I surge out the door in what's becoming a landing-day tradition. The late-morning sun smashes into my newly-shaved head as I accelerate to race pace along the esplanade. I can't keep this up for long, but I want to run forever. I always do. This is fantastic.
Adelaide is not all roses. There are no lights on at the only pub when we roll into Brighton at 10pm on a Thursday night. I've lived in London flats older than the signposted 'historic ruins'. And it's back to the gas-guzzling lazycage to get around, since bikes don't work here and the buses come through about as often as it rains.
I'm constantly making these comparisons. I tell myself that this is a reconnaissance trip, preparing for a long-term decision. But I am increasingly unconvinced that such a choice is necessary or even possible. The environment is sufficiently turbulent to make long-term planning difficult, and very nearly all decisions can be reversed. Homes can be given up, marriages dissolved, businesses sold - I've done all of those things already.
I think that trying to get it 'right' can lead only to paralysing inaction, especially since, in the absence of more data, more analysis achieves nothing. The target continues to move.
There isn't "right". There is only "right for now".