intend to cook from scratch, but as I’m living alone and may be tired sometimes, it’s lovely to have the option.

There are other things that are unfamiliar, not because they’ve changed, rather I’ve adjusted to a very different style of living. Andrew went home yesterday and he flew from Manchester Airport. I had picked him up from Lancaster station when he arrived. Having just spent weeks looking at car adverts, I had it in mind that there might be ULEZ taxes and restrictions around Manchester** (see update below) so I didn’t want to navigate that. Three weeks on, I’d already forgotten.

But now Andrew was leaving and getting a train to the airport in time to catch a plane was more complicated than getting off a plane and catching the next train. So I looked up the driving time to Manchester Airport (two hour forty minutes) and decided it would be nice to drop him off. We could stop off somewhere on the way (I thought) and have a coffee and then later, we could have a nice meal together.

It wasn’t until we stopped for that coffee and I started to look at the route that I remembered that, though it would mostly be motorways (in my mind, easier and faster) that we’d be hitting Manchester at about four thirty to five in the afternoon. While motorways might be easier and faster when quiet, as rush hour hit, traversing a city, the opposite was true. Still, I had managed to get to Heathrow in four lanes of stationary traffic. I would manage, I thought. I had to really; it was already on the late side for him to get the train from Lancaster. However, I wanted to get near the airport before we stopped for that meal.

It was only as, with heart in mouth, I negotiated the busy, high-speed, tail-gating traffic around the city, that I realised we couldn’t leave the motorway to look for food without entering the ULEZ zone. With hindsight, I could have just paid it and left the motorway, but anyway, I was no longer certain I’d be able to get back on. The five hours we’d set aside for the journey no longer seemed so generous. Still, I’ve stayed at Manchester airport often enough to know there were Premier Inns and hotels with restaurants. We’d find something there, I thought.

In the event, I was so frazzled by the time we approached the airport that I couldn’t bring myself to ask Andrew to look up those hotels on the map, and approaching in the car was nothing like coming in on the train, then walking or getting a taxi. Nothing seemed familiar and as we drove into the drop off for Terminal 2 (which cost money each time you drove through) I sadly abandoned the meal plan and dropped Andrew off an hour early and three hours before his plane was due to take off. Had I been more organized (or even mentally ready) there was plenty of time, but it already felt a too much, and now I had to get back to Yorkshire.

Again, with hindsight, it probably would have been better to find somewhere and stop for food. I could have then planned my onward journey better. When I navigated my way to Heathrow, it was in a hired car, with excellent sat-nav that warned you what lane to be in early and how to navigate each junction. On the way into the airport, Andrew had done the same from Google Maps, albeit rather less efficiently. I had only a couple of minutes at the drop off to assimilate the route back to Settle, on a motorway network that I had forgotten was so complicated. The whole ULEZ thing meant I couldn’t even leave the motorway to find a roadside place to stop and work it out.

I guess to anyone familiar with UK driving, I probably sound a bit of an idiot, but I recently navigated my way the length of Norway (a thirty hour drive) and back again through Sweden. I had forgotten about UK cities: how busy and complicated they are, with their restrictions, rush hours and aggressive drivers. Still, I survived, I didn’t crash and I have worked out that before I approach any such journey again, I need to get a proper sat-nav in my car and I should do my homework and think ahead. All adjustments take time, and I’m very much of the opinion that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

All in all though, it’s been a good week. I’ve finally met C, the other vet in Dumfries. She’s immediately offered the thing I hoped for, which is to take me out on some calls and show me the paperwork. Veterinary leader L also came down and was very encouraging. C says nobody stays in Dumfries, but I’ve just sent in a claim for removal expenses that APHA can claw back if I leave before two years is up, so C will be stuck with me for some time. I’d better make sure it’s time well spent!

**Quick update – it seems the ULEZ tax for Manchester is still under review, so I needn’t have worried. The signs were all up though, saying if you left the motorway, you’d be in the zone, as it were. Wish It’d known that last night. Preparation is key!