Sechelt and a kick in the guts

"Have you ever thought about British Columbia?". "Huh?" I was pretending to do some paperwork in the living room, but was actually watching Hollyoaks and worrying about Chester's teen population. "British Columbia? In Canada?". My husband had been perusing the British Medical Journal Careers section (which I must confess, I often used to keep the table from wobbling) and had seen one of those appealing advertisements in the back "Are you fed up with your life? Do you need more excitement? Skiing and sailing?". They are the medical version of the wonder diet pills and cheap pashminas in the back of the Sunday paper mags.

"Not really" I replied, still wondering if Justin was going to get into more trouble and feeding my secret addiction, "I've never been there, but Seattle is nice, if a little rainy". I looked at the advertisement and it did seem appealing. To be perfectly honest (and I apologise to the Canadians reading the blog for I now know better), I had always seen Canada as 'a big boring version of America' having only seen the incredibly clean Toronto and the oddly Cana-French Montreal.

Healthmatch BC, a non-profit organisation, were holding a meeting in an obscure hotel off Regent's Park for doctors who were thinking about making the big step. In a small basement conference room a few hopefuls gathered, mostly ethnic minority doctors and a couple of elderly GP's, to watch the presentation. We were treated to a film of the epic scenery of BC, from the rockies to the ocean, interspersed with very positive interviews from docs who had made the move and had gone from being exhausted couch potatoes to extreme snowboarders and intrepid waterskiers. Our interest was piqued - it had been too long that I had been arriving home after 12 hour days and watching reality tv about people making the move to Australia and Spain.

As the idea percolated I got fatter and fatter (not just the chocolate creme frappucinos, but Fraser taking shape), we researched the internet for positions available and kept in touch with Healthmatch. Where did we want to be if we did go? Whistler where you can ski pretty much year round? In the Okanagan Valley, where the vine is king and the summers hot and dry? Or on Vancouver Island with its wilderness and whale-watching? The option to work in the city was not there according to the terms of the labour market, but we were ready to leave the city (somewhat propped up by visions of River Cottage and our own veggie patch) so this was not a worry.

We quite literally chose Sechelt from Google Earth - all the water and near enough to Vancouver to go when we needed the city fix. I was 22 weeks pregnant when we arrived in our future hometown and was beginning to worry that I hadn't yet heard from Fraser. We tucked ourselves into a little cottage in the grounds of the B&B and stood in wonder on the deck overlooking the Georgia Straits. Craig immediately jumped in the big hot-tub while I dangled my feet in the water (no boiling water for the big fat woman) and watched the sun fall over Vancouver Island beyond. The next morning I woke up with a start at 7am and felt a man kicking me, and it was not my husband for once. This was the clincher - there were all the job interviews where I was taken to the coffee shop and where my high heels were looked at in wonder, and the lady who accosted us in the street and wondered if we were new in town and the blue skies and delicious ice cream, but Fraser was pretty much the sign I needed.

Then there were hoops and hurdles, a paper trail and money crossing hands (and unfortunately a very sick Mommy and a big operation), as well as tearful farewells to our families and a fond au revoir to my home and my city of 27 years, London town.

So here we are - and the lady who came up to us to chat is now my patient and the coffee shop is next to my practice. But my high heels are pretty much in retirement.