The constant battle in my head. It’s like a never ending comparison of the tiniest things put together to try and make a case out of nothing.
The ambulances are too loud, people don’t know what side of the path to walk on, and the dip selection really is appalling. These are the stupid details that I linger on when I feel I’m getting too comfortable in London, when the idea of moving back to Australia becomes less of a reality and more of a bad dream.
The truth is, I want to ‘want to’ go back to Australia one day (I didn’t double up by accident just there). I feel like I’m always trying to talk myself into wanting to return one day in the not too distant future, but my heart is just nowhere near ready for that yet.
There’s so many things that feel would be impossible to give up, now that I’ve had a taste of them.
The endless amount of galleries and exhibitions. The constant stream of new bars, cafés and restaurants opening. The shopping, so much shopping. The amazing public transport. The fact that getting to Italy takes less time than getting to Perth. The constant buzz on the streets and all around me. Always being surrounded by people, from all walks of life, and never being afraid to walk home at night. Incredible culture and diversity – hearing 10 different languages in one train carriage. Cheap booze and groceries. The house parties, so many house parties. The dinner parties too. Everyone coming together to catch up over Sunday roasts at the pub. The exciting career opportunities. The fact that I get to do what I love for a living, and on such a grand scale for the whole of Europe, in over 25 languages. The parties on the last tube home, or that unspoken acknowledgement of your fellow drunk passengers on the night bus. The idea of holiday houses in France or Spain. That feeling of really living your life exactly the way you want to, not having to make excuses for anything or anyone, just really letting go and being who you want to be, and learning a shit load about yourself along the way.
Australia is a very beautiful country. I can day dream about the sun and beaches all day long, but the fact is that my life in London is just so stripped back for me. Ok I’ll always need nice clothes, but I feel like my priorities are so different here than they are back home. Here I’m living life purely for the experiences. I love not driving a car or not having the latest gadget soup maker at home. I don’t need a fucking soup maker. I can make it myself. I crave the feeling of trying something new, of seeing a place I’ve never seen before, of opening myself up to meet amazing new people, and discover new hobbies and talents that I never knew I had. This is 100% ‘me’ time, and it’s very rare to have an opportunity like that, so I have to take advantage and squeeze every last drop out of what I have going here.
One day I want to have nice things too and I look forward to being totally content with that, but right now I can’t imagine life any other way. For now, I will continue on with this new life in London, with the hope that one day I will have had enough and will be ready to move back home.