This is the first time when I start writing something directly on the blog... Maybe it’s not a good idea, as writing what comes to mind elsewhere is giving the chance to step back from it and look at it with fresh eyes (if there is such a thing), with a clear mind, just a little bit later, not to be too impulsive and perhaps get an end result that is more satisfactory and less likely make me regret to say any of it.

As it’s probably the case with most of us, a lot is going on in my life and it doesn’t always leave much time to write and contemplate about my writing. To find the words, the right ones, to convey the thoughts, I have to be in a specific mindset and not to be disturbed. To accomplish that can be challenging, but it’s not impossible.

Today, to catch up with the things I thought of during the week but did not have time to do, I went through a few of my old writings that were accessible (not on that old hard drive that I still have to look through), for different reasons. It was interesting to re-read them in detail what drove me to make my decisions, even though I remember the main points still. Sharing those thoughts might resonate with us today, too, even though they were written in June 2008. These sentiments appear in my story as well. Funny how I imagined my life and set my goals and then it turned out differently in many aspects of it, but I managed to stay on the main path I envisioned.

I also would like to mention how interesting I find seeing other writers explaining the reason why they started writing, how it came to be. How one just sat down and started typing, while I thought that for others it might be a completely different process than for me. How the other one wanted to preserve his thoughts for his kids, or to later generations, acknowledging the divide between generations and the fact how by the time the younger generation gets curious and wants to ask questions about the old times, it can be too late.

It was interesting to see, as I was reading an autobiography, how the writer was jumping a bit in time. First being an older man, in the introduction part, then went back in time, being a kid, then went even further back in time to describe his mother’s background for better understanding. I think, when I first read that book, I did not pay too much attention to how the book is structured intentionally or just simply because it made sense that way, but now, having finished my own, I can’t help and recognize these things.

As I said on my social media account earlier today, the writing process is a learning process. I wrote the story, I stated my reasons why I started writing and at the end, I got a conclusion as well, getting the answer to the question I previously asked. Writing it, I got my thoughts in order and painted a picture of myself that I needed to be reacquainted with. So independent of the story’s fate, if I can provide a good enough marketing to it or it will forever stay in the shadows, it has fulfilled it’s purpose, it helped me remember, feel better and value myself for who I am, give strength on the days when I feel low and if anybody else reads it in the future, maybe it provokes thoughts and realizations and perspective in their lives as well.

https://harrietcorvine.com/f/reacquainted?blogcategory=Another+life

My novella starts in a small bedroom. I can see still, as a horse-drawn carriage is passing by the house on the dirt road. I can still remember how it felt opening the front door on Easter morning, the slanting, somewhat broken front terrace of the house, the crisp air, the tulips on the side of the sidewalk. There was no fence, no houses further down the street, ours was the last one, with the last lamp post only a few meters away.

Last night, I was there again. The window of the room had a different shade, not the blue curtains. Those are long gone. There were these white blackout shades you’d need to pull down on the window but they didn’t cover it perfectly and I thought this makes no sense at all, so I pulled another over it, though it didn’t make the room dark - useless.

I was smoking. That was the indication. Cigarette in hand, the end of it burning. I didn’t inhale, just watched as the yellow and fading red played at the end of the cigarette and as it was getting shorter and shorter by the minute, the ash at the end bigger and soon to give way. I feel it still between my fingers, where I used to hold so many of them a long while back. No ash tray. Then the ash dropped on my yellow duvet and immediately burned a hole in it. And I thought, you don’t smoke in bed! Not inside, not with your daughter in the same room! You don’t smoke at all! And went to look for a sewing kit, to fix the duvet. Because, of course you fix it and don’t replace it.

Then there was rain. Heavy, that passed. But water was seeping down in every room, on every wall and I thought: damn, I need to check the roof! This is serious! Clearly that was so bad, it could’ve only happened with no roof at all. Where have I been for so long? I was still thinking of repainting.

Back in the small bedroom, through the window I saw a truck stopping and the person started cutting the knee high grass on the side of the road with his weed whacker. Then in the meter deep ditch, slowly getting closer to the house. I hate the noise of it but I said nothing. Clearly the yard hasn’t been taken care of for a while. It was time. But I saw my dad’s grape vines and was hoping that he saw them, too. The tulips were now invisible…

“this small and quiet town in Hungary is lying on flatland at the heart of the Southern Great Plain in the midst of yawning forests, flowery meadows and quiet billabongs.”

I followed someone here a year ago. Then soon I unfollowed her. Not because I didn’t agree, but because what she pushed wasn’t what I was focusing on. Wasn’t my way.

I arrived and got caught up in the labyrinth of words. The stories, the poems. I realized that we all have our own and none is less or more valuable than the other. Then what’s the point of pushing mine?

I shared what I wrote: My novella. My baby. My story. And stayed on. I got involved in this love affair with words and metaphors. With magic spells and thoughts. I looked at myself in the mirror. There I found distorted pictures and honest crows wearing their cloaks.

Literature (poetry and prose) and English were always a part of my life. One big love that I pushed aside for longer than I should have. It gave me peace, a foundation when it seemed my life was to collapse, when I didn’t see who I was.
It’s still a sanctuary, where I feel truly alive, where I can be me when I write or when I relive feelings through reading. When someone’s words move me (to tears). Even the hurt. It hurts so good. I feel it because I am alive.

I once said I have two muses. Now I have more. You inspire me. You are the reason I fell in love again. I look up to you for your creativity, your knowledge, bravery, how you withstand what life throws at you. How you gather what’s left and fight some more. Never giving up. Fight for what matters. With dignity. With composure.

”She, with her silver hair, sparkling eyes and her earrings dangling happily, standing in her garden, amongst her flowers, while the circus passed down the street with elephants and monkeys and all of the sudden she was once again a little girl with wonder in her eyes and I stood beside her. She placed her hands on my shoulder and smiled.
We were together, looking at those beautiful big creatures walking quietly and seeing their feet and eyes. Always the eyes.
Keep. Keep her alive by being her. The world needs that spark.”
- A spark and a smile April 5th, 2025.

I don’t identify as a writer or a poet, even if I’ve written both poetry and prose. There was a time when I wanted to become a teacher. Instead I became a student. Now I came to realize that I am not more than a tool and I am happy with this revelation. I see an opportunity and use it.

My goal was to speak to that girl in the distance. To tell her that if I could do it, so can she. To give hope.
So that’s what I focus on now. To speak to her and to speak to him, too. That boy on the beach. And all the other girls and boys.

Thank you for the reminder that what we can do to change things for the better is to educate the youth and raise awareness. With our words. By being living examples, role models (whether we want or not). To make a difference one word, one post, one poem, one live at a time.

“I’ll leave you with the last sentence that became my motto and of which I try to live by:
”It’s better to go the distance than not and then later regret not having the experience.””

So please join me in my efforts

Subscribe now

at HC Tales (here) / Harriet Corvine Tales
at https://harrietcorvine.com
at Women’s Perspective and
at Short Stories and Tales

Thank you.

Harriet

https://open.substack.com/pub/harrietcorvine/p/harriet-corvine-another-life-episode-65b?r=5cwair&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true

Epilogue

There we were, in front of the chapel where our guests and my groom were waiting inside. Spencer next to me assured me that I looked beautiful and how honored he felt to walk me down the aisle. I thanked him for being there for me and we entered the chapel as his little girl was spreading rose petals in front of us.

Reaching Frank, the Justice started speaking.

“We gathered here today to witness Frank’s and Harriet’s marriage. This commitment is made to each other, in sacred trust.

“They promise to embrace conflict, as well as peace, to work as well as play, to struggle as well as to bask: to give as well as receive and to be with - stay with - and move toward one another for the rest of their lives.

“Seemingly your relationship will be as it has always been, yet there is a power in the spoken word.

“The wedding ring is a complete circle; it is the symbol of the completeness a husband and a wife find in a marriage relationship. The ring has no beginning and no end, just as love is never-ending.

“As you place the wedding band on each other’s hand, may it not only remind you of the endless love you possess for one another, but may it also be a reminder of a precious gift that has been given to you to make you complete.

“Frank, place the ring on Harriet’s finger and repeat after me:

“I, Frank, take you Harriet to be my lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”

“I, Frank, take you Harriet to be my lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”

“Harriet, place the ring on Frank’s finger and repeat after me…

“I, Harriet, take you Frank to be my lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”

“I, Harriet, take you Frank to be my lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”

“By the act of joining hands you take to yourself the relationship of husband and wife and solemnly promise to love, honor, comfort and cherish each other as long as you both shall live.

Therefore, in accordance with the law of state and by virtue of the authority vested in me, you are now Husband and Wife.”

“You may kiss the bride.”

Epilogue two

8 years later

“Mom?” My 5-year-old daughter shouted my name from the other room.

“Yes, baby?”

“Can you come and help me? Dad said to ask you.”

“Be there in a minute, just finishing something….” I took a big breath and looked at the letter that I just wrote to my dad.:

Milestones…

It's been a year already. And a week. Since we last spoke, last had a laugh, last when I could tell you "In person" I love you. I tried to soak in all the information, what I saw, what I heard, to burn it in my memory all. I put up a brave face, knowing this is the last time.

You were kind, polite, enjoyed the chat, Inge's goofiness. I was aware of every second ticking away, but smiling. We finally had to get ready to go. We said, we'll talk every day. I'll call you. I love you. You said: "I love you, too. But you're so far away..." You turned to those around you and we hung up. That was it. A completely normal call on the outside and one with an unimaginable importance to me, because that was the last one. It was nice, it made me feel good then. Because it went well. It was like, it's not the end. We'll speak; you'll speak to me. And you do.

There is no day going by not thinking of you. I idealize you. I focus on the positive. Not how things felt then, but how I evolved from those experiences.

I focus on what I can learn from you. Nobody is perfect and we are no exception. But there are huge differences in how people carry themselves. It takes strength and courage to accept the things we can't change. I wish you didn't have to, but you did act exceptionally well-mannered all throughout that period of your life. It makes me proud and makes me love you even more.

Time goes by fast. Life goes by fast. Life can seem to be but is not that never-ending period in which we have all the time in the world to make up our minds about things. It is moments, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and years that matter and will never come back. Years pass by way too fast.

I said a few days ago, you continue shaping my life from afar. In a good way, because good is what I focus on. With how you carried all the weight on your shoulders, you became a role model to me. It feels like I know how you felt. I feel the sadness; I feel your defiance and your acceptance. We understood each-other down to the bone and cells. Most importantly I feel your love. Always.

Afterword

What is the purpose of this story? To tell that someone made it to a happy ending? It’s not so much about the destination, but more about the journey. All those miles and experiences are for what? For the realization that regardless where we are from, we can be affected by issues as poverty, alcoholism, unemployment, rejection in the family, rejection in love, but acceptance, friendship, empathy can lift us up from the deepest deep of our state and we can make something out of ourselves, something that maybe we can be proud of.

It’s better to go the distance than not and then later regret not having the experience.

Acknowledgement

I would like to thank those who believed in me and pushed me when I was low on courage, when I doubted myself, those who gave me positive feedback, shared with me their feelings and thoughts that my story awakened in them and who provided me with constructive criticism and suggestions.

