28. London Still - The Waifs

I’ve always wanted to live in London.

My plan was finish the pantomime that was high school, get through uni somewhere not in Melbourne, then move to London and try to avoid the ‘irritating Australian in London’ cliche.

It never happened though.

And I’m alright with that.

Now.

But for the longest time, it was on right on the top of my ‘Regrets’ list.

Which is a little foolish - I’ve been fortunate enough to have traveled to that enticing city twice in my life.

So to complain about not living there is quite a churlish reaction in the face of life’s fortunes.

Yet coming out of high school, this was one of my main aspirations. Fueled, at least partially, by constantly listening to London Still by The Waifs.

It’s a pleasant song, with carefree guitar strumming and stretching, drums that are kind of urgent (like you’re running late for a train you don’t really want to catch) and exuberantly Australian vocals.

It feels like an honest communique from someone tired of life as an ex-pat, but deeply familiar with a city I longed to be in.

It spoke to the idea of missing family - but only really after the novelty of the English dream had worn off.

It was one of those tracks I’ve hung dreams and aspirations on.

To no avail though.

Now, there was no great schism or tragedy that kept me in Melbourne. After working through uni, we decided to book a big trip around the world before talking about moving anywhere.

The trip was fantastic, if a bit of a whirlwind, and we spent some time in London. And I was set - my mind was made up.

Until we got home and started talking the logistics of such a shift.

Family.

Friends.

Finances.

So, over time and not very consciously, it got sidelined. Not with any animus or regret, just parked.

The employment tango began then, from a boutique firm in South Yarra to one of the big banks.

The whole time intending to come back to the idea of moving away, but it never got prioritised - which I think speaks to its importance in the scheme of things really.

From the bank, to the stockbrokers then on to the folly of self-employment, when simple travel became a fantasy, let alone moving anywhere.

By this stage I’d stopped thinking about, and I’d stopped listening to, this song.

I only had it on CD single anyway, and for a person as lazy as me, having to get up to change discs is enough of a reason to prefer full albums.

But in the meantime, we’d started building our life.

We moved out, we bought, borrowed, purloined and mended furniture, crockery and bric-a-brac.

Building a life. A happy, full, rounded life.

We got married, traveled some more.

I was fortunate enough to visit London again, this time for a friends wedding.

I stayed with another friend in Fulham - my old housemate, who’s rent was very different in London than it was back at our old horror show.

Had a memorable lunch at St. John’s with a large group of friends, walked those narrow streets until my feet wept and enjoyed the incredible ambiance of English pubs.

We made changes to the business, merged with another practice.

We started our family, adding to our life.

We changed things, mixed them up, updated, backdated and re-dated the furniture, the decorations, the photo’s and the bric-a-brac.

To the point where we are now, with a life that is - humblebrag warning - a happy, full, rounded life.

Perhaps one of the reasons I’m less angry now is that I, simply, have less to be angry about.

Which means I don’t think about London much anymore.

I mean, when it comes up part of me hears the echo of that longing to be there, amongst the history, stories and life.

(And the strawberries. Greatest strawberries I’ve ever had)

But it’s a fleeting attack of wondering.

We made our choice when confronted with that junction - left to London, right to Melbourne.

We went right, and I’d do it again every time.

Which is why when London Still came on a few months ago, it sat me back in my seat. I listened to the whole thing.

It’s a different song for me now. It’s not a hopeful map towards happiness in London.

It’s more forlorn than that, it’s a tale of homesickness and loneliness. It’s a lamentation, that they’re in ‘London Still’, not a celebration.

I do regret one thing, though, in not going to London and it’s that it’s left our life quite short on ‘adventure’.

Leaving aside the adventure that is inherent in any life lived in today’s world, ours has not been one driven by adventure or the excitement of the unknown.

And that’s something I’d like to change one day.

As a coincidence, London Still’s reappearance in my musical rotation came at the same time as we were discussing what our next adventure might be.

All going well, my work will offer us the kind of flexibility to make it completely location agnostic and we want our son to see more of the world - and we do too.

There are pros and cons, upsides and downsides to consider of course.

But that idea of adventure, or something new, is terribly enticing.

Will it happen? Who knows.

But it’s a mutually exclusive choice, isn’t it. So making that decision means accepting certain things.

Distance. Isolation. Unhappiness.

And the same considerations are there, though some are even more powerful now.

Family. Friends. Finances.

It’s a big decision that we’ll make at some stage.

Because if there’s one thing I’ve learnt from not achieving my big aspiration of moving to London it’s that the alternative to getting what you want isn’t always a bad outcome.

It can just be different.

And that’s ok.