things you only know if you’ve moved to the other side of the world

In 2015, I broke up with my boyfriend of seven years, I considered getting a drastic haircut. The only problem is that I'm fond of my long, scraggly mane. So instead, I packed my life into a whopping great suitcase and moved to the other side of the world. I was born in Sydney, where I was living at the time, but my mother is from a little English village, meaning I have a British passport. It was over a roast chicken dinner, just a few months after the break-up - the most significant of my life - that Mum had casually suggested I put that passport to good use and visit London.

I didn't take much persuading: I booked a one-way tickets the next day. I was ready for a change, promptly quitting my 7am-10pm job as a senior editor on a women's website and giving one hell of a candid exit interview (the prospect of being about to escape the country gave me diabolical courage). And so, after 27 years of living within walking distance of hot golden sand and the Pacific Ocean, I left for a land of squirrel, monarchs, and fish and chips. Twenty-five hours later I arrived in my new home, unsure whether I'd be here for a month or a lifetime. It was the most impulsive thing I've ever done and totally changed the course of my life.

From the start, I embraced the, well, Britishness of it all. Soon after landing in London, I serendipitously ended up working for JK Rowling's website, writing about wizards for a living. Sunday roasts became an instant ritual. I bought thermals. I went to the Tower of London three times. I booked £29 tickets to European cities, astonished that I could be in an entirely different country in two hours (it takes half a day to fly across Australia). I downloaded CityMapper so I'd know where I was in this easy, grey metropolis. I lived above a pub with strangers. I made new friends, I met new people. I swiped right on a Scottish lawyer, an Indian model and a Northern scientist who wore cardigans. And then I met the love of my life.

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