Currently having a massive freak out.

I'm moving to Australia.

I'm moving to Australia.

I'm moving. To Australia.

I've said this countless times to myself recently, but it's only just starting to actually mean something. In just over a month I'm going to be saying goodbye; not just to people I love but to a city that I call my home. Leaving London is a wrench and the first step starts this weekend when I have to move out of my gorgeous flat (which is complete with gorgeous flatmates).

It's always seemed so far away, so distant and with countless obstacles and events that it never seemed like the day I leave would actually arrive. The prospect of actually having to move out and away didn't really do anything other than hover in my peripheral vision.

Yet it's happened. Time has continued to run forwards, with no intervention. I can reveal that it's actually a rather terrifying feeling; I'd liken it to running down a hill and feeling your legs run ahead of you. My brain really needs to catch up with what's happening.

This is probably a very normal feeling. I'm fully aware of how lucky I am, and I really couldn't be happier. Come on - I'm not going to see a winter for two years! But I'm also not going to see the UK...meep.

Apologies for the self-centred moan, but I really do feel better for it. Catharsis &c. Can you all just come with me? Please?

Or alternatively give me a good old-fashioned slap. Thanks guys.

(Christ, I think I've used 'I' about 20 times in this post. That's never a good thing!)

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