It was 30 degrees, the plane sat waiting for me on the tarmac and although the voice of the loudpeaker kept repeating my name over, and over, and over again I still had a further ten people to say goodbye to. Yes, my farewell party was ridiculously huge - (never let the whole family come to the airport - it'll only make the whole 'goodbye' process longer). I cried for 13 of the 26 hours I was on that plane - and slept for the remainder of the time. When i wasn't bawling, the woman next to me was - so between us we could have watered the Sahara Desert.

I hit Stuttgart, Germany which I would call home for the next seven months. A uni student on the verge of graduating - barely proficient in German but a fine actress when it came to feigning understanding (and interest) in the German turorials. I learnt little about Journalism and Communications but a hell of a lot about sauerkraut, oompah bands, steins of wheat beer, communicating through hand movements and dancing atop tables with German Grandpas - (go to the Canstatter Beerfest - you'll never forget it!). I explored the amazing landscapes of South Germany, got fit, ate very little in an attempt to save money and lost a lot of weight. I promptly stacked it back on again over the Christmas holidays. Four days with a German family and their non-stop feasting were to blame. Who could say no?

I explored France and Italy, made some amazingly good friends, fell out of love with my Australian boyfriend, despite him coming over to join me. I was happier than I've ever been in my life. Then I moved to London...

And here I am now, a little Aussie with a dream of presenting radio and getting paid a ridiculous amount of money for doing so. Or, presenting radio and getting a pittance - but with passionate listeners to boot. I've worked like a trooper since I arrived - day in day out. When my mother queried how long I was going to be abroad, I replied "about eight months". Eight months later she dared to ask again... to be be met with "when I've worked for the BBC". well, i've been there, done that and am still going strong. I've played the field, partied with Swedes, travelled some more, won a trip to pre-flooded New Orleans, met a Englishmand, fallen in love, lived with some flatties in a typical English house, debated the idea of moving in with the aforementioned Englishman and decided to take the plunge.

A trip home awaits and I have a feeling that the adventure is only just beginning.