In 1992 I came home from Australia for my first time in 20 years, with the help of a loan from my civil service Credit Union. I had considered a coach trip from Adelaide to Darwin and a return journey on the world famous railway The Ghan. However, I had just got back in contact with my family after all those years and figured out that it would cost no more to return home – I would save on accommodation and the flight from Sydney to Adelaide – so I booked a 6 week holiday, 2 weeks without pay!

There was a bit of a problem with my loan but I pointed out that it had been approved in principle and I had fulfilled the requirements asked of me, I had paid a non-refundable deposit when booking my flight and my family were expecting me. I got my loan but there was was more trouble ahead, a fueller’s strike in Melbourne saw our flight delayed for 11 hours when we had already passed through passport control! I was a smoker back then and they did provide a special area where we could go although smoking was generally banned within the airport. They were legally bound to provide us with a meal and I’m sure the food provided was beyond the minimum standard.

Passengers only intending to travel to Melbourne were transferred to a domestic flight; the rest of us finally got seats on a flight that bypassed Melbourne and Singapore and flew directly to Kuala Lumpur which cut several hours off our flight time. My mother and sister only had to wait 5 hours for my arrival and as we disembarked my sister said “Is that him? Never mind, we’ll take him” 🙄

As a childless bachelor I enjoyed meeting my nephews and nieces – the eldest, born 2 months after I emigrated is now a grandfather (that’s him in the redcap below with his daughter) whereas my youngest niece had yet to be born. My sister Heather said to Mum “He’s good with kids isn’t he?” Mum replied “He always has been.” Heather was 10 years old when I emigrated and we have a younger sister. She’s not in this photo as we were in Norfolk, I’m the one in the sailor cap and sunglasses 😎

The flight back to Sydney was uneventful if uncomfortable. On arrival I booked into a cheap hotel where I had stayed before. The taxi driver drove me from the railway station (a distance I could have walked without luggage) drove right past it before having to turn back at the next junction. He accepted a fare that I considered reasonable rather than what was on the clock. It was his mistake and I would have been justified in not paying him anything.

I still faced a 2 hour train journey from Sydney to Newcastle and I had arrived back in Australia on the weekend that the Sydney Harbour Tunnel opened. The train was packed and I had to sit on my suitcase for half of the journey. The upshot was that I was back at my desk for a mere 20 minutes and spent the rest of the week flat on my back with a degenerative disc disorder brought on by my journey and from which I still suffer. It was rather fortunate that I was at my desk when the pain hit, I was able to claim worker’s compensation for the time I needed to take off.

My colleagues at my previous office knew about my proposed visit home and gave a beautiful photo album as a leaving present, so of course I had to drop in to show them the photos I had taken when I had a day off. One former colleague seemed to take quite a fancy to my step-nephew-in-law 😅

The following year my mother visited me in Australia and I was able to introduce her to some of my friends. My next door neighbour happened to be at the station when I met Mum and not only gave us a lift home but also provided transport for several outings, saving the cost of a hire car. We also spent a weekend with my Cousin in Sydney, although Janet and I had visited each other previously.

This is a photo of a barbecue when Mum was visiting, that’s her on the right with my neighbour Heather seated next to her. The others are friends from university including my mentors wearing headware and two more mature students 😀

Sadly my life in Australia was starting to go downhill. I had recovered from a relationship breakdown but was suffering from work related stress exacerbated by my boss, the only man in the office older than me who thought I would perform better at his level but was determined I should not be promoted. I was told by a psychiatrist that I needed to get out of that environment but was denied a transfer until my performance improved – which is like saying you can’t have your medication until you prove you don’t need it. I just gave up and allowed them to go through the 6 month process it required to fire me. I got a larger payout than I would have done if I had resigned but it took my annual income to a level where I was required to pay my student debt in full when it would have taken several years before I earned enough to start paying it back if I had remained in employment and most of it was locked away in an account that I would not have been able to access until I turned 55 had I not chosen to return to the UK.

I doubted how long I could remain sober and retain the tenancy of my flat, the first place I could call a home of my own, when I had to draw on my savings to pay my electricity bill – I couldn’t withdraw less than $100 even if I only needed $20. Job opportunities were in Sydney, 2 hours by train each way to attend an interview with no mobile phone to let them know I would be late, and I wasn’t about to move to Sydney without a job to go to. Ironically I was rejected for a job at a Sydney university as I was “over qualified” 🙄

I had enrolled for a masters degree at the University of Newcastle but found it difficult to get motivated. I would need to complete a PhD for an academic career and I couldn’t expect to do so before I turned 50 and employment opportunities were reduced on that account. I was never going to produce any groundbreaking work – I could only interpret the world, there was little I could do to change it!

So I took the second momentous decision I’ve ever taken. The first was to emigrate to Australia, the second was to return. That will be Part II of this memoir.