The one thing I miss the most about England (apart from my wonderful family) are the long summer evenings. Sunset varies by about an hour across the year in Hong Kong and we rarely see the sun past 7pm. Luckily the school holidays mean that for four lovely weeks I had the opportunity to head home and enjoy gardens, sunsets, strawberries, carpets, cheese, olives and overpriced train fares.
Before I moved out of Sheffield I read an article in the Guardian comment series ‘The graduate without a future’. Now, I don’t like to think I’m a graduate without a future but the reason it caught my eye was because it was titled ‘Moving back to your parents’ home: a survival guide’. I suddenly started to panic that maybe moving back home to save rent money for the trip might leave me crawling the walls and regressing into a moody, door-slamming teenager. Luckily, the walls are freshly painted and the carpets make doors un-slammable.
I’m going to miss Sheffield. I ended up here by accident really, following Mark to uni in the Steel City after nearly four years of a long distance relationship. It’s been a real home, somewhere I’ve been able to indulge in my northern, foodie and old man pub roots. Here I’ve had my first experience on the dole (one for the scrapbook!), paid my very first electricity bill, started a self-employed career doing something that I love and made some great friends along the way. All in all, a great success.
The decision to finally take the plunge and head off on a long-awaited trip was made shortly after some sound advice from my grandma…
“Travel now, while you’re young. Don’t bother waiting until you’ve saved up enough money, you never will. Sod it, you can deal with that afterwards. Go while you can still make the most of your experiences.”
So grandma, this big adventure in my life, as well as my incredible shortbread baking skills, is inspired by you. Thank you.