Misfortune Accompanies Fortune

MY PASSPORT CAME.

My first adult passport. I had applied for it a few months before, but the bastards denied me it on some basis that my photo was wrong. But it finally came.

I was one month in to the final year of my Higher National Diploma in Administration with Information Technology. And, being me, I had the travel bug. Granted, administration is one of the few things that I'm actually good at, but I didn't want to spend all of my freaking life pushing buttons in some godforsaken office with some unethical knobcheese of an employer blackmailing me to cut my har. Or, at the time, go and work at the Co-op with my parents. I had to have one last bangout before the first tidbits of reality kicked in like a speed-riddled battering ram.

So I got my passport. And that was the signal to do one of the greatest thing I've ever done so far.

Apply for an Australian Working Holiday Visa.

CLICK.

No turning back now...

A week later, the email came through...

"Dear Mr Harwood,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been granted a working holiday visa, subsection..."

An hour later, I had booked a flight from London to Sydney via Dubai. All I had to do was sit it out for the next eleven months, and then the adventure would begin.

I had no idea what I had let myself in for that day.

No idea at all.