Last night, for the first time since I arrived on these British Isles, I had my first serious bout of homesickness. Not for New Zealand, but for my friends and family back home. Sure, I miss them all the time. But last night I had a serious ache to see them and hug them.

I text my sisters to tell them I missed them, and picked up the phone to ring my best friend also from NZ and now living in Nottingham. I’ve known her since I was 14, and she knows me through and through. As soon as I heard her voice I burst into tears. After my sobbing subsided I felt 150% better. I think I just needed that release and someone to hear me. She cheered me up no end, especially after I asked her what she was doing and she admitted she was watching Blade Runner. On a Tuesday night. The most random film choice ever. She had me in fits of laughter. Even when I asked her what had made her pick it – she had no clue. Then as our conversation continued I leant too far to the edge of my shoddy-flat-provided-slat bed and the whole thing collapsed. More laughter, as I sat in a hole of bedding on the floor.

I’ve always prided myself on not missing NZ and calling Britain home. But as it’s coming up to my two year anniversary here I think being so far away has hit me more than I thought it would. I still love living in London and will not rush back to NZ any time soon – especially with more friends coming this way and my mum coming for a month-long jaunt in June. But it will be so nice to hug her, and spend time with her and get a taste of home. Of course, by taste of home I mean the several bags of pineapple lumps and Whittaker’schocolate I have requested she bring with her.