Andrea, Kendra, Linda, Sherry and Maggie, just to mention a few of you, Thank you for your encouragement and support!

January 17th, 2025.

Thank you for joining me, listening to or reading my story.
I hope you found it enjoyable and I was able to move you a bit occasionally, or made you think at least once or twice.
I’ll leave you with the last sentence that became my motto and of which I try to live by:
”It’s better to go the distance than not and then later regret not having the experience.”

Once again: Thank you so much for taking the time.
All the best,
Harriet

First published on my website on May 31st, 2025.
https://harrietcorvine.com
Copyright © 2025 Harriet Corvine - All Rights Reserved.

Hi,
My name is Harriet Corvine.
Welcome to my podcast: Another life.
This is an autobiographical story. Names, places and identifying features of characters have been changed to protect the privacy of those depicted.

Part III/Life III.
Chapter 27 Change

I didn’t take it lightly that he left behind his whole life just to be with me. I understood what he sacrificed. At the same time, I knew that everything here was new for him. While I went to work, he stayed in the apartment or went out for a walk to familiarize himself with the neighborhood. It was January though, it was cold, which limited the time spent outside. The flat was too small to stay cooped up there and we both knew he needed to look for work. Not only for monetary reasons, but as a tool to see new places, meet new people and feel like a useful partner in our relationship and as part of society. He needed to renew his EU passport so he could apply for jobs. Unlike when I was getting my new biometric passport 2 years before, the waiting time to get a passport renewed was so much longer, we figured it was best if he went home and got it done there, so upon arriving back he could look for a job. After about 2-3 weeks in London, he flew home and stayed with his brother while I was alone in London once again, even if only temporarily.

He came back by the end of February and by then Tia, my friend from North London, who was back in the UK once again, told me that the company she was working for was hiring. He applied for and got a job as a steward on high-speed trains.

Through his job he met a lot of people every day and found it interesting to listen to them and sometimes hard to understand what they said, given there are a ton of different dialects between London and Nottingham or London and Leeds. And he’s seen new places. His work life sounded like an adventure. Some of the stories he told made us cry from laughter.

All was good. We were looking forward to the future. We passed a nice church on the way back from Gunnersbury Park and we talked about marriage, how we wouldn’t have a big party, but a suit and a white dress and a glass of champagne in a pub with our closest friends…

This was when the second wave of the financial crisis hit. The first was in 2007-2008. Some of our customers at work struggled with paying us, hence we had issues at work as well. So much so, one day my boss came and regretfully told both me and my colleague that he needed to let us go as he couldn’t afford to pay us anymore.

It was a shock. What were we going to do now? We had one month as per our contract of employment before it was all over.

Oh, my colleague found a new position for himself within a week. I, however, feared becoming unemployed. As we got closer to the end of the month, I was dead set on convincing my boss that he in fact still needed me in the office. He could do all the IT work himself, just like when he hired me a few years before, but then he would be back to square one, having to look for someone doing all the admin that I took care of. And honestly, my salary was still pretty affordable.

Easter came. Instead of following the old traditions, we decided on a gathering with friends, where we had ham, eggs, open-faced sandwiches and good company. Our friends, Frank’s coworkers came over and when they left, Frank dropped down on one knee and asked me if I would be interested in moving to the US with him and becoming his wife. I said yes.

This was big news. Big change. It was scary, and exciting as well.

I went to work next Tuesday and told my boss. He congratulated us, and said he'd employ both of us, just stay. But then I knew that Frank missed his family, his car, the wide-open spaces. I was also worried that if we were both employed at the same company, then we’d be in twice as much trouble if he decided to let us both go after all. We wanted stability, something to build a life on. So, I kindly declined but said that I was happy to work remotely. So that’s what we agreed. I worked through all May.

Giving back the office keys to my boss was a very sad moment and so was packing up our lives in our flat. We flew to JFK on May 31st to start another life. Together.

End of Part III.

Thank you for listening/reading my story.
To get the whole picture, please hold on just for a couple of minutes, when the Epilogues and Afterword will become available, too.
Thanks.
Harriet

First published on my website on May 31st, 2025.
https://harrietcorvine.com
Copyright © 2025 Harriet Corvine - All Rights Reserved.

https://open.substack.com/pub/harrietcorvine/p/harriet-corvine-another-life-episode-7e4?r=5cwair&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true

Hi,

My name is Harriet Corvine.
Welcome back to my podcast: Another life.
This is an autobiographical story. Names, places and identifying features of characters have been changed to protect the privacy of those depicted.

Part III/Life III.
Chapter 26 Frank

I was at peace with the fact that I was single, what's more, I embraced it. One day I found myself in a group on Facebook where people originally from my country, from all around the world shared their thoughts about a variety of things, be it food, music, human behavior, desserts or anything else. This was a perfect place to chat with others who had similar roots, to compare views, experiences and to have a good laugh when someone said something funny. And there were a lot of funny things said. Again, me being me, I found good company there, too. Some of these acquaintances became friendships like Ann-Marie and me, and there was actually at least one occasion of which I know of, when a woman and a man became a couple and eventually got married. Mind you, this was not a dating website or group.

One day in late August, I found a message in my inbox. He was very polite and said that he liked the way I talked in my comments about living in the United States and he would like to become a friend of mine. I didn’t normally accept friend requests from men I did not know, but there was something about him and he was just so polite, I decided to accept his request. Worst case scenario I’d just delete him, right? So, this is how Frank, and I became friends.

We started chatting and enjoyed those chats. Turned out that while I was in the US, there were times that we lived close by and even went to the same coffee shop but never met in person. Now we chatted daily, and we were both looking forward to it each day.

We discussed a lot, including failed relationships. Spending time with him felt like he was physically mending my broken heart. He was good for my soul. If we’d lived closer, we’d have met by then.

A little after this friendship started, another person from Canada started addressing me, messaging me and I found it intrusive. It was very uncomfortable. To cut it in the bud, Frank and I decided to go into a false relationship online. Now Frank was my fake boyfriend. As time went by, those unwanted messages stopped but we liked one another too much to ‘break up’. The idea of meeting in person came up, but I said I would not fly across the Ocean again for anyone anymore. So, in October he said he’d like to come and visit me in London. Would that be ok with me? I said yes. I couldn’t wait. In the meantime, something that my boss’s wife told me was ringing in my head. “If someone truly loves you, he’ll walk over broken glass for you.” He came after Christmas. I went to Heathrow to meet him. It was a little awkward riding the train back to Ealing, but it was also like when you are at the end of that date, and you really-really like the guy, and you know or think that he is going to kiss you. There was that anticipation. And he kissed me.

He stayed for about two weeks. We went sightseeing, we were at Westminster right next to Big Ben and went to see the London Eye on New Year’s Eve, but decided we didn’t want to wait out there in the crowd all night, so went home and spent the evening with my next-door neighbor who looked just like John Lennon. We went out for dinner a few times and enjoyed the Indian cuisine right across the corner of Windsor Road, on the Mall. Of course, we ate Fish and Chips, and I cooked and baked as well. Looking back, it seems we ate a lot, and maybe we did, but besides that we felt we fit. When it was time for him to return home, we were both sad but decided that in time we would figure it out.

The next few months went by. There was a period around May when we almost quit but decided against it. I figured that for him, I would make an exception, and I’d cross the ocean once again. I flew over late in September for a few days. That’s when I met his mom and his younger brother, too. His mom seemed to be happy to have female company and being a tailor tried to shower me with all kinds of clothes. Frank and I drove to see Kent Falls, Bulls Bridge, but went to NYC and met with my friends as well. It was a time well spent, so different from the last time. I mean it’s always nice to see my friends, but it’s nicer when I am not under the weather. At the end of my visit, he asked me if I’d like him to come and live with me in London. We knew that from there there were 2 options: take the next step or move on. I said yes. He moved in with me just before New Year’s Eve.

Thank you for listening.
If you are interested in how the story ends, please come back on Saturday for the final chapter and then for the final episode with the Epilogues, all planned to be published only with a few minutes difference.

Till next time,
Harriet

First published on my website on May 28th, 2025.
https://harrietcorvine.com
Copyright © 2025 Harriet Corvine - All Rights Reserved.

https://open.substack.com/pub/harrietcorvine/p/harriet-corvine-another-life-episode-40e?r=5cwair&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true

Hi,

My name is Harriet Corvine.
Welcome back to my podcast: Another life.

This is an autobiographical story. Names, places and identifying features of characters have been changed to protect the privacy of those depicted.

Part III./Life III.
Chapter 24 Laugh and cry

Money was tight, but with smart budgeting I lived a good life. The place was homey, I found new friends in the people living directly above me, not surprisingly a young Polish couple. Anita and I frequently had “clean-up dates”, when we vacuumed the hallways on our respective floors and went out and picked up garbage in and around the house, because we cared about our surroundings that sadly many didn’t.

I started building up my social life once again. I now knew a lot of people here in London. I met Val on the plane back to London one time and we just clicked. I’ve met a bunch of people from North London, and it was inevitable that we formed good relationships with at least a few of them. Through Kerry, I met another girl, Andi. I met one of my new friends, Susie, in front of the office where I worked.

If we did not meet up in person, then we talked on the phone. Sometimes we laughed hysterically about things that happened to us, about awkward situations on the tube or at a bus stop or anything really. One of these was when my boss said that if I wanted, I could take home the coat tree that I got for the office a while before, because he just got one that was to be secured to the wall, so he had no more use of the freestanding one. I said OK, and since I didn’t have a car, I took said coat tree with me on the bus. I got a few strange looks on the way to and in the bus stop but didn’t worry too much about it. Boarded the bus, then got off at White City, where I needed to change to another one that'd take me to Ealing. The bus stop was outside, and the weather was a bit windy. There were these women all covered up with their abayas (long black dress that covers the whole woman except their eyes) in front of me. They were deep in conversation and one of their skirts got caught up in the bottom of my coat tree. Oh no! I was just standing there, worried, not knowing how to address them. What was I supposed to say? “Hello, excuse me, I am terribly sorry, but your dress got caught up in my coat tree?” They seemed to be so put together and I was just a girl with a coat rack… Luckily by the time the bus came the wind took care of the situation, her dress got untangled and I could take a deep breath. Once I got off the bus, I called Andi and told her about my predicament and that I never felt so uneasy in my life, or not that I could remember.

In June, I was in the flat, and my skype rang. It was Geri. We talked periodically and I was happy each time it happened. I asked how everything was and if he had any plans, when he said he thought he should start looking and marry someone sometime soon. It was like a cold shower. What was I thinking, hoping he loved me, thinking he just didn’t want to do the long-distance thing, thinking that he’d sooner or later come and join me in London, when he clearly didn’t think of that, he wanted to stay put there and was now looking to tie himself up permanently. To someone else! I loved him as much as a human possibly can love another and he didn’t want me, he wanted someone else, whoever else, but not me. I felt betrayed, even though he told me that he wanted to stop being in a relationship when I left NY the last time. He was honest. I just didn’t believe it. Not until now. This was eye-opening. I decided that this was where I had to draw the line. I had to forget about him. I lost him and it was irreversible.

