A walk in Queens Park

The way London makes you feel is strange. Each day turning you more and more bipolar.

Some days London is amazing. On those days I couldn't wish to be anywhere else. On the others, Brisbane doesn't seem to bad after all. That's the problem with finding yourself. Knowing what exactly it is you set out to find. What if you already found it long before you left?

What if you already knew how you felt years ago and you just chose to ignore it. Or what if what you feel now is just standing in a burning room, not even slow dancing. I guess that's everybody's question. Isn't it always? When is it real? And when is enough enough? Maybe our problem is we spend so much time thinking of the past and future what ifs and not the present.

Living in Queens Park with the boys was so surreal. Looking back it was some of the best times I have had in London. 8 people in a 3 bedroom house sounds crowded but it was actually quite the opposite. It's crazy how close you grow to everyone being in that situation. I loved our family. For a while there it was as if we didn't need anyone else. And we didn't to be honest. I would be on the tube to work excited for the day to finish so I could get home and play. Even when we weren't doing anything in particular I would be so content. When the boys had to fly home it was horrible. Literally as if our whole London world had vanished.
That's the problem with London. People come and go to often. One minute your world seems so complete and the next you suddenly feel all alone again. Like that small fish you were when you first arrived. Adapting to the new house, a new routine and London without our little family has been one of the hardest challenges I've faced here so far. I still love London and I still have so much to achieve here before I go home but I am now back in the same mind frame of the 3 month mark. Confused, I guess. Trying to remind myself of all the reasons I came here. That this was my dream. Feeling home sick is just a state of mind. It's funny how when everything seems so perfect around you that you don't even think twice about home. Then suddenly you realise that home is always a place that only exists in your head. It doesn't matter where you live. As stupid as it sounds, wherever your heart is, that's home.

Sometimes though, I truly do forget how lucky I am. I was sitting on my balcony yesterday with some of the greatest friends I have made, looking out at the London sky line. How can you possibly be unhappy when you have a view of The Chard from your house. How many people can actually say that? How many people can go for dinner in Leister Square or walk through Portobello Markets just because?

- confused rat