The time finally came and I found myself, on a GWR train on the way to down to the edge of Dartmoor in Devon. All the months of wondering how this moment would feel manifested in this exact moment. The only way I could describe it, is utterly surreal.

I had taken that train ride so many times before. Of course always knowing it was a holiday, a return airfare booked to carry me back home to life in Australia. This was the first time where there was no return. It was a one-way trip, the last act of certainty on a trip laden with adventure, spontaneity and embracing the unknown.

I know I am truly blessed to be able to take this opportunity. It’s something I’ve long dreamed of doing, yet avoided for the best part of a decade because of crippling fears, and that voice constantly asking “but what if? And not in a good way.

All that washed away the minute I arrived in the glorious village that edged the Moor, home to our dearest family friends. This place has always felt like a second home, and I was overcome with the feeling that I was in the right place at the right time.

“This place has always felt like a second home, and I was overcome with the feeling that I was in the right place at the right time.”

The light here in the morning has been utterly delightful, a pure joy in the coolness of the breaking morn. The sweet birdsongs of Robins, Great Tits and Dunnocks, fill the air, heralding the dawn of a new day, and to stop, observe and listen. That voice that so desperately screamed for attention for validation in my head as to where my life was headed was vanquished in a few short bird trills. At this moment, at this time, I am where I need to be. At last the tranquility within matched the tranquility of the surrounding glory of nature.