Chapter 25 Be a girl

This time, unlike when I got back from NY the last time, I had a different approach. I focused on myself, kept busy with friends and with all kinds of activities to exhaust myself physically enough that I would fall into bed, so I did not wallow in the sorry state of my love life. By the middle of the summer, I felt good.

I got tired of riding the tube on a daily basis, where passengers were pushed together in the carriages like sardines in a can, so I decided to buy a bike for myself that allowed me to ride to work. And that’s exactly what I did. I woke up at 7.20 in the morning, had my coffee, made my bed, washed up, got dressed and I was out of the door by 8.20. It took me the same amount of time to ride my bike to Bayswater as it’d take to ride the tube. I locked my bike, and I was in the office by 9am sharp.

At the beginning I had to get off the bike when I approached a steeper hill but over time as I became fitter, it didn’t even register that it was a hill I passed. I rode 9.6 miles a day round trip when the weather allowed. It was good for my wallet, and it was good for my health and tube strikes or signal failures didn’t affect me. I enjoyed these bike rides.

Eventually my colleague started riding his bike to work, too. I knew it gave me peace of mind, because of all the baking I was doing. He had got to burn some of the calories as well that he consumed because of all the goodies I took to work. Soon though, he asked not to bring any more food for him, because he said even though they ate healthy at home, he’s gained weight because of me, and he really didn’t want his tattoo to deform because of it. Naughty me with a wild imagination, I pictured a Mickey Mouse tattoo on his six pack and that made me smile. I think he told me he had a tattoo on his side maybe, but I am not sure. The guy, being of Greek descent, looked like a clean shaved Greek god. He looked good and he knew it, so Mickey Mouse sounded like fun. Regardless, it felt good to be an inspiration when he decided to follow suit and ride to work, too.

Sometimes I took the tube even if the weather was good. Like when I wanted to wear something nicer. Just for myself, for the sake of dressing up. I couldn't ride the bike if I was to wear a longer skirt or a longer dress. I remember, one morning, heading to the office I met my boss’s wife, who headed to the tube, going to work herself. She asked me if I had a date later that day. I asked why, she said it was because I am dressed up so nicely. I told her that it was just for me. I was an average person, dressing like one, I wore a dress or skirt with a blouse in warmer months, but wearing suit trousers with a blouse and high heels did not happen very often. One of the first things that my boss told me was that we did not have a dress code, just like that was the norm in the IT field. It was business casual. It meant jeans with a blouse or a sweater.

I particularly remember one sunny afternoon. It was one of those days when I felt good in my own skin, wearing a light, long, beige dress with slits on the sides that went up to knee height and a light blue two third length, three quarter sleeved light weight Indian style sweater I bought in Shepherds Bush and wedges. I was walking down Ilchester Gardens and stopping at an intersection before continuing onto St Petersburgh Pl. I stopped and looked both ways. The wind blew my dress, my cardigan and caught my hair in my face so I reached up to move it. I was also frowning because the sun was in my eyes. Suddenly a car coming from my left stopped, a guy got out of it, came up to me and said that he thought I was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, and he loved my smile. I just stood there first, then thanked him for the compliment but I was in disbelief. He wished me a nice day, turned, got back in his car and left. Me? I was gobsmacked. I didn’t get compliments much in general and it felt good.

Thank you for listening.
If you’d like to hear more of the story, please come back in two days, on Thursday to listen to/ read the next episode.

Till next time,
Harriet

First published on my website on May 26th, 2025.
https://harrietcorvine.com
Copyright © 2025 Harriet Corvine - All Rights Reserved.

https://open.substack.com/pub/harrietcorvine/p/harriet-corvine-another-life-episode-2ce?r=5cwair&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true

Hi,

My name is Harriet Corvine.
Welcome back to my podcast: Another life.

This is an autobiographical story. Names, places and identifying features of characters have been changed to protect the privacy of those depicted.

Part III./Life III.
Chapter 23 Standing up

Heartbroken, I headed back to London. I went to work, then went home, I didn’t talk to anyone, didn’t meet anyone, I stopped going to the gym, whenever I wasn’t at work, I was cooped up in my room. Then Gitta was going to travel for a little bit and decided to help another friend of hers and let her stay in her bedroom while she was away. She didn’t ask me, just told me. That made me mad. Why didn’t she ask me? I thought I had equal say in things, I thought we were a team. It didn’t matter. She left and the girl came. She acted like it was her home, slamming the doors, being loud, not at all considerate. And I was furious. I voiced my opinion to her, then to Gitta when she came back. I had no patience left and we had an argument where we agreed that it was better if I moved out. (About a year or so later we reconciled).

Yeah, it was toxic at that point. Everything was better than that. But I just blew through all my savings having travelled to the US three times in one year, so I didn’t exactly have a cushion for rent and deposit to pay at a potentially more expensive place. I didn’t know where to go from there. Luckily the office had storage space, and my boss offered me that I could leave my belongings there until I figured out my living situation. The strategy was to stay with a friend for a few days and then go home for Christmas and rent something from January only. But the friend bailed on me, and I ended up not knowing where I was going to sleep the next night all the sudden. Geri was trying to console me, cheer me up and tell me not to worry, I was going to find a solution soon enough.

Fortunately, I found an affordable short-term rental where you could rent rooms on a weekly basis. That’s how I ended up in North London. The company had a few houses and if you got lucky your flat mates were fun people and easy to get along with. I was lucky. I met a bunch of other people from my country. They were all from different walks of life, different interests and backgrounds and ages, and their company was what helped me through that rough period of my life. Tia, a girl of my age, and I became very close instantly.

I flew home for Christmas where my family was happy to see me. They knew nothing of my situation.

After arriving back to London early in January, Tia and I decided to move to another place together, where we stayed for the next 2 months, but then she started talking about moving back home and I did not want to stay in that area by myself, so I started looking for apartments in the Leafy borough, in Ealing, in West London.

By the end of February, I didn’t only find my new home, but I moved in. It was a studio apartment on the first floor of a semi-detached building, maybe a bit like brownstones. It is very close to public transport: trains, tube, buses, to the shopping center, that was only 5 minutes' walk away and at least 3-4 parks and museums were all around. There was even a film studio nearby, I passed by it many times: Ealing Studios. Part of Downton Abbey was filmed there.

No wonder this borough is the Leafy one, there are trees, blooming vines running up building sides as you walk down the streets in the spring, and you can get drunk off on the smell of flowers. This place is good for the heart and soul. Ealing Common has millions of daffodils every spring and then when the chestnut trees bloom that’s a site to behold.

My flat was lovely. It had a big living area, where I had a table and chairs in front of the bay window, a living space with a couch, armchair and coffee table in the middle and the bed near the bathroom. I had a separate little kitchen which was probably my favorite part of the place. It was dated but had a huge window and the walls were painted yellow, while the cabinets were white. The electric stove was old, but probably I was the first person who ever used the oven, and it worked great. I baked loads of goodies in it, which I eventually had to give to my neighbors and my co-workers, as there was no way I could eat it all. I woke up to birds chirping every morning and I loved it.

I have finally arrived. But still, I was holding out for Geri. Why? Don’t ask me, it’s hard to tell the heart to stop loving someone.

Thank you for listening.
If you’d like to hear more of the story, please come back next week, on Tuesday, to listen to the next episode with Chapter 24.

Till next time,
Harriet

First published on my website on May 23rd, 2025.
https://harrietcorvine.com
Copyright © 2025 Harriet Corvine - All Rights Reserved.

https://open.substack.com/pub/harrietcorvine/p/harriet-corvine-another-life-episode-693?r=5cwair&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true

Hi,

My name is Harriet Corvine.
Welcome back to my podcast: Another life.

This is an autobiographical story. Names, places and identifying features of characters have been changed to protect the privacy of those depicted.

Part III./Life III.
Chapter 22 Geri

As soon as it was possible, I went to request a new passport from the Embassy. Then I counted down the days to receive it. It was like being a child and waiting to open your present on Christmas Eve.

Speaking of Christmas, the three of us, Gitta, her boyfriend and I spent it at the flat.

We had Christmas trees with little decorations and twinkly lights for both of our rooms, set a nice table and cooked a nice meal. For dessert we ate traditional Christmas pastries that Gitta brought back from home courtesy of her mom. It was a low-key celebration but sweet.

So soon, early on in January I got notified that my passport was ready to be picked up. That meant that I could in fact now apply for ESTA and then get my tickets to NY once again.

I flew out on January 31st. I landed in JFK. I was tired, so instead of going through the hassle of AirTrain and subway travel, I took a cab and drove to his place. It wasn’t too far by car, maybe 20 minutes, that late at night. He was on his way back from out of town. I got there first, where his flat mate already knew about me and let me in.

He arrived home shortly after. Seeing each other made everything right in an instant. We hugged and kissed and showered one another with love and affection.

We went out to have dinners, visited friends and we were constantly reaching out for each other’s hands, touch, seeking the physical connection that we were denied in the past 12 months. I went out while he worked but I was there by the time he got home. It was like nothing changed. We had intimate evenings, cuddled, watched movies, cooked and cleaned up together. Even those mundane chores were happy. It was 10 days of pure bliss.

It seemed that from then on, the center of my life shifted and all a sudden it revolved around finding the opportunities to be together. In between trips, we were in touch as much as we could, skyping, video-chatting until one of us fell asleep.

Next time I flew over, it was for the Easter long-weekend. This was a much shorter time than earlier.

We spent most of the time together and it was fantastic. When we weren’t at home, we went on long romantic walks. Time went by way too fast and again, it was time to leave. He pleaded with me “Stay! Don’t go back to London! I miss you and want you to be here.” I felt the same way, but I couldn't just leave my new life and come back. I asked him to come to the UK instead. This was something to think over, but he clearly was disappointed that here I was, leaving him once again and we didn’t even know when the next time was when we’d see each other.

A month went by, then 2. We got back to the old routine of talking and video-chatting. Then his mom said she wanted to go and visit him, since they haven’t seen one another for a long time. She had a stopover in London before going on to NY. It was in August when they decided to go to Niagara Falls. They took the Greyhound.

I was at work in the morning when the call came. On the way back they encountered a problem, where she needed to ride the bus back to the city alone. Luckily, she could call one of Geri’s close friends who went to get her from the Port Authority Bus Terminal. She was shaken when she called and relayed to me what happened. I switched to rescue mode right away and rallied our friends to get him home. The experience shook all of us. He got home just before his mother had to fly back. By then my next trip was planned. I was going to come in the second half of September, just a day before my birthday and was going to stay until the month end. I felt then, something was not right.

He was colder towards me when I arrived but then acted like everything was fine. He said we were to go out for my birthday, which was the next day. He said I looked pretty but I shouldn't lose more weight. I tried to keep busy by going to the gym and eating healthily so I wouldn’t start smoking again, which doesn’t make much sense, but this is what I did.

On my birthday I put on my little black dress, made sure I looked pretty, fixed my hair and put on a bit of makeup just to get the message from him that something came up, he can’t make it. He stood me up. He would rather spend the time with Wolf, a guy living just a few houses down the street. I cried at first, then pulled myself together, changed out of my dress and went out and spent my birthday with Rita instead.

