Repatriating in a foreign land

It’s been a long time since I last put pen to paper (in this case fingertips on keyboard), but you see I have been busy. Busy leaving London, busy traveling, busy settling back in Australia and then busy relocating back to London to call it home – WHAT???

On July the 14th 2016, after our exciting 18 months in London, we were ready to leave it all behind and head to Australia and “settle down”, which in our case of being married for three years means start breeding and live happily ever after, close to family so we can abuse the proximity of our parents for free baby-sitting duties.

But something changed. We were in Shanghai when Mrs FOMOist finally came to the realisation that she didn’t actually want to go live in the Sunny State of Queensland, and the thought of “settling down” with only my mug around isn’t as scary as she may have initially thought.

So the turn of events went something like this:

1. Pack up our apartment in London and ship our belongings to Australia in June 2016
2. Move in with friends between June and July 2016
3. Start our travel in July 2016
4. Get drunk in Buenos Aires in September and decide to visit London again from Shanghai “enroute” our travels
5. Arrive in London in October and almost get held up at the border because the Border Control Officer didn’t quite relate to or understand our need to visit London again… is it really that bad of a place I wanted to ask? But I didn’t.
6. Continue our travels flying from London to mainland China.
7. Mrs FOMOist decides on her own (without any influence from yours humbly) that she wants to go back to London and call it home.
8. Break the news to Mrs FOMOist‘s mum while we were in Sri Lanka. Never seen her that disappointed and angry in my life!
9. Keep pretending to all other family members in Singapore that we are headed to Brisbane to call it home.
10. Arrive in Brisbane on the 13 November and break the news as soon as we arrive. Lots of tears, hugs and emotionally overcharged support from the family.

While we were in Australia, one of our friends asked us why we were moving back. Even now when I try to answer that question, the only answer I have is “because London feels like home”. Was the move financially sensible? – No. Is it going to be easy “settling down” on our own? – No. Is it because of the beautiful weather? – Hell no. Are we happy? – YES, and that’s all that matters.

This is the first time that Mrs FOMOist and I have truly understood the meaning of “Home is where the heart is”. On paper, given the cost, is potentially the most stupid thing we have ever done, but are we happy?

We couldn’t be happier to be back to Blighty.