So 10 years ago tomorrow I got off the plane at Heathrow, was bundled onto the 285 bus by my aunt and given the keys to her house. It was all slightly familiar after having been here the year before but I was young, free and single and thinking about spending a couple of years in England. 10 years later, I’ve only been back for holidays and while the thought of going back to SA to live has crossed my mind a few times, it’s never been a serious thought or even a possibility.
I’ve moved house 13 times.
I’ve kissed a lot of boys
I’ve had 2 serious boyfriends and quite a few of lovely flings
I’ve borrowed a lot of money
I’ve paid a lot of it back
I’ve gained a cat
I’ve gained 20kgs
And lost 10kgs
I’ve gained a new respect for myself
And found out where my limits lie
I’ve discovered the joy of good restaurants
I’ve learnt to cook
I’ve drunk too much regularly
I’ve bought too many clothes
I’ve dealt with a shopping addiction
I can navigate London with ease
I’ve owned 6 cars
I’ve learned the joy of exercise
I’ve done Atkins, Low-fat, and a million other diets and learnt that nothing works except listening to your body
I’ve gotten a tattoo
I’ve learned to like olives(!)
I’ve been to some amazing countries
I still hate camping
I’ve learned to cope
I’m still struggling with stress and how to deal with it.
I’ve had more jobs than I can possibly count
I’ve learnt that I’m pretty good at my job
A career isn’t everything.
I could go on for a while. I’m reasonably happy with that tho. I can’t believe it’s been 10 years tho and this was always supposed to be a stopgap before I got on with being an adult. That sounds so terribly boring now, I don’t really want to grow up properly. Fun would be much better than a relentless nose to the grindstone and being responsible and staid all the time.
Wow tho. 10 years.