Later, when we both got back to the house he apologized. I forgave him. Of course I did. I loved him. We spent most of the following week like the birthday hiccup didn’t happen.

He went to work, I went out to meet with my friends, then we spent the evenings together, until the next day he went to work again at the crack of dawn.

I flew to Chicago the following weekend to meet Leanne, Spencer and the kids. I got a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and I cooked the stew that both Spencer and Leanne loved so much.

There was a street fair which we visited, and I met there with my cousin and his partner, too. It was a nice visit, but soon it was time to focus on my trip back to NYC and Geri.

The next few days flew by quickly. I was supposed to go Upstate and meet Scott, who was going to show me his newly purchased house, but I cancelled, wanting to spend as much time with Geri as possible.

No matter how much I was hoping to fix whatever was broken between us, at the end he said we should stop. He still loved me, but didn’t love me that way anymore, he said.

Thank you for listening.
If you liked this episode and would like to hear more, please come back in two days, on Saturday, to listen to Chapter 23.

Till next time,
Harriet

First published on my website:
https://harrietcorvine.com
Copyright © 2025 Harriet Corvine - All Rights Reserved.

https://open.substack.com/pub/harrietcorvine/p/harriet-corvine-another-life-episode-1c5?r=5cwair&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true

Hi,

My name is Harriet Corvine.
Welcome back to my podcast: Another life.
Today, in Episode 16 I am planning on reading 2 chapters: Chapter 20 and 21, since Chapter 20 is a short one.

Harriet Corvine
Another life

This is an autobiographical story. Names, places and identifying features of characters have been changed to protect the privacy of those depicted.

Part III/Life III.
Chapter 20 The right thing at the right time

Last night, once I finished writing, I felt a bit off. I was thinking How boring! Who wants to go through the job searching and the process of actually landing a position that you are already not only trained for in most aspects, but you have experience with, even if not in an English-speaking environment. It was sort of a miracle that it happened. Thinking about it, there were times when I felt guilty for ‘taking this job from someone, maybe a native speaker’ who could’ve been as good at it as I was. But then there is that tiny detail of doing the right thing at the right time that puts you in the spotlight. Go and think outside of the box and see how far you can reach.

I was thinking about dreams. I was going for something. Searching for it, that had no name or form now, unlike when it was about seeing the skyscrapers. I was looking for some sort of internal satisfaction and happiness. I was going through the motions in a sense, and I had this ‘What can I lose’ attitude, so I gave it a try.

Remember how I told you I learned that keeping my friendships alive was very important for me? What were the chances that my friend, whom I met at Grand Army Plaza Brooklyn, moved back home for that headhunting position maybe about a year before I decided to give up my visa and headed home, too. Then we were talking about jobs and apartments at her place, not knowing that in the not-too-distant future both of us were going to land in London.

Her situation was somewhat different, coming from one job straight to another, she now worked in Harrods at one of the beauty lines in a managerial position and had a 2-bedroom apartment in Hammersmith and was looking for a roommate. It was perfect.

Chapter 21 Behind the scenes

In the time of social media and instant news we need to recognize the fact that not everything is what it seems. For someone looking in on your life from the outside it looks picture-perfect. It’s not. It’s just an illusion. They are deceived. Everyone shows their best moments, best of self and hides their hardships, problems and sorrows.

I now lived in London with a friend from New York and had a job that fit me perfectly. I could contribute with my knowledge and experience and had room for improvement that was encouraged. My relationships with the people around me were good. I had nothing to complain about. I’ve got to meet new people, another employee at work, and my friends’ friends, so there was a new life forming for me so much faster this time than last time on the other side of the Atlantic. This world felt to me somewhere in between. A combination, a fusion of lifestyles clashing in one space. It was familiar for exactly those polarities as they aligned perfectly with the ones inside me.

So, on the outside I had a perfect life where I had both my private life and my professional life sorted, while on the inside I knew all too well that having a place you call your home, a room with your belongings, a potted plant, so you had another living creature with you to take care of and people around you living their own lives didn’t equal satisfaction and happiness.

I would say, I should’ve needed a slap in the face to wake me up, to get out of that daze I was still in. I missed my friends and instead of going out and making new friendships as other normal people would do (not to forget or leave the old ones behind), I was on my computer keeping in touch with the ones thousands of miles away. And I was missing Geri. Still, months have passed, a half year and I was still obsessed. I was. And not knowing how to solve this disconnect between my wants and haves, I was struggling. But survived. My birthday came, I was now 31 and I spent it with Kerry. It was nice having her there with me.

Then the next day I managed to lose my aquamarine ring that I got from my mom. I lost it in a shop, trying on a sweater. When I realized, I went back, but I couldn’t find it. I’ve lost so much weight, working myself to the bone, full time in the office and weekends in the cafe, it didn’t fit me anymore, it was too big, but I kept wearing it, until I lost it. I still feel guilty. I told my mom and dad. My mom said it was just a ring, but to me it represented her struggles, hard work and a connection to my roots. My dad worried, he said I was already too thin when I got home from the States and now, he thought of how much weight someone must lose to go down at least 1 ring size. He was clearly worried. Not about the ring, but me.

Next month though, some things happened that cheered me up. We got into the Visa Waiver Program, meaning with a newly issued passport that had my biometric data stored, I could go back to the US for a visit. I couldn’t wait.

Thank you for listening.
If you liked this episode and would like to hear more, please come back in two days, on Thursday, to listen to Chapter 22.

Till next time,
Harriet

First published on my website:
https://harrietcorvine.com
Copyright © 2025 Harriet Corvine - All Rights Reserved.

https://open.substack.com/pub/harrietcorvine/p/harriet-corvine-another-life-episode-e6b?r=5cwair&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true

Hi,

My name is Harriet Corvine.
Welcome back to my podcast: Another life.
Today I’ll read Chapter 19 from Part III.

Harriet Corvine
Another life

This is an autobiographical story. Names, places and identifying features of characters have been changed to protect the privacy of those depicted.

Part III./Life III.
Chapter 19. Go getter

Today as I was doing chores, I passed my desk, and I looked at my computer. That made me think of my very first one that I bought around 2001. A desktop computer. I was sort of late having a computer, my cousin next door already had one she got from her dad. I saved up for mine. It was an investment. I used it for work. There were these college or university students who somehow got to know that I could type their papers, and they found me. My computer was not for entertainment but for work. It was a tool. It had Windows 95 on it, Word and Excel and I saved the documents to floppy disks. It was nothing like today’s sleek designs, but it did the job. Back when I was in the UK, I had a laptop, an HP Compaq Presario that I loved. The keyboard was so comfortable, I didn’t have too many computers which had as good of a keyboard as that one. My fingers flew on it. This laptop, my first laptop, gave me the chance to see what was happening in the world and to reach out to friends and family as well as to the job market, see what was out there.

It was April and it rained a lot, so we stayed inside. I missed my boyfriend. I still considered him my boyfriend regardless of how hopeless the situation seemed. I was unhappy. In the meantime, I grew close to Diesel, the dog. He must have sensed my blues; he came over and sort of empathized with me. He helped me feel better. I appreciated his silent support very much. There is just nothing like the connection between humans and dogs. No offense, kitties, I love you, too.

Barbara tried to help as much as possible and told me about an opening at a coffee shop, so I went to see what it was about. Soon I started working there, where I made all kinds of sandwiches and paninis and ran the dishwasher a few hours a week on top of the babysitting job I had. I did this for the next few months. It helped a bit with my finances.

Honestly 30kgs of belonging is not much and I certainly did not pack anything office work worthy with me, given I came to primarily look after a kid, so as soon as I got the money together, I had a trip or two to the mall and got myself a few blouses and trousers, high heel shoes etc., that would make up a basic office attire. Yes, I was looking further ahead and was hoping to at least get some interviews, then a position.

I thought that I was at a disadvantage because English was my second language, but I gave it a try regardless. I lost track of how many CVs I sent out. They were positions in neighboring towns I have never set foot in, and they were all posted through some agencies. When a new position came up where I found myself confident that it was something I could do, all of a sudden, the submitted application number next to it started to grow in real time. All of them were like 125 applications have been submitted, 87 applications have been submitted. I thought that there was no way that anyone would want me to work for them. They’d go over the first handful of the CVs and they’d find their match shortly after. Plus, I needed to pick positions where I could go by taking the bus, given I did not have a car, let's not mention driving on the other side of the road, so that made my chances even slimmer. It was hopeless.

So, I thought about moving. Not just yet, but to get a job, and a good one at that, I needed to be close to good public transport and for that I needed to be in the thick of it.

Lucky for me, my art teacher’s daughter lived in Brooklyn, so when I went to the US, I got in touch with her and her family. I visited them a couple of times. She was always so kind, just like her mom and when she learned that I was coming to the UK, she told me about her friend, whom she went to school with, so I would have someone there to talk to. This is how I got to be in touch with Kerry. She was a friend of a friend.

She once came to see me at Barbara’s, we went to the park with Diesel. Another time I went to see her in London. She had a work party in Richmond.

We met in Ealing and from there we took the bus, I think. The pub was called the Pitcher and Piano. I love these names. It was a fun night out. After the party we took the bus and stayed at hers in Uxbridge.

I’ve been to London once with Barbara before. That time we went to Harrods.

We took the train from a town nearby and then took the tube. We had lunch in a cafe close to Harrods. With Kerry we went sightseeing. I still have photos from standing at one end of Tower Bridge and then near the Tower.

We went to see St Paul’s Cathedral, where I think, Diana got married to Charles and I also believe it was in my first English book as well, in Opening Strategies. It was weird that now I was standing right in front of a building that used to be a page or chapter in my book in school, representing something so far and unreachable and now I could just touch it with my hands.

The weekend was over and with renewed enthusiasm I thought to myself that if these people can post jobs, then I can post a variation of my cover letter and see if anyone will respond wanting to see my resume and eventually see me. This is exactly what I did. I posted a variation of my CV cover letter, and I got an email shortly after. He asked for my CV which I sent, then he asked if I had Skype, which I had also. We exchanged contact info, and he asked me to come to London for an interview. We agreed on the date and time. When I was just walking down the street to the address, I sent him a text message to say that I was close by, when I saw this guy in front of the building that was supposed to be the building I was going to. He took his phone out and instead of typing anything he asked if it was me. I confirmed and then he went on to tell me that it was good that I messaged because he completely forgot about our appointment, and he was just about to leave. We went up to the office. This was a small company, only 2 people working there and he needed assistance with running the office.

Busy, he got an issue right away that needed to be dealt with. I just told him yesterday that one of the first things I remember seeing him doing was pulling usernames and passwords out to log onto a website and switching windows while talking on the phone with a client. That made him laugh over the phone. Once the disaster was averted, he paid attention to me once again. He asked me about my experiences which I briefly explained and about my time in the US. He asked me about salary expectations which I told him how much I thought would be sufficient. Then he asked if I knew how to calculate the gross salary amount out from the net, also asked me about VAT returns, if I knew how they worked. I answered his questions, and he seemed happy with them because he offered me the job on the spot. I was ecstatic. We agreed that since I was tied up with the family where I babysat and lived, I needed a bit of time to give them notice, so I was to start on the first workday in August. Kerry was the first person I called with the good news.

