It's been a year since I decided to quit my job...

ONE YEAR.

One year since The Boy came to pick me up after the shittiest Monday on record.

The rain was showing no mercy.

It was dark at 5pm.

There was a huge traffic jam.

It had been ONE OF THOSE MONDAYS.

I'd had enough. ENOUGH! Life wasn't about this, there was so much more I wanted! I wanted adventures!

The Boy had an announcement for me and he didn't want to make it while sitting in a cold car in a traffic jam. I had a feeling I was either about to get divorced or in for some other serious news.

So off to the pub we went and himself announced that he was thinking of seeing more of the world at some point in the future - not right now (lest his employers happen to read this!) but in the future. This is progress.

I wanted to go back to Kenya since my quickfire trip last July for one week. I wanted to live in one place, learn Swahili and spend my days writing and making sure I really did enjoy writing and social media. So a plan was made and the very next day I handed my notice in at work.

That was one year ago.

Since then I spent the most challenging but happiest three months living in Mombasa, in my own little apartment. The Boy joined me for one month and we had a whale of a time living at our own pace, doing what we wanted.

Since coming home I've found full time employment (it started off as a contract and progressed to full time) which is a new challenge in itself. It's hard work and I miss Kenya so much that I ache some days, but I have no regrets in general. How could I regret this amazing year???