Mission accomplished : moved countries. Since early November, we’ve been camped out in various temporary apartments, hotel rooms, family fold-out couches and sky-beds. This week – finally – the transition is complete; lease signed, keys picked up, and a flat moved into. Life can move on, albeit with a small several-thousand-kilometre shift.

Was it hard? Not really. Would I do it again? Most certainly. Any of my apprehension about moving to London has disappeared amidst a smooth roll back into vfx work (Double Negative) after a successful writing break (major draft done, hardcore edit stage begun). That aside, it’s just great being here – back in a city with a decent enough population density that you can service, pretty much, your every whim when it comes to food / services / convenience / culture / technology / interconnectivity, and suddenly half my daily tech/online arsenal has just taken a major upgrade hit. It’s great being back in a city with one of my oldest, bestest friends. It’s great not only being excited about the future, but re-envigorated with the things I’m still going to be doing in the meantime while the master plan plays out. It’s great that both of us have landed gently on our feet (well, one at least, in the case of my metatarsally-challenged other half) and that it won’t be the case of one suffering in a homesick, whiny pit while the other shines and thrives. I love our new flat. I love the boris bikes. I hate the pessimistic media (which I’m avoiding most contact with like the plague) and hate that people don’t treat each other very politely as strangers here (and the shitty, over-priced, sometimes-horse-substituted meat produce). It’s not perfect, but it’s mostly ticks, not crosses, and certainly more ticks than Australia has been offering up for me these last couple of years.

It’s been hard to find that routine stride this week – not settled, trying to move house, waiting on internet connections – and avoiding actual writing/blogging in the interim. Logistics tend to win in any battle between “sorting out your shelter needs” and “piss-farting around with the written word”; mentally, more than anything. But having said that, it hasn’t been stressful. It’s mostly been smiles, excruciating muscle fatigue (back at the gym regularly after nearly two months) and perhaps a little bit of a finger-up quiet smugness that we made it, and it wasn’t as hard as all that.

Now…. where were we then?