Well folks, it happened. I left the comforting bosom of my home for the last four years and high tailed it back to Perth, Australia. I’m heading back to uni, and while I’m still settling back in and before I work out how many of my old friends are still here, I’m taking advantage of the solitude and firing this little baby back up.
I also bought an iPad on route, and although it’s not the greatest to type on, I’m totally bloody obsessed and using it as much as humanly possible.
My friend Annalise once said, having moved interstate, that when in Sydney, when she referred to ‘home’ it meant Perth, but when in Perth ‘home’ was Sydney. I feel the same way, to a certain extent, although my first 12 hours back in Aus was filled with that lovely, warming, comforting welcome from family, and so I hadn’t felt too out of sorts. After eights hours kip and what I hope turns out to be a mild case of jet lag, I’m feeling the distance I’ve come, and hope that I can manage the tiny heart pain I feel from not being amongst my pals in Kent.
I think I’ve mentioned on here before how frequently I’ve packed up and left everything behind in my life. Primary school, secondary school, uni and first real job were all in different cities, the last one was even in a different country. It’s a pattern I don’t want to continue indefinitely, because it can be painful and isolating to the same extent that it’s exciting and refreshing. But here I am starting my new career back in my hometown, having left the life I created once again.
I wept as we flew into Perth, seeing the vast sky I told everyone about in England, with the phrase ‘I loves a sunburnt country’ repeating in mind. I can’t remember any of the poem past that, but it was enough to make me bulb semi-silently in the plane cabin. Although being away from England is strange, it’s a joy to be back, it truly is, if only for the weather!
But actually, it’s not only the weather, already I can see that. It’s being able to sit next to my dad in the car and not speak, not because we don’t have eighteen months to catch up on, but because we’re so comfortable with each other that we forget we’ve spent so long apart. It’s having coloured money again, and knowing once I get a job, that I’ll be paid fortnightly, not just the dreaded once a month. It’s being a local, not a foreigner. It’s knowing the lay of the land inherently, and not having to google map everything.
It’s going to be a strange old year, busy and challenging. Let’s see if I’m up to it.