It was really too short a time to have spent at home.
I spent three and a half weeks back in Australia in February, and for the first time in about five months I actually felt like myself, like there was more to my personality than aching sadness.
I landed in Sydney in the morning, and spent the day wandering around the city and generally revelling in the fact that I wasn’t wearing a coat, wasn’t being rained on or blown sideways by the wind. I was also struck by a few things that had faded in my memory of home:
1. Australia is ridiculously beautiful.
I have been aware of how living in an arguably ugly concrete and brick city, with a distinct lack of nature to break up the monotony of the buildings, has had a detrimental effect on my lifestyle and mood. Walking around the harbour, gardens and day tripping to the beach was like being fed the most flavoursome Italian meal after living on a diet of unflavoured rice. Trees! Flowers! Water! Birds! Space! The loveliest places I’ve been in Europe can’t compare with an even average Australian landscape.