Swans are different in Australia

Hiiii world!!

This highly overdue blog post is coming to you all the way from the other side of the world! I made it to Australia baby! There is a Camberwell here. And the swans are black.

My life has changed pretty dramatically in the last week. I’ve gone from spending my days trying to teach toddlers how to clap in time and my evenings eating soup that has kale in it, to spending my days celebrating in 30+ temperatures and my evenings rolling in aftersun and remembering how much I’ve missed checking every single mole for cancer. This is the dream!!

The road to Australia was not easy. To say I was scared of the flight is an understatement. I’ve discovered I can be pretty morbid when it comes to long-haul air travel. A week before I left I woke Ed in the middle of the night to tell him my uncontrollable fears and he had to send me a meditation podcast to calm me down. I was scared of the engines failing. I was scared of the slippery eggs they claimed to serve for breakfast. I was scared of my Ab Fab series not loading.

I have an anxiety problem where I believe that if I imagine everything that could possibly go wrong I’ve at least got it covered and then there won’t be any horrible surprises. The eggs were fine. Ab Fab was more than fine. There was minor turbulence but I had my Harry Potter soundtrack to soothe me and the plane stayed in the sky at all the appropriate times. Smashed it!

Until I got to China. Where everything changed.

What was the ONE thing I had forgotten to worry about in advance? The ONE worldwide phenomenon more fearful than slippery eggs, that showcased itself so terrifyingly in the form of an aeroplane pamphlet?

Bloody Ebola.

By this point I was so high on surviving the first stopover I wasn’t paralysed with anxiety when I got on the second plane. It was all going smoothly until we were handed our travel health declaration forms and the man next to me proceeded to tick and check every single country currently hosting the Ebola virus as visited in the last 21 days. I have this thing where I’m a) a hypochondriac and b) my throat swells up when I’m anxious. Needless to say I spent the next 9 hours examining him as subtly as I could for symptoms, concentrating very hard on my own limbs to see if I could sense any onset of fatigue or muscle ache, whilst trying to loosen my own comatose oesophagus enough to ask him WHAT THE HELL WAS HE THINKING?

He was actually a really nice man and he didn’t sweat at all and he gave me his butter for my roll so we left on good terms just before he went into quarantine and I’ve pulled myself together enough to limit my self imposed health checks to once a day now.

After all that, I realised even more so that this trip HAD to be once in a life time. I’m looking for change, for inspiration. I want to find myself. I should clarify, by find myself, I above all mean find a view and/or selfie so spectacular it can finally replace my Jennifer Lawrence cover photo. So far I have found…Factor 50 isn’t sufficient…some birds sound like squeaky toys…bananas smell stronger here…and typing this on an iPad is extremely hard.

I’m currently in Melbourne staying with my best friend and her boyfriend (who are the kindest, fittest and best hosts ever so thank you Sian and Tom!) until Tuesday when I fly to Adelaide to start a fringe festival adventure with Tamar Broadbent. Plenty of stories to come your way I am SURE – we’ll be living in a cabin so I imagine spiders are happening. This is it for now – I am off to discover who I truly am – by a pool, and then a barbecue. Tonnes of love!

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