It’s been a long time between drinks on here. In the last month I’ve been in four different countries, eaten more dodgy plane food than anyone reasonably should and consumed a great many more passionfruit mojitos than I care to count.
It’s been a busy time what with Wedding 2.0 and all, but also a highly relaxing time, with ten days spent luxuriating in the Maldives on our long awaited honeymoon.
With all that snorkelling, sunbathing (beneath six layers of Banana Boat Extra Strength 30+), cocktail drinking, buffet bingeing and general doing-what-i-like-ness, you’d expect the return to reality to be a shock to the system. Indeed, I’ve written (okay, whinged) about post-holiday blues before. And yet, I find myself feeling inexpressibly happy as I tap out this blog post, while sitting on a rattly old government bus on my way home after an 8pm finish.
But why, I hear you ask? Is she just one of these insufferably joyful people who insist on finding the good in every situation? Fear not, dear readers, this isn’t the case. I’m this happy because I have some Very. Big. News.
We’re moving back to Paris. (This is usually followed by a squeal, and some cringe-worthy dance moves, which thankfully don’t translate on the web.)
After three years back in Australia, where Max has discovered and subsequently conquered every team sport in the country, made more friends than I in my hometown and charmed all my relatives, I say enough is enough. It’s my turn now.
The plan (you know I love a plan) for now is for me to work part-time as an English language teacher and use the other time for writing, going to the markets, picnicking, and general enjoying-of-my-daily-life. As far as plans go, I think it’s a good one.
I’m also working on an exciting new project, my own Paris experience tour company to be launched later this year. Watch this space!