Thank you for listening.
If interested in hearing more, please come back next week, on Tuesday, when Chapter 20 will be ready.

Till next time,
Harriet

First published on my website
https://harrietcorvine.com
Copyright © 2025 Harriet Corvine - All Rights Reserved.

https://open.substack.com/pub/harrietcorvine/p/harriet-corvine-another-life-episode-d73?r=5cwair&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true

Hi,

My name is Harriet Corvine.
Welcome back to my podcast: Another life.
Today, I’ll continue with reading Chapter 18 in Part III.

Harriet Corvine
Another life

This is an autobiographical story. Names, places and identifying features of characters have been changed to protect the privacy of those depicted.

Part III/Life III.
Chapter 18 Fox and Hare

Barbara, just like Leanne back in Chicago, came to pick me up at the airport and drove me back to the house. I was more prepared now than 3.5-4 years before that. We chatted on the internet and given that she was from the same country I was from, we had no language barriers, so I knew what I was signing up for and what her needs were in terms of childcare and got a sense of the other’s personality as well. Understandably, she asked for references though.

Heading over to the airport back home, my family was not happy at all. I was told that I am degrading myself to childcare once again and if I could do that why wouldn’t that be good enough for me back home. Or cutting flowers in a greenhouse for that matter. That was a valid question. First, taking care of children isn’t what’s degrading, it’s the position that makes you feel inferior when your employer treats you as someone less than equal. Taking care of and teaching kids is in fact fun and fulfilling although exhausting at times but it’s something that keeps you engaged. As for pay, those few quids weekly was worth more than not having any income back home. I might as well become a slave anywhere but home.

Aside from the question of pay, a big selling point for me was that it was an English-speaking environment. The home of Shakespeare (not quite Woodfeld but the land), Oxford, Stonehenge, Windsor, Eton and the Queen! Then the Queen, Beatles and the Yellow Submarine.

I arrived early in April, just 2 months after leaving the USA and Geri behind. As Barbara was driving us back from the airport, I remember, sitting on the left side of the car in the front passenger seat, I kept pressing the imaginary brake pedal and I was scared for my life. It had nothing to do with her driving, but everything to do with the fact that they drive on the left side of the road and that needed some time to get used to.

The neighborhood was nice. Lots and lots of trim bushes and trees surrounded the beautifully kept houses. These were similar to the Cape Cod style houses in Prestown, only they were all built of bricks and a lot of them had their single pane windows made of tiny little squares or other geometrical forms, inserts, that were sometimes colored. Some of the roofs were made of reed as well. That was not entirely foreign for me, given we’ve seen houses with reed roofs growing up, but at this day of age we were more likely to find them in a village museum than on an average street even though they were economical and environmentally friendly.

What I found very intriguing was that the building had the drainpipes running on the outside of the walls and the ‘outhouse’ was a Water Closet. And that must have been because they did not really see frigid winter temperatures, I guess.

The place where Barbara lived with her husband and young son, was at the end of a Cul de sac in this pristine neighborhood, with a big field right next to it, where Barbara’s dog, Diesel, a Hungarian vizsla, had many zoomies. Unlike back home, where people normally placed their house to the front of the property and had most of their backyard in the back, here, entering the main gate you drove down a winding road towards the back to get to the house and the garage.

The feel of “our house” was similar to those on this street. It didn’t have a reed roof, and the fencing wasn’t as private. It reminded me a little bit of the cottage in the Holiday movie, which by the way turns out to be non-existent as they built it in Hollywood for filming purposes. Jude Law said so. I found it charming that the garage and the house was connected with a brick wall that had a gate that led to this little hallway kind of paved yard, from where you could enter the kitchen in the house, opposite of it was the side door to the garage, next to that was the aforementioned WC with actual running water. If you exited this little area through the opposite side to the gate, you found yourself right in the backyard, which had some trees but also had a big clearing with grass, benches and flower beds along the back wall of the garage and the patio that was off of the sunroom, along the walls of the kitchen.

This house was more modern, with a washer in the kitchen that would be very unusual for Americans, being used to having a laundry room. The main level had a fairly big entryway with several doors. Opposite the front door was the door to the kitchen, with a door to the dining room. Through the dining room you could enter the living room, which had a piano, a big white sectional couch with coffee table, a fireplace and TV and in one corner Barbara’s desk where she studied, paid bills online and on occasion watched some shows.

There was another door from the living room to the foyer, between that and the living room was a washroom, and this is where the stairs led up to the second floor. Diesel had his bed under the stairs. He was such a good, obedient dog, he knew he was not allowed to go upstairs, where the bedrooms were. The one next to the bathroom was mine, next to it was Nick’s nursery, then the office/guest bedroom, opposite it another full bath and the master bedroom on the other end of the hallway.

Nick was such a cute little baby, not fussy, easy to take care of and overall, a beautiful kid. Barbara was very down to earth, a hardworking woman, very open and helpful. She took me to places she liked going to, to these parks with fancy mansions turned cafes or to Windsor for shopping at the boutiques. It was easy to get along with her. This was also the time when the Slough Data Centre was built. Phillip worked there, managing some projects. This place wasn’t very far from everything but without transportation it took a while to walk to the post office or to the closest store, so Phillip and Barbara offered to use a bike that was just sitting in the garage. From then that was my transportation in the area. When I headed to Slough though, I needed to take the bus. It ran every 2 hours. The bus stop was just across the street from a pub called Fox and Hare.

Thank you for listening.
If interested in the rest of the story, please come back in 2 days to read/listen to Chapter 19.
Till next time,
Harriet

First published on my website
https://harrietcorvine.com
Copyright © 2025 Harriet Corvine - All Rights Reserved

https://open.substack.com/pub/harrietcorvine/p/harriet-corvine-another-life-episode-95d?r=5cwair&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true

Hi,

My name is Harriet Corvine.
Welcome back to my podcast: Another life.
New week, new chapters. Since we’ve left Part II behind last week, today I’ll start reading the first 2 chapters from Part III.

Harriet Corvine
Another life

This is an autobiographical story. Names, places and and identifying features of characters have been changed to protect the privacy of those depicted.

Part III/Life III.

Chapter 16 You had your fun now

The whole flight back home I was in a daze. It wasn’t even me, just some sort of an automated version of me. My body went through the motions, and my mind was elsewhere. I walked into our house, and it was small and dated. My mom and dad were happy to see me, and I was happy to see them, too, but if I was going to be honest with myself, I regretted coming back home instantly. Who in their right mind would do what I’ve just done? Give up their visa and leave the place where they were happy. Leave the person they were in love with. I mean, yeah, I did that before, but then I didn’t feel I was losing something, I thought I still had it, I left only for a short while, right? This, this felt final. Dad was fine, mom was fine, and I was a prized idiot.

A day went by and then another, I was in shock. Similarly to the one I was in when I arrived in the USA, now it was a shock to the system to be back home. Yes, it was my home, the house, my room, all the furniture, everything was the same, but I wasn’t.

I did not like any of it. Besides, I really was not used to being dirt poor anymore. I worked hard and got money that bought me what I needed. Even before leaving for the States, I always made sure we had enough of the necessary things. So having flour, sugar, eggs, milk, namely the basics were no problem. Heat was not a problem. We were in the middle of winter. We needed to get more firewood. I got home and realized that one thing after the other needed refilling. As time went by, my savings were running low. Plus, I had no internet. This was an urgent issue that needed to be resolved. I talked to my cousin next door and agreed to pay half her bill so I can get access to the internet, then went to the Tech shop in town and asked one of the guys there to come over and run the cabling to connect to my cousin’s router. Wireless didn’t work because the type of bricks that were used to build the houses blocked most of the signals. That sorted, I felt I could do something to build up my life. Mind you my job at the city hall was long gone. I needed a new job. Besides, all my friends at home had their jobs and their lives, while I felt all alone, even though my mom and dad were there. It was just too quiet. I was going crazy. I started looking for jobs online. Somewhere where I could use my English. I learned over time that if you don’t use it, you lose it. And I did not want to lose it, so I looked for positions in the capital, where I could utilize both my English and my admin background. I applied for a job at an International Daycare Center I really hoped to get, but during the second round of the interviews another girl got the position. I was devastated once again. That’s not enough, my mom started bugging me and asking why I was always on the computer and why didn’t I just go and try to make appointments in offices and apply in person. She looked at me like I was just wasting time, while I wasn’t looking for jobs back home. I was hoping to find something in the capital. We were discussing this with Gitta one time after an interview in her apartment, given she just came home from New York about a year before that. At that point she worked for a Headhunter organization and helped me with working on my resume.

The general take on my situation was that it was about time that I got to my senses and so now I should just get a job (I know), preferably in town, then settle down with a nice guy, get married, have kids. There was nothing else wrong with the idea other than it made me feel pressured. I couldn’t just go and pick someone, anyone and get married because my family thought that was what I was supposed to do. Because of my age, because I was getting old now. I felt like I was in the Big Fat Greek Wedding, and they wanted to marry me off before my expiration date. I just left someone in the other part of the world, and I was not over it. What were they talking about me settling down and getting married? And anyways, didn’t they know yet that I would not budge?

I went to the store, and I was looking for dill. I told my mom that I don’t know why but I can’t find it. She said, “It’s all seasonal vegetables you can get in the store here. It’s not America. You’ve had your fun now; it’s time for you to get back to living a normal life like everybody else.” What do you say to that? That their normal was not good enough for me? That it wasn’t just some fun for me but a way of life that happened to be different than what they were used to? Would she understand? I doubt it. They were unhappy because I was unhappy. I mean, they were happy that I was at home, but they did not like that I was not happy about it. My grandma even called me and said she found a job for me. I was supposed to go and work in a greenhouse, cutting flowers for flower shop orders for the equivalent of around 300 US dollars a month. It’s not that I don’t like flowers, or I would not do manual labor, but why on Earth did I go to school if I was not going to use my knowledge? What about making something of myself? And who was I going to talk to in English in the greenhouse? The tulips or the roses? It didn’t matter to them, but it surely mattered to me. Needless to say, refusing to take that job was just another nail in my coffin.

I was thinking about what to do. Looking at my account I figured that at that rate in a month or two I was not going to be able to buy a train ticket to the capital, even if I was invited for a job interview. So, Frank Sinatra came to mind. If I can make it there, I can make it anywhere. I had to go. Otherwise soon there were going to be three of us looking at each other with no money, no food, nothing. I had to go.

Chapter 17 15 quid

Thinking back, it now makes me smile, because of course the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding, but it was true, that similarly to the dad in the movie, I did not have much when I arrived in the United Kingdom. I got my 2 bags that were 15 kgs each (33 lbs) and 15 pounds in my pocket. He had 8 bucks.

But I had room and board sorted. A young woman with a 1-year-old baby boy was looking for some help while she attended school. She gave me room and board and a few quids (Pounds) per week. This is how my life, another one, started in Woodfeld, in a little village, outside of Slough, west of London.

