It seems to me that systematically throughout my life, I have not only ignored subtle (and not so subtle) advice on how I should live my life, more often than not, I appear to have rebelled against it. For instance, as a young teen, I was told to get my head down and study hard and yet I spent most of my high school days dodging classes and smoking weed. Nothing too unusual there.

By the skin of my teeth I got into university, but I had an older boyfriend at the time who thought students were just work dodgers. He drove a BMW, so I took his words as gospel and promptly got myself a job in a call centre. Unsurprisingly, he turned out to not be the celestial being I thought him to be.

I spent the next five years in and out of various mundane and uninspiring jobs, much to my mother’s worry: nightclubs, pubs, travel agents, call centres, big bank customer service. I had mantra at that time, I planned to “work to live” not “live to work”. This mainly consisted of dragging my hungover carcass through the week to emerge as a social butterfly on Friday, promptly spending everything I earnt and waking up Monday to begin the whole sorry cycle again. Living?? I’m not so sure.

Thankfully, due to some pretty significant life events, I eventually got my shit sorted and trained to be a nurse, graduating at the grand old age of 26. Had I finally started to grow up?

Possibly not.

Hurtling towards 30, my life was going pretty great. I had a job in the NHS (not so great in retrospect but at the time it was a big achievement) and an amazing flat in Manchester. I’d even managed to buy my own car.

The only part that was terrible was my love life. I have always been totally socially inept when it comes to relationships and my pass record had not filled me with enthusiasm for any further amorous encounters. I was happy on my own, at least that’s what I told myself.  So as friends started getting married and having children, I ran. I ran from the constant “when are you going to get a boyfriend Anna?” I ran from the blind dates and I ran from the set ups with cousins and work mates and boyfriends with single best mates. I ran as far as I could and I ended up here, in Australia.

Over the past 8 years, I have been living the life of a gap year student. I don’t have a permanent job, or a home. The only thing I own is my car, Bertha. I often think that maybe I love Bertha more than people. We have been around Australia twice, more than 180 thousand kilometres, and we spend more time together than I do with my own family. I talk to her and I miss her when we’re apart, longing for the feel of the open road, for solitude and for adventure. She is trusty, reliable and she never complains. If I could find a man like that I would probably not be writing this blog.

I’m almost 38 and the sad thing is, is that people ask me less and less if I’m going to have children. Not that I am complaining but you have to admit, it is a little sad. The answer is, I would love to have children, but not after I’m 40. Judging by my almost celibate lifestyle over the last 15 years, this would take a miracle. I’m an optimist though and strongly believe that just because I may not have my own children does not mean that I will never have a family.

It sounds like I’m a poor achiever and I’m putting myself down, but I totally disagree. The last eight years have been incredible and I feel that I constantly push myself to be bigger and better than before. What I haven’t achieved in material wealth, I have certainly made up for in life experience

So, finally, to the point of this blog. The most recent mantra I now seem to be receiving from friends and family in thier constant quest to try and “normalise” my life is: When are you going to buy a house/get a mortgage? I’ve mulled it over, I’ve thought about it, I’ve talked about, worried about it and absolutely, at some time in my life, I may get a mortgage. But for now? The answer is no. I am going to keep on running and here is why:

Number one, my fear of commitment. 25 years! Are you kidding me? In my 8 years in Australia I have not even been able to commit to a 12 month mobile phone plan.

Number two, my indecisiveness. Would I buy a house in Australia or England? What state? Would I choose a house or a flat? In the city? Or in the country? Would I want to live there? Or rent it? I keep coming back to the fact that if it had wheels, I’m in.

Number three, who on earth is going to give me a mortgage? I work about six months of the year and only then when my money runs out. I’ve had more than 30 jobs in the last eight years, I can’t spend more than three months in one place and my bank balance looks like a rollercoaster on speed. I’m pretty confident my credit rating is less than crap.

Number six, I’m not ready to sacrifice my lifestyle. I love it. I often feel like the luckiest girl in the world. My mum got diagnosed with Cancer when she was only four years older than I am now. You don’t want to, but you think about these things. I plan to live and see and do as much as I possibly can as you never know when you might be forced to give it all up.

Number seven, why would I want to go back to an empty house when I have so many people to see and things to do?

I’m sure there are many, many more reasons but I think number 7 is the one that holds me back the most. Over the years, I have made some amazing friends that feel much like family. When you’re away from home, away from familiarity and those who make you feel safe, you seek these things out in the people you are with. You are all in the same situation and faced without the luxury of time, you develop strong and meaningful relationships much faster and much deeper than you ordinarily would. My friends live far and wide across Australia and I don’t spend as much time with any of them as I would like. These friends live in beautiful places and I am always made to feel welcome. I live quite a solitary life so the company of great friends and kindred spirits is essential for my happiness. I think these places feel more like home than any place I had by myself and I don’t want to give them up.

But then there is home. I mean home, home. Hebden Bridge, England home. I miss my family more and more with each passing year and I would move back in a heartbeat if I could do the job I love and live the life I live. If I was to ever buy a house, I think it would have to be here. I can think of no other place I could call my home. Unfortunately, I remember my life as a nurse in the NHS as angst ridden and dark. I have no desire to go back and be the person I was. I would have to be something else, someone else. But what? Who?

So, the answer is no, not now, maybe never am I going to buy a house. Maybe I’ll never settle, maybe I’ll never sit still. You never know what life is going to throw at you and I will do whatever I need to do when the time comes. I have taken on board concerns and yes, maybe I will work a little more, save a little more and possibly travel a little less. I’ve been up and down and round the houses but the conclusion is, is that I’m happy and I have no desire to change my life right now. Maybe this is selfish, maybe this immature of me, maybe I am being irresponsible but, do you know what? It is not the first time and I strongly believe that everything is always going to be OK.