Home Is Where The Stomach Is?

It has been three years since I was last in Australia. Generally I go back every 18 months or so, but the pandemic threw that timeline out of whack. Once airlines started flying again, flights were limited, rules and restrictions were tight, and prices were beyond ridiculous. In the end I figured I would wait until things were a bit more back to normal.

Sometimes I am asked if I miss Australia, and I suppose I do - not in any yearning, sit at home, homesick kind of way, but there are times when I feel like I would quite like to go somewhere or do something over there. Mostly I just miss my family and friends.

I belong to an expat group on Facebook. For the most part it's encouraging, supportive and fun and I quite enjoy it. People regularly share tips on like in the UK, including which shops currently have Tim Tams and other goodies for sale. Others share pictures of care packages sent from loved ones. Sometimes we just get to joke about things that make no sense if we say them to Brits. ("Lock it in, Eddie" was mentioned recently)

Personally, I'm don't yearn for Australian snacks and sweets in the same way others do, although occasionally I would love a dim sim or a Chiko roll. Just one, and then I'd be good to go for another year. But there are some on there who are in the UK because they married a Brit, and are desperately homesick. I feel for them. Homesickness can be a terrible thing.

I don't feel that personally. Maybe because I was born here, and to me this has always felt like home anyway. Maybe because I enjoy my job and have my wife's family close by, or maybe because my feelings just don't work that way.

I look forward to going back. When it happens, I'll relish the time spent there, in the company of friends and family. And expect me to return here with a couple of extra kilos round my waist.