Skip to main content

On buying tickets for Harry Potter and the Cursed Child and deciding to change my life forever

October 28 2015.

It was a date I had looked forward to for some time, ever since whispers of more Harry Potter had swirled around the internet and then exploded the brains of fans around the world when it was announced we’d get to hear more of the story. Nineteen years later.
The Palace Theatre, London
October 28 was the date priority tickets for Harry Potter and the Cursed Child went on sale.  The play was to open in June 2016 and though I hadn’t quite figured out how to get to London in time for whichever performance I was able to get tickets for, it seemed an insignificant detail to be worked out later.

At eleven pm that night, my sister and I were sorted into the ticket queue at random and crossed all fingers in the hope there would still be tickets available by the time we got to the head of the line. Before I was quite ready, though it was about an hour later, I was alerted that it was my turn next. I held my breath as I clicked on the option for three tickets and waited to be told that my request had been successful. And yes! Yes it was!

With shaky fingers, and a loudly beating heart, I tapped out my credit card details. I tried to take deep breaths at the same time, but multi-tasking was beyond me by this point. Once the confirmation email arrived, stating I had tickets secured for the performances on August 31 and September 2nd 2016, I jumped up from the couch and danced around my living room as if I’d won the lottery. In my opinion, these tickets were a much grander jackpot than any sum of money…mostly. As I collapsed with happy exhaustion on my couch, I began to wonder just how I’d get myself over to the UK in time for this once-in-a-lifetime event.

At this point, let’s detour slightly from the jubilation of young wizards and cast an eye at my life. I was happy. My career was ticking away as I’d always planned for it to, I was in love with the house I’d recently purchased in what I considered to be the best suburb in Melbourne (3054) and I was about to take another fun holiday with an equally fun friend.  If pressed, I could find things to complain about, but the bigger picture showed a contented life. Maybe a little too contented, but contented just the same.

All around me, however, change was seeping into the fabric of my world. My sister and her partner were looking to move overseas for a time, and my parents were running towards retirement. It seemed that within months, everyone in my family would have different lives. As I left for my holiday, I pushed away niggling thoughts that I would be the lone person to see out 2016 the same way I’d come into it. Surely that was okay? Surely I liked my life enough to live it in the same way for another year? Surely I’d make no giant life changes now that I was pretty settled and in my late twenties (read thirty-five)? Ha! Famous last thoughts.

My holiday, while being the perfect distraction, made me realise my life was too comfortable, too small. More often than not, my lower back would be sore most nights from sitting down too much during the day. Whether from my job in an office, stationed behind a desk all day, or at home in front of the television (I will never forgive you for existing, Netflix). As I made my way home from the airport, I knew something had to change.

And then I remembered Harry.

The play was five months away. London, a city I love, was calling out like a beacon. I had lived there many years ago and had always wondered if I’d come home too early. What if this was my chance to return? To have another go at living in the UK now that I was older and wiser? Could I somehow align every aspect of my life – quit my job, rent out my house, have enough savings to sort out a job only after I’d arrived rather than having to look beforehand – and make a giant life change?

The answer? Yes.

Stay tuned to find out just how I did it.


Popular posts from this blog

On accidentally becoming a cat person

Building a new life in a new city can throw challenges at you both big and small. Most challenges are to be expected; learning a new public transport system, setting up a bank account, finding the local pub, getting a job, making friends. Some are not; Brexit, realising your old winter clothes are a laughing stock when compared to ACTUAL winter clothes, Brexit, knowing your phone calls home will always mean one side of the conversation is just waking up while the other is on its way to being drunk and never the two wavelengths shall meet, Brexit. What I hadn’t planned on were challenges that would fundamentally change who I was. And in that respect, there is one challenge needs addressing, and has needed addressing for some time. For the eagle-eyed amongst you, you will have noticed a certain someone who has crept into my Twitter feed and onto my ‘ currently reading ’ page. And for those of you who have spotted this certain someone, and also know me well, will surely be wonder

On learning a new skill

So how many new skills have you mastered during this Covid-19? Are you fluent in Latin? French? Turkish? Is your personal brand lighting up Twitter/Instagram/Facebook as you sell the wellness candles you cooked up in the kitchen after you created an online festival but before finishing a new dress made from scraps around the house you can wear when you next meet a friend for ‘exercise’ with a keep cup full of ‘coffee’? Spoiler, it has wine inside. Thought so. But guess what. It seems that if you haven’t managed to generally improve yourself, and a substantial number of people online, during this dire time of unprecedented crappness, then apparently you’re doing it wrong. (Bonus points if said improvement was expressed in a language other than that with which you were born). Having missed this chance at enlightenment earlier in the Covid-19 mayhem, this week I decided to give it a go. To change up lockdown life for the better. I vowed that no longer would I spend my

On the privilege of seeing Harry Potter and the Cursed Child (no spoilers, promise!)

Beloved characters from books, films and television shows are often sacred ground for us fans. We have journeyed with them, taken them into our hearts and think about them when our real lives are being a little less than spectacular. And so, when these characters are revisited for what sometimes feels like a money grab, and what sometimes is (I’m sure) a form of closure for the creatives, we wait with the duelling emotions of hope and fear, wondering if those in charge are about to wreck everything. Most often than not, they do wreck things, a lot (Mitch Hurwitz and your Arrested Development season 4 shambles, I’m looking at you!). While I always want more Bridget Jones, Mad About the Boy didn’t quite do it for me and I’m terrified about seeing Bridget Jones’s Baby for fear that watching it will forever ruin the first film and first two books for me. Similarly, I’m nervous about the upcoming Gilmore Girls episodes even though I’d give my right arm to go back to Stars Hollow. And maybe