March 23rd, 1982

Thirty years ago today my family left the UK and emigrated to Australia. It was 1982, Thatcher’s Britain, we lived in the North where the miners were on strike, things were bad. My parents decided that it would be easier to take three difficult teenagers to live on the other side of the world. In their position, I think I would rather have faced striking miners!

Australia, with Attitude

Twenty years ago I decided to go to LA for three weeks. It was 1992. I had fallen in love on a train in Central Australia; the man in question lived in Los Angeles and as I was going there anyway having just finished Uni, it seemed like a good idea to go and see him. Little did I know that three weeks would turn into twenty years.


In 2002 I met and fell in love with a man who took me sailing from California to El Salvador. Sailing is very slow, it took a long time and so my departure was postponed for several more years.


In 2012 I haven’t fallen in love (yet), there aren’t any striking miners and I’m not going sailing (as far as I can tell) so it seemed like, with all the other options exhausted, I may as well come back to the UK. I’ve come full circle and while there have been lots of ups and downs, it’s never been been dull.

And so finally after thirty years, three passports and an accent which I’ve decided is Engralican (and there are very few of us) now when someone asks me where I’m from, I can just say “Yorkshire.”

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