How to start? Cliché, cliché, cliché, is all I can think of. So I’ll just say it. A few days ago my dog died. And I’m devastated.
In three sleeps I’m flying to Australia for a month.
I’m so not ready.
When I made the decision to remain, for an unspecified amount of time, in Austria, I broke a promise.
I broke a promise to my parents, and along with that I broke a promise to my best friend in the world – my dog.
I’ve been back to Australia three times since moving to Austria, but it wasn’t until the most recent trip that it actually felt like a holiday.
The first time, triggered by an expiring plane ticket, was spent madly running around, organising documents, throwing stuff out and working out exactly what I would need in Austria for the next x number of months/years (under 30kg). The second time was our wedding, which, while it was perfect, involved quite a lot of time-consuming organisation which I could only do once I arrived in the country.