After months of moving around, I'm back in the UK again. Reading this week for meetings, flat viewings, and all the logistics that come with starting over.
It's strange how familiar this feels. A bit like the first time I moved here 11 years ago - juggling uncertainty with excitement, somehow trusting that it'll all work itself out. Same energy, different person.
This time, though, it feels different. More grounded. More intentional. And I'm actually looking forward to it.
What Four Months of Airports Taught Me
Four months, five airports, and countless makeshift desks later, I've got a degree in what remote work actually teaches you: adaptability, sure. Independence, definitely. But mostly? The real value of a proper routine.
You learn a lot about what matters when every week looks different and every workspace is temporary. You figure out which parts of your work need focus and which parts are just noise you've been tolerating. You discover what energises you and what drains you when there's no external structure forcing you to show up.
Travel brings perspective. It strips away the bullshit and shows you what you actually care about versus what you think you're supposed to care about.
But here's the thing no one mentions in the Instagram posts: at some point, motion stops being progress. At some point, "flexibility" just becomes another word for "unfocused." At some point, you realise the real adventure isn't having unlimited options - it's choosing the right constraints.
Why Routine Suddenly Sounds Exciting
Being back in the UK, has been a proper reminder that focus comes from rhythm. That momentum needs roots.
You can't build anything lasting while living out of a suitcase. Not really. You can maintain things, react to things, keep plates spinning. But building something that actually matters? That requires showing up to the same place, with the same people, working on the same problems until they're properly solved.
And honestly? I've missed it. The energy of working with people in the same room. The quick conversations that solve problems in thirty seconds instead of scheduling a meeting three days later. The satisfaction of seeing something develop over weeks and months instead of just managing whatever's urgent today.
Each trip back to the UK over the past few weeks has felt less like a visit and more like coming home to the life I actually want. The flat viewings aren't just admin - they're about establishing a proper base. Somewhere that's mine. Somewhere I can actually settle into and build from.
The meetings have been brilliant too. Real conversations with people doing work that matters, building things that take time to get right. The kind of work where you leave thinking "yeah, I want to be part of that."
Here's What's Next
The plan from here is beautifully simple: get settled, start work, and build something worth building.
The aim isn't movement anymore - it's momentum. Not keeping options open for the sake of it, but committing to something good and seeing it through.
November brings a proper base, a role I'm genuinely excited about, and the kind of normal routine that suddenly feels like a luxury rather than a limitation. A flat that's actually mine. Colleagues I'll see in person. Projects that matter and take time to do properly.
There's something quietly rebellious about choosing this right now. When everyone's optimising for flexibility and keeping their options open, there's something bold about saying "actually, I'm going to commit. I'm going to build something that takes years, not quarters. I'm going to choose depth over breadth."
It feels a bit like starting over. Except this time, I know exactly what I'm building towards. I've tested the alternatives. I've had the perspective. I've made the choice.
This time, it's steady. And I'm super excited about it.
Here we go.