In two days I'll have been home for a month, and I have no idea where the time has gone. Considering I don't have a job to pass my time, it's gone very quickly. I have been keeping myself busy with seeing friends, and after 10 days 'holiday' when I first got back I'm now jobhunting. Which is hideous, but needs to be done. At least the UK's job market is stronger than when I left a year ago.
Now I expected to plunge into travelling blues a few days after getting back, once the novelty of the home comforts and British food, and the cold weather, had worn off. But it still hasn't. I still love being able to get up in my own room, throw on my dressing gown and make myself a cup of tea in my favourite mug. (Non-British readers of this blog may laugh at that, but it's a very important ritual).
Even the wind and rain hasn't gotten me down too much. I understand how cold countries work, hot countries confused me. Two showers a day what?
I made a slideshow of my favourite photos from my trip a couple of weeks ago (condensing 15,000 to 177, which I think I should get an award for). That was really nice, to go back and see everywhere I visited and everything I did. Some of it I'd forgotten happened. I guess that's what happens when you cram a lot into a year.
One thing I'm really happy about is that it doesn't feel like a dream. It feels like I never left home, because I've slipped right back into British life, but I know I really did everything.
Now the next adventure is finding myself a job and becoming a real adult. And maybe also shifting the toad-in-the-hole, bangers and mash, and apple crumble with custard weight...