Thank you for listening.
If interested in how the story continues, please come back in 2 days time to read/listen to Chapter 18.
Till next time,
Harriet

First published on my website on May 12th, 2025.
https://harrietcorvine.com
Copyright © 2025 Harriet Corvine - All Rights Reserved.

https://open.substack.com/pub/harrietcorvine/p/harriet-corvine-another-life-episode-255?r=5cwair&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true

Hi,

My name is Harriet Corvine.
Welcome back to my podcast: Another life.
This time I’ll read the second half of Chapter 15, which is the end of Part II.

Harriet Corvine
Another life

This is an autobiographical story. Names, places and identifying features of characters have been changed to protect the privacy of those depicted.

Part II/Life II.
Chapter 15 Decisions (2nd half)

Back, months before this, while still living with the family, I logged onto a social media site, and I got a couple of friends from there. This was a site from home. To this day I am friends with a woman I got to know through that site. We never met but talked and emailed a lot, especially during my time at LaGuardia. I remember her telling me about her daughter and what was happening in her life, and I did the same. From that very same site I got to know some guys as well, who were from home. One of them didn’t live very far from me and while the family had the staircase redone in the house and me and the other girl opted to stay with friends (Maggie with her boyfriend and I stayed at Ibi’s for a few days), he asked me to go out with him and his friends. They picked me up and we went bowling and then we stayed friends. They were fun to be around. So, when months later I was again looking for a place to move to, Berty said there was a free room to rent in the apartment he shared with his friends. I moved. It was here that I met more people from home. I met Maja and Magda and soon Pali came to live there. Maja was Berty’s girlfriend; Magda had the room next to mine and Pali was to move into the room that was closest to the street. We were on the edge of Borough Park, which was closer for me to go to school than Kings Highway. Being surrounded by a bunch of people from all different areas of the country and meeting their friends meant constant partying in the kitchen and lots of laughter. We cooked together and celebrated birthdays, Thanksgiving and Christmas together. I became part of a little community and happened to have met someone there who was my mom’s coworker’s boyfriend, which was weird. Small world.

Time went by, I lived my life and in fact was enjoying it when I got a phone call from home. I never got a call; they always expected me to call so it was alarming. I had just walked out from Barnes and Noble on 7th Avenue in Park Slope when it happened, and my mom was on the line. She said my dad had a car accident while he had a stroke. Luckily, he got help quickly so he was going to be ok, but he was going to have to go through some therapy. It scared me that I was so far away, but my mom told me that even if I was close, I could not help much now, so let’s just wait and see.

That’s what I did. Attended school, met my friends, and kept in touch with the family. One weekend Gergo, Geri came over. He was one of the guys I met when we went out bowling with Berty. Berty wasn’t home and he said he was going to wait for him, and we started to talk. We talked and talked and talked some more. Covered all kinds of things. He was smart and good looking and very sad. Maybe not sad but resigned. Like he accepted that his life is what it is, and it’s not ever going to get any better. He sounded almost depressed, and I thought that it can’t be, because he is smart, and he shouldn’t let his life be wasted. I told him about my dad, about the accident, about growing up and he did the same. We enjoyed each other’s company and next time he came over, he did not come to see Berty but came to see me.

He told me he liked me, that in fact he liked me when we first met, but he thought that I was interested in his friend, which was not the case. Shortly, we spent a lot of time together and we found ourselves in a relationship. It was just a few months really, starting late in the summer, but it was intense. We clicked, we knew each other so well, it seemed. We were open with one another and discussed everything. He was a little more than a year older than me, so there was no generational difference. He treated me as equal, never acted like he was better than me or worth more than me. He was intelligent and funny and oh so handsome. When he came over, I already knew his footsteps. I knew I was in love.

It was around the time when I finished my classes, and I was supposed to start College as the next step. Tuition was going to be very expensive, and I did not exactly know just yet how I was going to be able to cover it and my living expenses. But I should’ve been able to figure it out. Add to this the guilt that I was not there when my dad was ill, I knew I needed to decide. I already knew by Thanksgiving. Geri wanted me to give up on the idea of school and stay with him. I couldn’t stay like that. I felt I needed to leave.

I went to the foreign student advisor, gave up my visa and got my ticket for February 8th. The day before my flight, we went down to the beach, we had dinner at a restaurant, and he gave me a red rose.

Then the next day he came to the airport with me. We were sitting on the Subway towards the Airport. I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t cry. Just sat there silently. That was the hardest part. Occasionally we said a half sentence here and there. No promises. He said he won’t look back. Got in the lift and I just stood there, looking at him as he left. Then I turned to stand in line for the Security Check, I got on the plane and cried. I was heartbroken, but I knew that I had made the right decision.

End of Part II.

Thank you for listening.
Till next time,
Harriet

First published on my website on May 9th, 2025.
https://harrietcorvine.com
Copyright © 2025 Harriet Corvine - All Rights Reserved.

https://open.substack.com/pub/harrietcorvine/p/harriet-corvine-another-life-episode-062?r=5cwair&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true

Hi,

My name is Harriet Corvine.
Welcome back to my podcast: Another life.

Harriet Corvine
Another life

This is an autobiographical story. Names, places and identifying features of characters have been changed to protect the privacy of those depicted.

Part II/Life II.
Chapter 15 Decisions (1st half)

If after just a few months being here I wasn't ready to go home, then now, when I had friends and found my way around the city, communicated on high-intermediate level of English (because it all came back really fast), I was able to help my friend doing research for his paleontology paper, I wanted to stay more. So, I applied to switch my visa to a student one and made steps to start at a local college with English and business program first as a warmup before venturing further. My time as an Au Pair was up, but new adventures were waiting for me, and I was now confident that I could do it and then with time everything would fall where it should in my life.

Au Pairs got one month of a grace period at the end of the year to travel and enjoy what the United States can offer before heading back home. Since I was not going home, I used this time to settle. Looking for a new place to live was a bit challenging. I did not realize up until that point how sheltered I've been while with the family. Yes, I had less freedom, but I got free room and board, meaning I lived there rent free and I got food as well. Rent, or if I want to say it in a fancy way, real estate doesn’t come cheap in New York City, no matter where in New York City you live. That meant, I had to be prepared to share an apartment with others. And you don’t want to end up sharing an apartment with a crazy person or with a creep.

One day Rose, Sarah and I went out to check out one of these apartments that was probably on craigslist. I was too much of a chicken to go by myself and boy, was it a good decision not to go alone! Sarah found it hilarious and thinking back on it, it sort of was. We arrived at a building in the Bay Ridge neighborhood. The house looked ok, a big stone building with at least 4 apartments in it. The apartment in question had 1 bedroom up for rent, the other one was taken, plus the kitchen and bath were to be shared. We went in, looked around and saw that the place would be alright, the room not too big but a bed, desk, wardrobe and chair would fit, the kitchen was sort of an alley kitchen, could have used some cleaning but nothing that a bit of elbow grease would not fix and the bathroom was probably alright, too, but the person started acting weirdly when I asked about putting a lock on the bedroom door. He did not seem very happy. We were thinking that it’s not the worst place, but I was not ready to commit to it, so we said we wanted to check out other places and we would get back to him about it shortly. So, we left, and Sarah started saying that she had bad feelings about this guy and his hair was freshly colored and why didn’t he want the door to have a lock on it and she was right. Then just a little while after text messages started to come from him asking me when I was coming back, we should go and visit his family, to which he’s been talking about me and really, they can’t wait to meet his new girlfriend... This freaked me out. Why was he talking to his family about me? And girlfriend? No way! I got really scared at first, then I blocked his number. Simple as that. He had no idea where I lived, and Brooklyn was big enough to give the wide berth to someone if you wanted to. At least I thought.

Because there was one woman, whom I would rather not meet again… But I did. Another time, in broad daylight when I was people-watching after my phone call as usual at my favorite bench at Grand Army Plaza, this middle-aged woman passed me, walking towards the intersection and the entrance to the subway, but suddenly she stopped, pulled her pants down and did her business. She pooped. Then when done, she just pulled her pants up and that was it. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I just stood there, luckily far away enough from her but still close enough to see this unfold and my mind was frozen. I went back to the house and tried to forget about it, until a few weeks later, walking down the street where I lived, I saw this very same woman once again. This time she decided to mark the front yard of my host family’s house, right in front of the parlor level window. I was afraid to tell her anything, just waited until she was done and left, then went inside, got some Clorox and poured it over the spot. It was crazy but what can we do about it? I told Spencer, but that was it.

Thank God for Polish girls! I tend to have very good relationships with them and Monika was exceptionally helpful when it came to looking for a room for me. See, there is, or at least used to be a very big Polish population living in the city, so big, they have their own paper and website. I remember I was looking at ads on bazarynka and Monika helped me translate the ones that were only in Polish. That’s how I found a Polish couple who was letting out one room in their apartment near Kings Highway in Brooklyn. It was, I think, predominantly an Italian neighborhood. I remember having chats about Norton Antivirus with the neighbor who came outside smoking as I was arriving home from somewhere… He too, was Italian and the owners of the house, too, who lived upstairs.

The couple was nice; they had kids similar ages to me back home and were happy to learn that I was attending school. The place was neat and clean, and I felt safe there.

With my living situation solved all I needed to worry about was school and tuition, but I got it covered. I enjoyed my classes. This was where I met Patrick, one of our teachers who used to say, “Nobody likes change” and who made us sign up for the Writer's Almanac. This was when I read The American Ways, Russell Baker’s Growing up and Kafka's Metamorphosis in English. I loved Russell Baker’s Growing up. The sentiment of Making something of yourself has resonated with me… I excelled and enjoyed both my English classes and the business ones and made some more friends while doing that.

One day, coming back from school, the couple I was sharing the apartment with told me that she was going back home because one of their kids was getting married and she wanted her husband to have a guy living in the other room, so they wanted me to move out. I wasn’t happy about it, but I understood that this is what she wanted, and I wasn’t very keen on sharing an apartment with him either, so I started looking for a place once again.

https://open.substack.com/pub/harrietcorvine/p/harriet-corvine-another-life-episode-0bf?r=5cwair&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true

Hi,

My name is Harriet Corvine.
Welcome back to my podcast: Another life.

Harriet Corvine
Another life

This is an autobiographical story. Names, places and identifying features of characters have been changed to protect the privacy of those depicted.

Part II/Life II.
Chapter 14 Home away from home

Once we arrived, the house, a big brownstone, like the one in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, was divided up into apartments. The previous owners used the main floor and the garden level aka parlor level, and the 2nd and 3rd floors were converted to 1- or 1,5-bedroom apartments with a kitchen and bathroom. I suppose the tenants were notified of the sale and that the new owners wanted to use the space so they were to move out, but for a little while Maggie and me shared a bedroom downstairs, while the kids’ nursery was set up in the room facing the small backyard and the parents used half of the living room for bedroom upstairs.

