THE other day, a rather crisp and rainy one, I found myself skipping down the street with an umbrella aloft, a pashmina around my neck. As I waited at the traffic lights, I suddenly realised something. I was skipping. And, more notably, despite a well known pathological hatred of the rain, I wasn’t actually bothered by it. In fact, I was, on some level, enjoying it. In fact, enjoying both it, and the novel sensation of being perfectly suited and booted in order to be at one with it; an umbrella, suitable shoes and a scarf. I almost felt, dare I say it, cinematic. I certainly felt tres European.

I also felt a little click. That little jolt when something inside you moves slightly or morphs a little, in order to fit to its surrounding. That feeling of adjustment …

The latest Australian Times column is up and it’s all about the seemingly endless process of adjustment that comes with moving cities, countries, or just moving  at all … read it HERE.