British expat in Australia: ‘I broke my mum’s heart by moving halfway across the world – but what happened next made it all worth it’

“Mum, I think I’m going to move to Australia!”

Wendy was flabbergasted when I said these words to her in 2019, disbelief etched on her face as she stared at me in the quiet calm of our English living room. 

Truth be told, I couldn’t believe it either. I’d never shown any interest in Australia, nor had any idea where on earth I was going or why. It was just a sudden craving for absolute chaos. 

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I’ll set the scene.

Wendy is a quintessential British mum: a cup of tea always in hand, an unspoken love for Princess Diana and always in a fleece because “you can’t trust this weather”.

So when I told her my great plans to move 17,000km away, I’d mentally braced for the “think of the Yorkshire puddings you’ll miss!” speech.

Instead, she smiled.

“As long as it makes you happy,” she said.

Wendy later admitted that she was absolutely shattered by my decision, but she never let on. 

“Do you have somewhere to stay?” she asked before I got on the plane. I told her I’d booked an eight-bedroom hostel in the city and would live there for a while, and her positive reaction to that bombshell was Oscar-worthy.

I think Wendy always thought I’d come back.

Even I didn’t expect that six years on I’d be a permanent resident and cat-owner with zero plans to return home.

My mum later told me over a glass of wine that after I left, she would cry every time she heard ABBA (our band, I don’t know why) or when she saw anything that reminded her of us. My sister had also upped and moved to Mexico, so neither of her two children could just nip round for a cuppa like she always wanted.

But in the years that followed – well, she says that made every sad time worth it. 

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Wendy, who is almost 70, previously considered a two-hour flight to Spain a daring expedition.

I never thought she’d do the unthinkable – travel 24 hours to see me in Australia. My dad, bless his heart, wasn’t up for the distance, but gave her the go-ahead probably just for some peace and quiet.

I still can’t believe it to this day. My five-foot-nothing mum, flying to the country she assumed was rampant with huntsman spiders? No chance. 

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But there she was, at Sydney Airport bragging about the free banana she’d received on her Emirates flight.

What proceeded after her arrival was the best seven weeks of my life.

Together we travelled to Uluru, Cairns, Melbourne. We rode camels, had dinner under the stars, spent the best New Year’s Eve with some of my dad’s family that we’d never met properly before.

It was the most incredible experience I’ve ever had, with my tiny mum right by my side.

It wasn’t like I was travelling with a parent. It was like being with a best mate. 

We laughed until all hours of the morning, reminisced on some of the ridiculous things I did behind her back as a teenager (which as it turns out, she secretly knew all about) and had the most unforgettable adventures in places we never even dreamed of. 

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Back in England, I lived two hours south of my home in a shabby apartment in London. 

Mum and Dad would come and visit for very short stints of time, or I’d dash back to Nottingham for some home-cooked meals on the odd weekend I had free. 

But now when I see my mum, it’s not just a visit – it’s an adventure.

She made her grand return Down Under 2024, and we decided to book a group tour in New Zealand.

It was with a hilarious gang of about 12. Myself and Wendy were like the two wild teenagers – always the last ones out, hungover on the bus in the morning and grinning from ear-to-ear about all the places we got to see together.

My mum says it’s the best trip she’s ever been on. 

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We followed it up with a cruise, and seeing my mum beg me to stay out as she was having too much fun at the silent disco is a memory I’ll treasure forever. 

For many families, living thousands of miles away can be difficult to come to terms with.

But the memories I’ve made with my mum since are the most valuable thing in the world.

These days we discuss what country we’re going to next, count down the days until she flies back here and I make photo books of her past Aussie adventures that she shows to all her pals.

These are things we’d never do back home, where life was always a bit too busy and full of a strict routine.

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Of course, she still worries. I worry about myself, too, still stunned by the fact I’m in my thirties and haven’t managed to work out how to make a roast dinner the way she does.

But now, she doesn’t tell people I’ve moved with any sadness.

“My daughter lives in Australia!” is a badge of honour. “I’m going to see her again this year!”

What began as a painful goodbye has turned into a new bond. We’re not just mum and daughter – we’re best mates, travel companions and partners in crime. 

We spend months saving up for our next adventure, knowing every penny will go towards a magical moment we’ll never forget. 

Although I wish I could hug her every day in person, we’ve chosen to look at the positives. 

Distance really does make the heart grow fonder.

And in our case, it turns out 17,000km is just a really scenic route to becoming best mates. 

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