“What the hell are you doing in the UK?”
“Why would you leave Australia for this?”
Because, when you wake up in your own sweat for nearly 25 years, have been sunburned more times than laid, and a couple English blokes you met last year told you that girls in the UK love Australian accents, you feel like trying it out. Plus I was no longer interested in pathetically attempting to claw my way into the closed-group Australian music industry, or working soul-crushing office ‘career’ jobs sat next to fat, miserable people.
I had no clue what was out here for me, but I think I’m slowly finding it. Or at least, finding the beginning of the path to follow. Despite being in a job I never expected to somewhat enjoy (but do), which pays less than half of my previous jobs back home, I am legitimately happier week to week. I’ve been casually dating a nice girl from Manchester or Chesterfield or somewhere. I am barely ever anxious anymore. Except about weird pains around my right kidney. But they’re mere passing thoughts in comparison to the anxious hell I drifted in and out of for the last three or four years back home. I have no explanation as to why.
I’m determined to keep my Australian accent. Except I’ve been here six weeks and have already started saying “hiya, y’allright?” upon every greeting.
I miss the beach and the dog, but not much else at this point.