I was 18 years old, fresh out of high school and juggling two shitty jobs to save up for my first adult overseas adventure. Circa 2013, why did I choose the UK?

There are countless reasons to love the UK! For starters, it is beautiful and rich in history, promising a land of diverse landscapes and accents all within a relatively small area. While in Australia one will need to commit to a long drive to reach destinations within the same state, the UK allows one to easily visit “countries within a country”. Plus, it is an ideal base for exploring the rest of Europe, with easy access via air, rail or road (insert: glorious memory of paying 14 quid for a Megabus ticket to reach Paris from Newcastle).

My mum, being British herself, told me plenty of stories over the years about her childhood and lifestyle abroad. Mum was born and raised in the bustling metropolis of Newcastle upon Tyne. She was a keen traveller in her early twenties, until she met my dad in Australia and decided to stay put. Two babies in tow, she set up camp (literally) alongside my father in Lightening Ridge, NSW, and that was that!

I have some hazy memories of jet-setting to the UK as a hyperactive small child. My little brother and I were greeted (and spoilt rotten) by long-distance relatives – like grandfather, who kept our pockets full to the brim with hard-boiled sweets. I vaguely remember licking the walls of stone castles, playing with older cousins and melting into hot baths that enveloped the cold room in thick steam.

Before long, we returned to the land down under. My mother states that I refused to entertain the idea of migrating – for I would miss the kangaroos, wombats and koalas, of course! Many, many years later, I was infatuated with the idea of ‘returning’ to the UK.

Aimee and I did not alert my long-distance family members as to our plans or whereabouts, let alone the fact that we were in the country.

While I am certain my mum must have given them a heads-up, we simply ‘rocked up’. I asked my mum for an Aunty’s email address when we had already arrived in Newcastle by Megabus. With that, I simply sent an email, something along the lines of: “We are in the neighbourhood – can we come stay with you? Also, where do you live?”. Absolutely ridiculous.

My poor Aunt was at work at the time and was left with very little choice re: our arrival. She ended up housing us for a few weeks before we found work and proceeded up North to Scotland. She warmly sought to get to know us, while we cooked dinner every couple of nights in a sincere attempt to contribute.

In my travel diary an entry declares: “I fell down the stairs and took a sliver out of the wall, and Aimee left a lighter on top of the fireplace which melted. Home repairs are currently in place.”. My Aunt, kind and unflappable, became a constant source of comfort to us for the next two years.

Having family (albeit perfect strangers in the beginning) in the new country we were exploring was certainly a benefit and a blessing. We visited and stayed with multiple Aunts and Uncles. We got the chance to hang out with my cousins and found that we always had someone to see or somewhere to sleep when we were ‘in the area’.

Looking back, it was perfect. We were young for 18/19 year olds – and that is saying something! Newcastle was our safety net – we would return from trips to Europe, broke and tired, in need of a glass of wine and a brief rest from the constant go-go-go of backpacking.

Having the opportunity to ‘meet’ family was such a special part about choosing the UK. We crammed so much into the several years abroad, and to this day I feel utterly nostalgic over the time spent there. The UK is but a hop, skip and a short flight (or bus/train ride!) to a long list of European countries and we certainly made our mark!