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I’ve been trying to fight it, but I finally admitted it out loud a couple of days ago, that I maybe, I might, could, want to, think about, possibly moving again. And for those who are new to this blog, when I talk about ‘moving’, I don’t mean down the block. I’m talking continents. 

Where? How? When? Well, I haven’t got that far in the thought process yet. As I’m trying to touch all the continents, I would most likely say South America or Africa. It would be a toss up between Brazil or Ghana. What would I do in those places? I have no clue. Admire the 3Bs (Beautiful Brazilian Boys)? Learn African dance? 

But on the other hand, I am very home sick right now. Could this mean I’d move back to London? I never thought I’d say that. But you know, the longer you stay away from a place, the more attractive it seems. I’ve made great friends here in Toronto, but it’s not the same as your friends from back home. They don’t know the history, they don’t get the jokes. Not to mention the shopping debate. Frankly, I don’t know how I’ve last this long in North America. London shits all over it in the style stakes – yeah, I said it! It’s just a fact. We dress better. And I really, truly, madly, deeply miss the shopping. And I miss seeing people who give a crap about the way they look. Too many fools over here are still rocking crocs and leggings for me to ever be able to take Canada seriously on the fashion front. 

I miss gritty grime music in clubs. I miss diversity. I miss people not thinking I’m Australian. I miss being able to say the word ‘tomato’ in a restaurant and not have the waiter look at me like I’ve got three heads (it’s tom-ahh-to bitches, not tom-ay-to!) I miss the possibility of a decent career, rather than being stuck in a job that I loathe (as I am now). I miss art shows, artists, cool people. I miss Nandos – damn that’s good chicken. And yes, there is a Nandos in Toronto, but there’s like, one, whereas in London, there’s one on pretty much every corner. 

Maybe I’m just home sick. 

I’ve been in Canada two years now. That’s the longest I’ve stayed anywhere in a while. So, this might just be a natural reaction to that. Just itchy feet. I should really talk to my mama – trace our roots back. Maybe somewhere on my Irish side, we really did come from a long line of gypsies. 

Whatever it is that I’m trying to do with my career, it just doesn’t seem to be happening. So, what exactly am I sticking around for? I know I have to pick a place and settle eventually, but I don’t know if I’ve managed to shake my curiosity about the other places I want to go yet. Though, by the same token, nothing’s ever gonna happen for me if I don’t give it time and stick it out somewhere. 

With all of that said, the one thing holding me back is that I hate moving. Seriously, hate it with a passion. The packing, the shipping, the storage. I can’t stand it. 

Actually, I think I just talked myself out of it. I’ll stay put a little while longer.