All that had been recognisable to me now resided on the other side of the globe. Because suddenly everything I used to find familiar had vanished: schooners looked so small, car number plates were glaringly bright, I’d no idea where I could buy simple homewares like pillows, and wondered if I’d ever find a shopping slice of heaven to rival my staple faves that were housed either on my local High Street or in the bliss that was Oxford Circus.  You see, I’d assimilated so well to my London life that now I felt like more of a foreigner in my official homeland than I did in the Mother Country.

Then there was the not so small fact that my previously carefree existence as a backpacker – and ergo free from a live burdened by much in the form of responsibility – was coming to an abrupt end. Reality was about to bite in a big way and I was as ready to acknowledge that as I was the fact I was carrying excess baggage due to the “Heathrow injection” on my body! Denial was a far more pleasant place to be perched….

But fresh off the plane, and eager to keep the threatening jet-lag at bay, I took my first stroll through the streets of Lilyfield, grateful to have the hospitality of my cousin for a few days before I made my complete full circle trip back home to Coffs Harbour. Bound for the bus stop and a little jaunt into the city, the sun was warm on my skin and the scent of Jasmine lingered overhead, enticing my senses into memories of many summers gone by.

Once on board, I found the swirl of chatter around me to be almost abrasive. I wasn’t used to so very many Australian accents in one close proximity. For a minute I longed for the subdued surrounds of the London Underground – where ANY form of conversation was frowned upon (an unspoken rule if ever there was such thing!) unlike the cacophony of conversation I was now immersed in.

But then the bus veered onto the Pyrmont Bridge and my eyes were drawn to the reverential ANZAC Guard, standing tall, eyes downcast – and my first flutter of appreciation at being back was felt.

And finally, there it was. Exhaling with utter gratitude, I drank in the view unfurling before me: the stunning Sydney Harbour, the sails of the Opera House glinting in the September sun, the iconic “coat-hanger” Harbour Bridge imposing as it stretched out its own welcome my way.

Instantly I smiled. Without a background like this to embrace me on my first day back in Australia I could not longer deny it – I was happy AND I was home.   

A tale of two countries – happily (drunkenly) sporting my “bespoke joke” farewell gift from my English workmates – The Union Jack Geezer cap meets the Aussie corks of the Aukbra. The perfect present for someone who felt both places were “home”!