Today it is March 28th – a date that will be forever etched into my mind.
The reason is that it was the date, in 2012, that I zipped up my suitcase and headed off to Sydney airport for a flight to the UK … only this time, clutching a one-way ticket and lugging all my remaining possessions with me.
Perhaps lost in all the drama surrounding the impending arrival of the tempest that was St Jude’s storm, last weekend also marked that annual ritual of putting the clocks back.
Overnight, journeys home from work, previously undertaken in a sort of weak, dappled sunlight, were suddenly plunged into premature darkness with the prospect of this scenario continuing for another 5 months or so.
With Sydney basking in ‘the hottest May day since 1942’ and the rain sleeting down here in Sussex, I felt I should tackle the elephant in the room.Yes, you’ve guessed it, the weather.
Ever since I announced my move, the topic has featured in just about every conversation I have taken part in with the flow generally taking a similar direction…. “how can you leave this?” or “how can you go back to that?”
It seems that the weather is an obsession in both Australia and England. For Australians, it is a continual source of patriotic pride, whilst for the English, it is a constant source of national shame.