In London, autumn is creeping in, making the days feel shorter. It’s funny—back home, you wouldn’t think of the seasons as anything too dramatic. But here, it feels like they make a bigger entrance. The leaves have turned this fiery mix of burnt orange and amber, and now they carpet the streets like some kind of prelude to the inevitable frost. I swear, by 4pm (yes, 4pm), the sky’s already dipped behind a blanket of clouds, casting that soft, fleeting glow that makes you almost forget about the icy chill creeping in. Every evening, as the air cools, I find myself rummaging for gloves I forgot I even owned, and it hits me: winter’s coming. Fast.
Back home, the shifts in weather are slower, like nature’s little nudge instead of a push. There’s still that lingering warmth long into autumn. It's not so much about drastic change, more about that peaceful transition. But here, it's dramatic. Autumn is bold—its colours shout as loudly as winter’s cold bite.
This morning, as I walked through the streets, feeling the city’s chill in my bones, I couldn’t help but feel that familiar pang of homesickness. It’s not overwhelming, but it's there, like an itch that doesn’t go away, as I’ve written about before. I thought about the things I miss from home, the things that are so ingrained in me that I didn’t even realise how much I’d long for them until I was halfway around the world. So, I thought I’d take a moment to share a few things that keep calling me back to Australia.
The Wide Open, Endless Blue Skies
You know, if I had a pound for every time someone in London has asked, “Why would you leave Australia for here?” I’d have enough to cover my rent for a month (maybe). I get it, I do. It’s hard to put into words, but in Australia, the sun doesn’t just shine—it embraces you. In my hometown of Margaret River, the skies are endless. They’re so blue it almost feels like you could fall into them. And I miss that. I miss the fact that you can just step outside and feel warmth on your skin, even in winter. Back home, when the cold sets in, you’re just as likely to be curled up by a wood fire, glass of wine in hand, feeling cosy as anything. And in summer, a quick dip in the crystal-clear waters of Prevelly, a shady spot in the Boranup Forest… It’s the simple stuff that hits hardest when you’re far away. The kind of natural beauty that feels easy to take for granted until you’re looking at rainy skies all the time.
Missing the Perfect Coffee
Okay, I might sound dramatic here, but I haven’t had a great cup of coffee since I left Australia. It’s just not the same here. I’m not saying London doesn’t have good coffee spots—of course it does—but there’s a special kind of magic in the coffee back home. It’s the fresh, creamy dairy. The independent cafes where the barista really knows their craft. London’s coffee culture is a little more fast-paced, a little more corporate for my liking. Back home, it’s more personal. I remember walking into my local cafe, and the barista would greet me by name with a smile, already knowing my order. Here, I’ve been searching for that same warmth in my morning cup, but I still haven’t found it.
A Different Kind of Night Walk
I didn’t think I’d miss walking alone at night as much as I do. London’s streets at night always make me feel a little on edge. There’s a hustle and bustle that makes everything feel chaotic, even when you’re just trying to get from one place to the next. The city’s big, unpredictable, and filled with so many people all on their own journeys. Back home, there’s this quiet serenity at night, even in the city. The streets feel safer, even when the sun goes down. I miss that feeling of walking around knowing that no matter the time, the world’s still calm. Here, it’s a bit more uncertain. I find myself a little more guarded, especially as a woman walking alone at night, and I never expected that to be something I’d miss so much.
Smiling at Strangers
This one’s a funny one, but I’m a smiley person by nature. Back in Australia, whether I’m walking along the street, at the beach, or grabbing a coffee, it just feels natural to smile at people. Here in London, though, it’s not quite the same. I quickly learned that smiling at strangers can be seen as a bit strange itself. People don’t usually make eye contact on the Tube, and if you do manage to smile, it’s often met with a blank stare. There’s something about the pace here—it’s faster, a bit more closed-off. Back home, I felt that warmth in the air, the open, laid-back vibe that makes smiling at a stranger feel normal. Here, I’ve had to hold back a little, especially since sometimes it draws the wrong kind of attention. But I get it now. London’s got its own rhythm, and there’s an unspoken understanding that we’re all just passing through, navigating our own lives in a very full, very busy city.
The Aussie Accent
I’ll admit it: I miss hearing the Aussie accent. It’s funny how much comfort it brings me, how much I crave it at random moments. Sometimes, I’ll even go out of my way to visit a cafe in Clapham, just hoping to overhear a few words in my accent. It’s strange how something as simple as hearing the way people talk back home can give you a sense of belonging when you're so far from it.
The Outdoor Lifestyle
The other day, I found myself scrolling through old photos from last year, and I couldn’t help but reminisce about my time in Horrocks, that quiet beach town. Those days come with a mix of bittersweet memories—the aftereffects of a breakup and the confusion of figuring out what I wanted in life—but the outdoor lifestyle was something else. There’s just nothing like a sunset over the ocean, or riding a quad bike across sand dunes to watch the sky shift from gold to purple. Those moments felt so peaceful, so real.
My sister sends me photos of her regular sunset picnics. Jake is flipping sausages on the BBQ and Sarah is playing with their greyhound, Joey in the sand, their camp chairs set up beside them with a couple of cold drinks. It’s such a different vibe from London. That easy lifestyle where everything slows down, where it’s about being in the moment, enjoying the company of the people you love. And it makes me look forward to those long summer days and camping trips when I get home. There’s something about the Australian outdoors that feels grounded, full of life, and at the same time, completely relaxing. It’s a simplicity that I’m learning to crave more than I ever expected.
As autumn sets in here in London, I find myself yearning for the simple joys of home—the wide-open skies, the perfect cup of coffee, and the peace of those quiet walks at night. The things I took for granted now feel like treasures, and as winter approaches, I’m learning to appreciate the beauty of those moments I once overlooked. It’s not just about the landscape or the weather; it’s about a way of life that feels grounded, easy, and warm. And while London’s energy is undeniable, it’s the little pieces of home I miss the most.
A x
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