We drove up to Newcastle for several days so that I would have a chance to see my extended family before we escaped overseas again. It was lovely to see Nana, still sprightly and vivacious and so happy to have everyone home for the holidays. I was saddened by Pop’s absence – his memory is still very much alive in our thoughts and stories, and his mischievous smile still peeked out from the photos on the mantelpiece, but he was no longer at his proper place at the head of the table.

We exchanged gifts, and food was also major theme for the day. We started the day with egg and salmon filled croissants, made mini pizzas for lunch, and capped it off with roast turkey and tofurkey. Adrian and I decorated gingerbread people in festive and delicious costumes, but I am afraid to say, they didn’t even make it 24 hours before being devoured.

Adrian and I were so pleased with our decorative abilities that we proceeded to decorated my cousin’s hair in a manner fitting the occasion, which promptly fell out after several energetic games of Tag.

My Nana mentioned to Adrian that she had always dreamt of having dinner out on the lawn in the backyard, underneath the trees. I sympathised with her that such an impossible dream would never be realised, as we had always had dinner on the verandah. Adrian, however, told her that if her dream was that easy, he would make it happen. He simply rummaged through the garage for a spare table, picked it up, washed it off, and brought everything down to the lawn. In no time at all, a festive table was decked out under the afternoon sky, and we all sat around it, listening to the clinks of wine glasses and laughs of kookaburras as the day wound to a close.

My first day of my PhD was February, 2004. I had a long hard road ahead of me. I spent many days and long nights attempting FACS, PCR, bleeding, hybridising, giving seminars, going to lab meetings, and writing many many words about science. In January, 2007 I submitted my thesis, and left for Seattle. My thesis was then sent out to review by two anonymous reviewers. Four months later, I got their comments and responded to the issues that they had raised, and sent this back to Australia for final approval. It wasn’t until November, 2007 that I got the letter confirming that I had been awarded the degree of Doctor of Philosophy. I deferred graduation for one year, and then in December 2008, I was able to walk across stage and officially claim my diploma.

It was the first time for a while that I heard the national anthem, Advance Australia Fair. What a strange song. These days, our soil seems more brown than golden. As the university is only sixty-two years old, it has to import a lot of its pomp and ceremony from Oxford. The robes we wear, even in the heat of summer, are thick black wool, as worn hundreds of years ago in England.The silver mace, carried during the academic procession, is a twentieth-century replica of the eighteenth-century Oxford mace. The conferring process for PhD graduates is very neat, but I was nervous that I would stuff it up in front of everyone. When my name was called, I walked across the stage and kneeled in front of the Chancellor. I removed my black velvet bonnet, and inclined my head and he placed a blue silk hood over my shoulders. I replaced my bonnet, and stood up. He handed me my testamur, shook my hand, and I walked down the stairs, degree in hand.

Afterwards Fleur and I celebrated with champagne, our many years as molecular biology graduate students officially coming to an end. Adrian and I then had lunch with my parents, where they presented me with a beautiful watch to mark the occasion of my graduation. Now, when we find a home in Belgium, I can now hang a diploma on my wall that proudly proclaims that I have earned a Doctor of Philosophy from the Australian National University.

At first, Canberra felt very strange. Very Australian – a word that I would never have previously used to describe it – and so dry and sprawling. And yet, only a few days later, it feels like I have never left. Apart from accidentally hopping on the wrong bus or forgetting where the nearest ATM is, I almost feel as if Seattle never really happened. But while Canberra may have stayed stationary, all my friends have whizzed ahead. How dare they graduate, have babies, get married, buy houses, get promotions, buy pets, etc, while I have been overseas to miss out on these milestones. Everyone is so grown up now. Including me, I guess, now married with two years post-doctoral experience, and soon off to Belgium to live.

I am really enjoying my time in Canberra with Adrian by my side. Spending most of my day studying at the ANU, peppered with coffee and lunch with old friends and hearing about their many adventures. Every day warm, sunny, and full of blue sky and a gentle breeze. It is relaxing and satisfying.

This weekend we were lucky enough to be able to visit the farm of Amy, Jason, and Elka. Amy was my lab neighbour over many long years of honours and PhD, and we shared in many adversities during our time in Canberra. Now she has found her own little spot of paradise – a small close enough to commute into the city for work, but big enough for horses, cats, chickens, ducks, and recently, a beautiful baby girl called Elka.

Amy has always worked so hard, so it is no wonder that she makes running her menagerie seem effortless. Her five-month-old baby is a delight, sticking to a schedule of naps and sleeping through the night. Her horses did their best to throw her off her game by throwing a shoe as soon as the farrier had left to fix the last one, but she managed the whole thing with grace and humour.

They even found time to take us to Mount Tamborine to see the waterfalls and the shops, and on the way there we saw hang-gliders and para-gliders dive off a grassy cliff, and almost impossibly sail into the air, gradually circling up above us.