By June 2011, I’d been away for a year and 8 months.
I loved the sun, I loved the parties and the beach. Having barbecues in the park and so many friends. Stepping out of an air-conditioned office and in to the lunchbreak warmth outside. Arriving home from work and hearing laughter coming from the pool. Sitting on a sun deck at 11pm and still not needing a jumper.
I missed a double bed, a bath, my own kitchen and a TV. I missed having someone who really knew me, I missed my family and someone to cuddle on the sofa with a DVD. I missed the seasonal change, Christmas and a Sunday roast.
Most of all, I missed the opportunity to build anything that I would actually get to keep.
With three months left on visa I made a huge decision. All the backpacking Brits I met had their eyes on the one same prize. Everyone was on the trail of sponsorship. The golden opportunity to leave the UK and live a new life under the sun.
My boss, and one of the people I trusted most in Australia, wanted to hand me sponsorship on a plate. I had worked for him for 3 months in Brisbane when he offered to sort the fees and call a lawyer straight away to find out about the paperwork that would give me another two years to work towards permanent residency.
I took a flight back to Sydney to spend my final months on Bondi.
I know what you’re thinking and the truth is, I don’t really know why.