I remember how excited I was about all the life that was buzzing around me. I was ready to explore. I found a jazz bar I went to kind of frequently, where I met a couple who I became friends with, and their coworker, who was a real-estate agent and was trying to get me into becoming an agent as well. I loved houses and the idea, and I certainly could do the admin part and would have loved showing houses but wasn’t sure about the how, so I left it alone. I think that was the jazz bar where I met Wren, a woman from Ethiopia who worked at the AIDS Center, and I became friendly with some of the musicians as well who played there.

This was also the time when I met Gitta. Same way I met Ibi. I was sitting near Grand Army Plaza on a bench people-watching after finishing my call back home, when I heard the 2 women passing me talking to each-other. I recognized the language and said hello. They both turned and were surprised but returned the greeting and then we introduced ourselves. It turned out that Gitta lived nearby, and her mom was visiting. We exchanged numbers and were to meet soon, this time on purpose.

(Below the picture shows the area where I used to go to make my weekly calls home and where I could spend lots of time watching people, traffic to go by)

Gitta had an extensive group of people she knew in the city, having to attend school, and now was married to this tall blond guy and lived in an apartment near Prospect Park, right on the edge of the park, a few blocks up from where we met. During the time I still lived with the family. As time was ticking and my second year was getting close to the end, we went out to have dinners with friends, or to ride the bike in the park, or to her apartment to enjoy her mom’s cooking or for a dinner party where we met with Zita, too, who went to school with her back home and ended up in New York City as well.

Given the closeness of Manhattan from Brooklyn Park Slope, I started visiting the then only bookstore that sold books, newspapers, DVDs and anything really that was from home, right around the corner from our Cultural Center in the city, on the Upper East Side. I often went to the bookstore on E83rd street during my breaks to meet up with my new friends, Rita and Linda. The store and these ladies played a very important role in my life then, they became the home away from home for me, the place where laughing was easy and there was always something interesting happening, so time flew by fast.

Near this bookstore was a bakery that sold pastries that were traditional back home, like Dobos torte or zserbó. and a butcher not very far away, a few blocks down on 3rd Avenue, where you could buy Tepertős biscuits, paprika, sausages and hurka and all that you could ever miss but was just a tiny bit difficult to get or make. Maybe this is an exaggeration, especially if you were someone finding her way around the kitchen, but the taste of their biscuit was heavenly. This area was the place to be in the city. Good food both for body and mind.

First published on my website on May 6th, 2025.
https://harrietcorvine.com
Copyright © 2025 Harriet Corvine - All Rights Reserved.

https://open.substack.com/pub/harrietcorvine/p/harriet-corvine-another-life-episode-652?r=5cwair&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true

Harriet Corvine
Another life

This is an autobiographical story. Names, places and identifying features of characters have been changed to protect the privacy of those depicted.

Part II/Life II.
Chapter 13 Trains, planes and automobiles

I always loved snow. It's so lovely when all the trees and buildings are covered with a thick white blanket of snow. Getting snow in Prestown was straight out of a Hallmark movie. We had about a foot of snow by the time the sun went down, and I could not resist, I wanted to feel it crunch under my boots, so I decided I was going to go out for a walk. Spencer was downstairs, watching something on tv as I walked out towards the front door. He looked up and asked where I was going. I responded that I was just going out for a walk in the snow. He said "ok but be careful and call me if you need me and I'll come get you". That there was unexpected and touching. My own dad would not say that to me. So, I responded, "Thank you, Hostdaddy!" and went on my way.

Months went by fast, and Ve started talking about wanting to extend her year. We were about six months into our year and realized we haven't seen enough so I was on board with the idea of extension. We talked to the family and also got in touch with the organization to start the paperwork. Ve was going to be placed with another family and another girl was going to come to replace her. She did not plan to go far, just next town, while I was to stay with our current family for the second year. We were advised that if we wanted to travel, it was best to be done during our first year, not risking denial of reentry on the way back, so we agreed that I was going home in May for a visit.

The day came, when I took the train to the city, from there I took the bus to Newark, NJ and flew back home. My uncle came to pick me up from the airport. At that point I haven't met anyone in person other than English speakers, I only spoke English with the family and people I've met, so unbelievable but I was struggling having a conversation with my uncle on the drive back home. It was strange and I was thinking about how people coming home from abroad were ridiculed for acting like they forgot their mother tongue all of the sudden. My uncle was also not the person who'd go easy on me. He was never short of criticism and even if it came from a good place, it still hurt when it happened. We got through the drive, and I was really tired but couldn't sleep so we sat down with my parents at the kitchen table and talked for hours. Eventually we went to sleep just to get my friends to come relatively early to pick me up to take us to a cooking competition that they signed up for at the city-wide festival that took place that weekend. It was awesome to see them and hang out with them and it was equally strange seeing people giving me surprised looks like they were seeing a ghost.

I only stayed for a week before heading back, but somehow managed to meet with my ex at the entrance of the office where I popped in to see my colleagues slash friends, with whom we had plans. It was uncomfortable standing there at the door, not really knowing what to tell him. I mean, I told him what I thought over the phone and that did not change just because now he was there and I was there, too. I felt his blame toward me, telling me that essentially it was my fault because I was the one who left. I did not argue that it did not make any difference in the outcome. He found someone else, good for him. Cheating was always a hard no for me. I wished him well and went on to meet with my friends.

Soon I was back in Prestown. Summer was approaching and the family decided to move the kids up to Upstate New York. They wanted to buy a house in the city, and it was easier for them to do so if the kids were up there, where they had the support: her two brothers and Mimi were there. I was not looking forward to country life. This pushed me to take advantage of the closeness of the city, so I went there as often as I possibly could. One of those times I came across a street fair on 51st street, right off the corner of Central Park. As I walked through and took in what the vendors had for sale I heard my language. I turned and saw this woman, around my age, talking to a boy around 6 years old. I was so happy; she was the first person here I could engage in a chat with, in my language. We introduced ourselves and she told me their names, Ibolya or Ibi and Adi, short for Adam, and that the boy was the son of a couple whom she was friends with. We chatted and exchanged phone numbers and that was the beginning of a long friendship.

As planned, the day of moving up to Upstate New York came. We were to settle in Leanne's sister's house, since it had room for us, given that Belle and her husband were still abroad. It was just a short drive away from Mimi's house which we became familiar with during frequent visits on the weekends.

We did not like being up here all that much because the things we could do and the places we could go to in our free time was limited. See, out in the country you needed some type of transportation, which would be most likely a car. Since it was summer, and I was really tired of having to wait and ask for someone to take me to town I got myself a bike. At least I could go to the beach, to the pond or to my all-time favorite spot, to this old cemetery on the hilltop that is surrounded by a stone wall and has an iron gate.

There is a huge tree on the farther side of the wall. When you go around it, the view from there is phenomenal. The whole area reminds me of Bronte’s Wuthering Heights.

Leanne's other brother, Scott, came to help me bring my bike home from the shop, then helped with dressing it up as well. I did not get ribbons attached to the handlebar like little kids but made sure I had a bell and got a pair of fenders as well and a basket that was put on my handlebar. He made sure all the screws were tightened and put the fenders on because here they sell the bikes 'naked', unlike home. He joked with me saying that now I could get a dog and put it in the basket like Dorothy did with Toto in the Wizard of Oz.

Riding the bike is second nature back home. See, when I was little, my mom, similarly to many others, took me to daycare by placing me in the seat on the back of her bicycle. When she came to pick me up at the end of the day and we went to the grocery store, she placed the bag with our groceries on the handlebar before getting on the bike herself to go home. Some women had 2 or even 3 kids and some managed to put them all on the bike. Those were some tough women. Once you learned how to ride a bike, you had your own transportation. So, people rode their bikes from age 4-5 to 80, or as long as they physically could manage. Morning rush was very much like rows of bikers on the bike path or lane or on the side of the road. It was typical to see a kid who was old enough heading up in the front, then another kid of the family and then the mom followed, having one kid in the back or front seat. It was the same on the way home at the end of the day. And if you think that a little or a lot of rain or snow prevented us from using our bikes, then you are mistaken. So, this sort of attitude might have been a reason that Scott once told me that he thought I was tough.

There we were, me, the kids and Scott taking up the rooms in Belle's house. There was a girl from the neighboring street who came and drove us to places occasionally with the kids, like to a petting zoo or to the Millbrook Zoo or to the Audubon center nearby, but most of the time we spent the day in or around the house. Mimi and Leanne's brothers helped where they could if needed and kept me company like when we cooked and had dinner together. I had a system, and I managed to wrangle the 3 kids' laundry, mealtimes, playtimes and bath times. It was all about organizing everything. Scott and I became friends. Soon the summer was over, and it was time to move to the city, to the new house on Park Slope, Brooklyn.

First published on my website on May 3rd, 2025.
https://harrietcorvine.com
Copyright © 2025 Harriet Corvine - All Rights Reserved.

For voice/ to listen to the podcast, please click on the link below:

https://open.substack.com/pub/harrietcorvine/p/harriet-corvine-another-life-episode-956?r=5cwair&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true

Harriet Corvine
Another life

This is an autobiographical story. Names, places and identifying features of characters have been changed to protect the privacy of those depicted.

Part II/Life II.

Chapter 12 Getting settled - Holidays

One thing that I did not expect was how frequently family members came down to visit. It started soon after we moved in, in fact I think they were there right then, too for a few days. Then there was a break and then they came again. Mostly it was Mimi coming for the weekend, then it was Josh staying there for a few days and then heading back up again. Having Mimi around was understandable since she was retired and had all the time of the world on her hands, but having Josh there was perplexing.

Downtown Prestown was nice with lots of small shops. The post office was to the left, towards the ice-cream shop, while opposite was a sort of corner shop, but more like a gift shop. That's where I bought my very nice postcards that I send back to my family frequently. Walking up the street we reached the grocery store. While I walked there, I tried to remember the correct grammar, and word order in sentences I was supposed to say if I looked for something and couldn’t find it. I looked up unknown words in my dictionary, and I was prepared with a shopping list. Then there was a jewelry store, where I bought the gold chain that I wear to this day. Main street also had a very nice pastry shop. I befriended the old German lady, Tilde, who worked there and visited her even after the family moved away. Further down from the pastry shop was a pet store that was always a hit for the kids passing the window.

At least once a month we drove up to see Leanne’s family. The first time we planned to drive there Leanne was going through the fridge taking inventory and said, "We need to get milk." I asked, "Aren't we going to a farm?" She started laughing. "Not that kind of farm." she said.

The farm wasn’t a working farm anymore, those days were long gone. It meant the main house and a big red barn, part of which was converted to living space for the family members. The main house, the original farmhouse, was a nice white house with a door and 2 windows facing the Old Post Road, which was just off Route 22. The front door was rarely used, because the side door through the stone patio was preferred mostly, coming from the direction of the circular driveway. When entering the front door though, you found yourself in front of the staircase leading up to Mimi’s bedroom through a small hallway. From it was her bathroom, then was the laundry room and a tiny bedroom behind it. Downstairs, on your right was the formal living room, right behind it was the formal dining room with a double-faced wood burning fireplace, next to it the full bath and the entry to the farmhouse kitchen that Leanne's dad had built. This room had a row of cups that Mimi collected for all her kids and grandkids, hanging on tiny hooks just off the mantle. Opposite the built-in kitchen cabinets was a picture window looking out onto the patio. Off the kitchen was the family room that was frequently used, above it the dorm room that served as a bedroom for the kids.

