
September has long been one of my favourite months.
When we lived in the northern hemisphere it was the most beautiful threshold between summer and autumn, full of soft light and turning leaves. Now in the south, it marks the beginning of spring. The windy season, for sure, but also the start of longer, lighter days, and those occasional moments when the sun is warm enough to bare our pale arms to the air again.
It also seems to be a month of big events, running on a six-year cycle. In September 2001, I started at Edinburgh University. In September 2007, DorkyDad and I got married. In September 2013, we moved to Tasmania. In September 2019… well nothing major happened, but perhaps that was the universe giving me a break knowing what was to come the following year.
Anyway, that history means that September is always full of anniversaries and ‘remember when…’ conversations.
I am a nostalgic little creature. Always looking for patterns and coincidences. When I realised that the date we were due to fly out of Tasmania for our recent UK visit was ten years to the day since we had flown out of Heathrow to move here, I was delighted. Not only that, but the weekend we were due to spend in Edinburgh marked 22 years exactly since I first arrived at Pollock Halls as a Fresher.
All in all, it felt like the signs boded well for a good trip back to Scotland.



