That time I packed up my life in a week and moved across the globe (London Diaries Part 1)

Why not

Welcome to part 1 of short autobiographical stories from my time in London in my early- mid 20s'. I believe everything happens for a reason, and writing about the past has always helped me process events and glean whatever life lessons I can.
I hope that by sharing these stories so you can learn from my experiences, too.

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It is an Australian rite of passage that when you reach a certain point of your 20’s (usually when you’re single and bored of the adult job you thought you wanted) , you start thinking that moving to London is a good idea.

That moment happened to me at 24, a little later than most, when I was travelling from country to country ‘discovering myself’ and happened to be in London for Notting Hill Carnival.

I was a freelance illustrator and content creator at the time who had never had an office job, so my reasons for moving to London were slightly different to my peers. London felt like a cliche, stereotypical move for an Australian girl still recovering from a breakup and I’d never considered it as a potential home. I was going to take off to Edinburgh, or Toronto, surely I was different?!

That was, until I spent a week in London during the summer of 2019, and changed my mind completely.

Looking back, my first impressions of London were deeply, deeply skewed. I visited during a week long heatwave that felt identical to a typical Sydney summer, except that the city was brimming with partying, dancing people with pints of beer spilling onto the streets.

The street names and places were all vaguely familiar to the ones I had grown up with: Oxford Street, Liverpool Street, Kings Cross etc. Except these streets were lined with tall, impressive buildings, centuries of history and double the population. It felt like a strange parallel, exciting universe to my home city.

At the time, Sydney was still affected by the strictest lockout laws and curfews- all instated when I was fresh out of high school and ready to party. The famous clubs my older sisters had told me stories about started to shut down, and our favourite small bars were struggling to stay open. After 10pm, the city became a ghost town. The only place to stay open past midnight was, suspiciously, the brand new casino.

London, by contrast, unfolded itself to me as this vibrant, energetic, exciting place. I met a group of Australian girls there who had already moved to the city, and they swiftly took me by the hand into the streets of Notting Hill to dance in the sunlight.

I had a taste and I wanted more of it.

Within weeks of getting home to Australia, I was sitting in a musty, dark consulate office applying for a UK visa.