The window looking out to the patio had a carved wooden figurine standing on the windowsill: a cow. I think that and the row of cups was my most Favorite part of the house. Next to the window was a hutch that had all the pies placed on top over Thanksgiving.

Oh, Thanksgiving was a whole other affair for this family. All family members came for a number of days. It's true, Thanksgiving is likely a bigger holiday here than Christmas. Everyone liked cooking here, food was and still is a big deal for the family, so typically they were searching for recipes for the turkey and the sides weeks or even months before the holiday took place. With all family members, kids with spouses and grandkids there, there were at least 20 people, so it was noisy, but it was fun. It reminded me somewhat of some of our family gatherings back home, but those were mostly about work done together, like processing livestock and then having a nice dinner at the end of the day, this was fancier, it was like in movies, especially that these times there was fire in the fireplace and everyone was dressed in their Sunday bests.

The day normally consisted of the turkey cooking competition and games out in the yard for the kids, which was American football, of course. At the beginning of dinner there was always a speech that stated what we were thankful for and after we had to vote for the best turkey. Traditionally there were 3 turkeys made. One by Spencer, one by Josh outside, smoked and one at Belle's house, where I believe Paul took responsibility for cooking.

Time went by fast, and we started talking about Christmas and New Year. It was strange that we were going to be away from home on Christmas, but we were looking forward to the experience. We were spending it in Prestown this time, not Upstate. With kids it doesn't really matter if it's a holiday or weekend, they need to be taken care of. As our workday was wrapping up, the kids' mom approached us in the kitchen while the whole of the extended family gathered in their living room. Someone built a fire in the fireplaces, that got the fire alarms going and soon a big red fire truck arrived and they went through every bit of the house. That surely made the evening memorable.

Soon New Year's Eve approached, which was a totally different experience, because my cousin invited me over to their New Year's Eve party in Chicago. It was really fun, and I felt valued as I was included in conversations, jokes and laughter.

First published on my website on May 1st, 2025.
https://harrietcorvine.com
Copyright © 2025 Harriet Corvine - All Rights Reserved.

https://open.substack.com/pub/harrietcorvine/p/harriet-corvine-another-life-episode-d17?r=5cwair&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true

Harriet Corvine
Another life

This is an autobiographical story.
Names, places and identifying features of characters have been changed to protect the privacy of those depicted.

Part II/Life II.

Chapter 12 Getting things settled

After spending some time in Maine, it was time to claim the new house in Prestown, South Westchester, NY. It must have been late September or early October when we arrived. As I recall, for a while it was just us, the kids and their mom as their father stayed behind in Chicago, wrapping up work before starting a new position in New York City. I loved that we lived in a town and not out in a closed community, because everything I needed was close by, I did not need to get on the train to go to the next village or get in a car to go to the mall. The area was charming, with a lot of Cape Cod style houses, stone walls, winding streets with lush trees and bushes. We lived about 5 minutes' walk away from the train station and we could be in Grand Central in about half an hour if we wanted to.

I took advantage of this on the days when I was free in the afternoons or free in general. Ve and I ventured to the city, where I bought a stuffed black cat that reminded me of Bandi my male cat that died shortly before I left.

We worked shifts. Starting at 7am, then one of us had a break while the kids had their morning nap, the other finished at around 5, having worked the hours in the morning, while the one with the break would work until 7pm, the kid's bedtime. We got into a routine and as much as I liked my new room, I often went out for walks to explore.

Normally it was during my walks when I called back home to check on my mom and give an update about how things were going with me. It was also when I called my boyfriend. As I recall, phone service was patchy while we were in Maine and we used to have roaming as well when we called any numbers out of state, so I did not even try. I used my mobile from home to send the occasional text messages. For calls we had to buy calling cards that had usually 5 dollars' worth of credit on them. You called the number on the back of the card and after scratching keyed in the code from there as well, so you could dial the phone number of your choice. In case of calling a mobile or cell phone costs were higher, so calling a landline was advisable.

So shortly after arriving in Prestown, I went out for a walk and called my boyfriend. We just got here, it was maybe a month after arriving and so many things happened, I felt confused. Almost everything worked differently here than back home. So, I asked how things were, and he blurted out that he slept with someone. I felt sad but mostly felt betrayed. He was supposed to be waiting for me. Since he didn't, I broke up with him. To be honest, looking back maybe that happened how it was supposed to. Not that I wanted to be cheated on, but our way of thinking was different, and it showed more and more getting closer to the date of my departure.

If the house in Maine was big, this would be a mansion, situated on a leafy street. It's built of stone with a huge, covered porch on the front and a covered area on the side for a car so we could get inside without getting wet in the rain. Entering the house, the lower level had a big foyer with a grand staircase and pocket doors to the formal living room. Off the living room, towards the back was the dining room, separated by another set of double sliding doors. All dark wood, polished. Both the living room and the foyer had wood-burning fireplaces. Off the kitchen was the laundry room, from there was a full bath with a shower, sink and toilet. Using the back stairs, we could land in the upstairs landing area, as well as by using the staircase in the foyer. But since we worked in the kitchen most of the time, we used the back stairs. The landing area was the size of a living room. From there were 4 doors and the staircase that led up to the 3rd floor. The second floor was where the family lived. Off to the right on the street side of the house was the master suite with a bath and a sunroom, behind it was the kids' nursery. Between the back stairs and the nursery was a big guest bathroom with a glass shower and a big tub, plus double sinks and a toilet. On the left of the back stairs and the right of the main staircase was a big guest bedroom with a queen size bed, while on the other side of the stairs, on the street side, just opposite the master suite was the office. It was the 3rd floor where we lived. Right next to the stairs was the other girl's room. She had dormer windows on 2 sides of her room. My room was next to hers; it had simple double windows looking out to the street. Luckily, they made sure that the bed box of my bed was lowered, so I did not have to climb up waist height, but my bed stayed at an acceptable knee-high level so I wasn't worried about falling off of it at night like that was the case back in their old place. Opposite my room was the shared bathroom with a shower over the tub, sink and toilet, flanked by another guest bedroom with 2 twin beds and a coat closet. At the end of the narrow hallway was a huge room that we used as a rec room/playroom for the kids. That's where Ve watched numerous episodes of Friends and where we went to watch the video tapes we rented from Blockbuster down at Main Street, aka Downtown. That was also where I watched Prince Charles marry Camilla.

First published on my website on April 29th, 2025.
https://harrietcorvine.com
Copyright © 2025 Harriet Corvine - All Rights Reserved.

Harriet Corvine
Another life

This is an autobiographical story.
Names, places and identifying features of characters have been changed to protect the privacy of those depicted.

Part II/Life II.

Chapter 11 Breaking the ice

She told me that if I wanted to meet my cousin in the city, then we should make it happen sooner rather than later because in the matter of about a week we were heading to Maine, the movers were coming to pack up the house and move all the belongings to New York by the time we get back from the holiday.

The morning came when I was ready to sit next to her in the car that came to pick us up from the house to take us to the city. They discussed where we were going to meet, where I was going to be dropped off and there we went. We sat in the back of the car, and I asked her how she managed to put on eyeliner in a moving car. Practice makes perfect, she said.

We arrived in the city; I got out of the car, and she went on to her meeting. Seeing my cousin was a happy occasion. Their faces were the only familiar ones that I saw in the past few weeks. I was not scared, but I must have been in some kind of shock still. Having them there was reassuring. After spending the day together, they drove me back to the house.

Soon after we were on the plane to Portland, Maine, where we got in a long car with 3 rows of seats and headed to the secluded house on the pond where we were going to meet their extended family for the first time.

The house was a log cabin with millions of rooms on 2 levels, a big kitchen, dining, living space being on the center and a huge screened-in porch running along the side of the house's lake side, a dock with Adirondack chairs to relax and bask out in the sun was also part of the deal.

When we had our instructions on Long Island, they told us that we will be staying with the Host family where they were going to welcome us into their lives so we can experience it. It was an experience for sure. If I lived the lowest lows growing up being poor and just getting by, they lived the highest highs. They couldn't be more different from me. But it was evident that they stuck together and loved each other fiercely. They belonged. And again, I found myself looking in from the outside.

The family members were all nice. It was mainly Leanne's family, given that Spencer's family resided in the vicinity of Chicago. Her family lived in New York State, Connecticut and Maine. We were in Maine now, where Camille and Clark lived. Camille is her sister. She has another sister, whom I met back home. She lived in my country at that time, so probably it was her doing that the family was looking for an Au Pair from there and not from elsewhere. So, Belle was not present with her husband, being a world away, on the other side of the ocean. But there were her brothers Josh and Scott and her mother, an older lady but very fashionable, wearing her silver hair in a stylish bun on the back of her head, Mimi. Genuinely friendly people, showing honest interest in us. So much so, that I started to believe that although I was employed there, I was worthy.

I remember, one time, when the kids were napping and I had no clue what to do, I wandered to the back screened-in porch, where I found Josh sitting, reading something, a book or a paper. He was tall with wavy brown hair and piercing blue eyes. Confident. We started a conversation where he asked me about my background, where I worked and if I travelled much before. We talked about China, that he travelled there before and I remember telling him that how captivating I found Pearl S Buck’s East Wind West Wind and how lucky I felt that we did not have those practices where girls' feet were tied tightly from early on to keep them from growing, since traditionally that was considered pretty there, not big feet. Soon we finished our chat, which was so much of a struggle for me as all thoughts that would normally just flow out of me were in my language and I had to try to quickly translate them. I dreaded talking at that point, but I had no choice.

They were all beautiful people. Even my new 'sister', Venus aka Ve was beautiful. It was like they just stepped out of a magazine, looking good effortlessly. All men had brown hair, Mimi had her silver hair now, and Belle was blonde, but she was back home. Leanne’s hair was dirty blond, almost light brown, shoulder length, straight, always combed back on one side and sprayed in a way that reminds me of news anchors on Good Morning America. Except when she was at home, she'd wear a t-shirt with PJ bottoms as loungers with her hair tied in a low ponytail. I don't remember their eye color, it might have been hazel, but the way they managed to look you in the eye and make you feel that they saw deep into your mind. They were magnetic. The bunch of them together was overwhelming.

The girl, my new sister for the year, was blonde but wicked smart, especially for her age being only around 18 she was a lot more worldly than I felt. I felt like a mouse, very much out of place even though I did not look bad, only as Ve put it: natural. I was trying to enjoy myself as much as I could, mostly unsuccessfully. Up until the first time I gave a bath to the kids in Maine. Taking the little girl out of the water, I dried her up and dressed her in her PJ, getting ready to take her to their room, when she patted the back of my shoulder in a way like she was to praise me, saying “Good Job, you”, right before she placed her head on said shoulder. Then she stole my heart.

Thank you for listening.

Till next time,
Harriet

First published on my website on April 26th, 2025. 1:00ET
https://harrietcorvine.com
Copyright © 2025 Harriet Corvine - All Rights Reserved.