The end of my housesitting era

30 months. 5 countries. 34 housesits. 56 pets.

30 months. 5 countries. 34 housesits. 56 pets.

As I write this, my suitcase is half-packed and Hamish, the German Shepherd in my care, is pouting in another room, sensing looming change.

In a few days, my boyfriend is boarding a flight from Australia to join me in Glasgow, Scotland, where I’ve accepted a job offer. We’ve been together for three years, but this is the first time we’re planting roots in one place.

For anyone new here, buckle up – let me take you back a few years….

I started my career at the bottom rung of the ladder in one of Britain’s biggest fashion houses. Perpetually skint, I didn’t have two pennies to rub together for years. I worked long hours. Endured mammoth commutes. I had the resting heart rate of a hummingbird at all times.

I spent the rest of my twenties digging my way out of debt, until finally, I was earning enough money to live on my own in a beautiful flat overlooking Clapham Common – and not having to always choose the cheapest bottle of wine on the menu.

I should have been happy. I’d followed the path and steps to success.

But life had chosen me. I had not chosen it.

That is, until 2023.

Flowers by Miley Cyrus was the song of the summer; London was in the grip of a forty-degree heatwave, and I met a man on the sticky dance floor of a Soho salsa club who changed my destiny.

A big health scare, meeting Bren, and starting a new job at a company that sucked the living soul out of me were the three consecutive wake-up calls that slapped me around the chops, leading me to quit my life and book a one-way ticket to Australia to experience some adventure for the first time in my adult life.

Housesits took us from Melbourne to Sydney and Jindabyne, nestled in Australia’s snowy mountains (yes, they have snowy mountains), where I spent the best part of six months breaking old patterns and re-learning how to not fly through my days with the tenacity of a thoroughbred.

Next was the UK, where we traversed the length of three countries, from the Cotswolds in England to Pembrokeshire in Wales and Edinburgh in Scotland. I began giving my writing career a serious chance, landing bylines in magazines, starting this Substack, and writing 85,000 words of my first book.

And perhaps my favourite one of all – Ireland, where we lived in an artists’ village along the Wild Atlantic Way, in a derelict mansion in Leitrim, near the border, and in the Cork countryside. Here, nature restored my love of life, healed my burnout and taught me the importance of rest. All while drinking my bodyweight in Guinness.

Each housesit has been a building block to healing nearly a decade of burnout. Removing myself from the distractions of modern day life gave me a chance to really listen to my inner compass and ask, ‘What do you want from your life?’

I’ve rekindled my childlike curiosity, learned not to take myself too seriously (and as someone who liked dining at fancy restaurants, collecting designer handbags and knocking back champagne at fancy Mayfair events), I have become so flexible. If you’d have told me I’d exist happily with only a small suitcase of clothes and a yoga mat, I’d have spat my Clicquot in your face with laughter.

This has also been the first time in my life I’ve ever travelled (other than the odd city break or two-week holiday in Spain). I never understood why people took gap years or travelled for long periods at a time. Now I do. It opens up your world – internally and externally. It’s addictive. Why wouldn’t you want to leave Skegness for an ashram in Bali and never come back?

In tandem with the life-reaffirming epiphanies, housesitting has sometimes felt like my own version of the tale of Sisyphus, going on far longer than I had planned. What was first the key to my freedom, at times became a giant boulder that I had to push up a hill, all while bathing dogs that rolled in fox shit or running away from cats that wanted to claw the tendons out of my calves.

My boyfriend has been overcoming visa restrictions, finances have peaked and troughed, and the overall instability of only knowing what’s coming a month or so in advance has been difficult for a Hobbit like me who loves nesting.

Living out of strangers’ homes has at times felt like having my identity stripped away, but all of this I can look forward to again. Decorating an apartment, hosting dinners for friends, and building a whole new community in a new city!

The next chapter is another big change. I’m starting a full-time job in Glasgow. We’ll be renting again. Back to a ‘normal’ life. All of these things I’m ready for and excited about. But the biggest question on my mind is: how can I do that while carrying forward all the gifts I’ve gained from almost three years of nomadic living?

And that’s exactly how this newsletter will be evolving.

Because your girl was never going to travel forever… Now is my chance to merge those two worlds: a life of stability and roots alongside a creative and romantic life grounded in balance and joy.

Call me crazy, but I reckon we can have both. All things at once! Let them rush forth! Life, I am ready for you, as I have been every time I’ve stood at the helm of my ship, hanging on for dear life as rogue waves have threatened to topple me over.

I’ve experienced the adventure of a lifetime. An adventure that’s given me myself back. It’s also given me a memoir, which I’m about to pitch to agents. WTF!

In the beginning, I had no idea what the outcome of my journey would be. But I opened my arms and dove off the cliff – and guess what? The sea was there to catch me.

My advice to anyone craving an adventure or break like this? Trust in the journey. Set your alarm. Take the plunge. The universe will show you everything it’s got.

How this newsletter will evolve

No more housesit diaries (obviously) – instead, free subscribers will receive The Dispatch (a column detailing the trials of building a new life in Scotland) three times a month. Paid subscribers get access to monthly deep-dive essays and practical tips and takeaways. You can upgrade for just 90p a week – less than a bag of Mini Cheddars.

It’s important to me that you’re getting the most out of what you love about this newsletter, so please leave a comment or fill out this 2-minute anonymous survey to help shape what comes next! ❤️

I can’t wait to take you on this next adventure with me. I’m off to view some flats… wish me luck.

Until next week!