My last one and my first two.

So I have officially been in the UK for just over two weeks and it’s absolutely flown by.

My last week in Sydney seemed to do just that too.

All of a sudden it was my last monday meeting. My last WIP with my manager, my last lunch with my work wives, my last eNewsletter, my last social media post and my last Friday afternoon music sesh.

My work wives were amazing, taking me out to lunch (Burger Bro – if you live in Sydney and are anywhere near Martin Place you NEED to try this place. I challenge you to finish everything they give you and not feel like you will never be able to eat again. AHHHMAZING BURGERS! Just saying but my burger had cheetos on it…. ’nuff said really.)

Anyway, I’m getting side-tracked by the food. The real part of this was going out to lunch with these girls. It was so lovely – they made me (yes made me) the most amazing card with such heartfelt messages and bought me such cute gifts (Nutella, a selfie-stick and a hoodie – these girls just know the keys to my heart) and we had such a fun lunch-time gossip sesh – that lunch right there goes into my top ten moments of if I could re-live I would. It’s the little things.

My last day at work saw me start my morning with a gorgeous bunch of flowers and a koala being popped on my desk by the EA – such a gorgeous woman who deserves nothing but the best in this world.

It continued with one of the managers walking in with a coffee and a cookie for me…and then another of my colleagues walking in with another coffee for me two minutes later. So I had two coffees before 9am. Again these peeps just know the way to my heart. You realise how awesome the people in your life really are when you say goodbye. Its a bit of sad irony really.

They put on the most adorable avo tea for me, showered me in even more gifts and made me feel very lucky to have been working for such a lovely group of people for the last two years.

And then, just like that, I was hugging my team goodbye and walking out of my office for the last time.

My last weekend in Sydney consisted of several farewells. First up my farewell in the city with all my friends. From The Argyle to the Lowenbrau to Jackson’s on George, I had an absolute ball. We danced, we chatted, we drank, we ate and we danced some more.

I was so thrilled (yet a little sad too) that my work wives were finally meeting my friendship fam bam for the first time and getting on swimmingly. I love my entire friendship circle and it was a little stressful at first to ensure all parties got on. Of course they would but I still stressed (Anxiety Girl: Leaping to the worst conclusion in a single bound!).

And then again, just like that, it was time to say goodbye.

This seemed to be something I needed to get used to – but I couldn’t.

It physically hurt every time someone hugged me goodbye. I hated it. I didn’t cry. But on the inside I was breaking – especially when my three besties all left at once.

No one preps you. Goodbyes suck.

The next day, waking up a little hung over but not too bad after a night on the couch (my cuz and her boyfie stayed at mine and commandeered my bed) it was time for farewell 3: the family edition.

Lunch at my Nonna and Nonno’s with all my loves and it was lovely.

Best food and lots of laughs. It was so good. But then, again, came the goodbyes.

My auntie refused to say it. she literally just kept scooting around me until she couldn’t delay anymore. My Nonno took me aside, made me stare in the mirror and told me to not trust anyone… not even myself (lol, god love him) and my nonna gave me a hug, a card and then went into the kitchen and had a little cry.

I cried when I was given the card. I cried when I was hugged by everyone. I cried when I got into the car and backed out of my grandparent’s place for the last time for at least two years.

So much emotion!

Farewell 4 was dinner at mum and dads with my sisters, bro-in-law, parents and my lil nephew. It ended with my sister saying “are you going to say bye to zia?” and my Nephew running into me for a hug with the parting words of “Bye zia, see you in two years” and then running out the door.

Uh…kaybye!

That night also consisted of stressful attempt number 12732867480923823 (NB: slight hyperbole) of packing, having a mental break down and my dad coming to the rescue and fitting everything in with 1kg to spare.

The suddenly, it was leaving day.

I got up early because I had promised one of my besties a last day brekkie by the beach, which was so good as she had had to leave early on the night of my farewell.

We breakfasted and chatted and had a big hug goodbye and then it was time to leave for the airport. My dad and my sisters took the day off so my whole family came to the airport.

Saying goodbye to my dog broke me. I started crying while giving her one last hug. I’d miss her cuddles.

The airport was as expected. Check in was painless and I was too nervous to eat anything. The departure gate loomed and no-one wanted to be first to say goodbye. But we did. And it sucked but it was always going to suck.

I got through the gates into customs still crying as the security guard took my passport from me  to check it. LOL, awks.

I cried as I went through security… forgot to pick up my iPad, had to go back for it and then got bomb tested. LOL, awks x 2.

I found my plane, boarded, found my seat (next to a lovely elderly couple from northern England) and got myself settled. And then suddenly we were taking off. I cried again. oh god how embarrassing. The lady next to me patted my arm and asked if I was ok. I smiled at her and stuttered out a yes and then turned back to the window to see my last glimpse of the city before we hit the run way.

Take off felt weird. I was gone – I was so sad to be leaving but at the same time so excited about what I had in front of me. Holy shit. I was actually moving to London. It was happening.

24.5 hours later I walked into customs, scared as shit because I didn’t know what to expect when I got to the desk with my visa (what questions would they ask? did I do everything right? what if they don”t let me in? y’know… norms) but it was actually painless. The guy took my passport, my finger prints, asked me what I was in London to do and let me through.

I was in. And I was so fucking excited.

Baggage claim was …. baggage claim. Conveyor belt broke down… my bag was the last one. Standard.

Then I was out of the arrivals gate walking up to someone I had oh so patiently been waiting to see for the last 6 months.

We caught the tube to Hammersmith and then the bus home. I walked in and met one of the roomies, had a shower and then took a one hour nap. I was woken up and taken out to explore what was to be my lil home village, have some dinner and then we walked home and I met the rest of the London fam bam before returning to bed.

Jet-lag is a bitch.

But that aside my last two and a bit weeks in London have been AMAZING!

• My first Friday I went out with the roomies for one of their birthdays to Jamie’s Italian.
• My best friend and her husband came down on Saturday from Manchester and we had lunch and then they came back to ours, met the roomies and ended up staying over, playing cards and drinking.
• Had breakfast in the city the next day and saw them off.
• Walked to Trafalgar Square and Buckingham Palace.
• Started meeting with recruiters.
• Had my first interview.
• Had dinner at one of the pubs in Putney.
• Took a day trip to Wimbledon.
• Caught the boat home from London.
• Went on a road trip down to Dartmouth for the Long Weekend.
• Saw a giant made out of chalk with a giant penis.
• Visited the smallest pub in England.
• Saw a castle and a few churches.
• Had my second interview.
• Went shopping at White City (very dangerous place to be with money…. and by very dangerous I mean awesome).
• Booked flights to Turkey.
• Made plans to drive from Barcelona to Nice.
• Have slowly let it sink in that I am actually now living in London.

Its been an absolute whirlwind 2.5 weeks (almost 3) and I’m loving every minute.

Don’t get me wrong. I’ve had shit days. I’ve had days I’ve woken up and not wanting to get up. I’ve had moments of homesickness and just crying for no reason in bed. The jet lag sucks. It’s fucking cold.

But the good times out weigh the bad and the bad never lasts long. And the cold…well, you just get used to it (helps it’s also going into summer).

It’s been amazing and if this is what can happen in two weeks then bring on the next two years.

L x