In the weeks leading up to our departure from Melbourne, something just didn't seem right. Despite the fact that we were close to embarking on the final - and possibly most interesting - chapter of our journey, we weren't filled with the same wonder, excitement and trepidation that we felt when leaving our 'native' Manchester in November 2011.

In truth, neither Anne nor I really felt anything. Well, that is except for the gut-wrenching heartbreak for leaving a city and country that had been so welcoming and as such, given us a sense of belonging.

Of course, staying in Australia for almost two years was never part of our plan; our original itinerary would've actually seen us leave just before Christmas 2012 and then return to England by around May 2013. But when you're enjoying yourself as much as we did, you'll postpone departing until it was absolutely necessary.

So, with that in mind and with the festive season approaching in our first year, we made the choice of extending our initial Working Holiday visa by a further 12 months. However, this meant completing three months 'regional' work - something that we were fortunate to have carried out with a lovely family on a small farm in Apsley, Victoria.

After fulfilling our rural obligations in April 2013 and with the Australian government suitably appeased, we headed back to Melbourne and life just picked back up where it left off: We were straight back into an apartment in the same building as before; I even got my old job back at the Chambers of Commerce. It was as if we never left, really.

Onward travel plans didn't really feature much either. My mum and family had booked to come and see us in late October 2013 - so we had that to look forward to - but other than that, we didn't really discuss moving on too much; we just knew was that we'd have to leave by the end of February 2014 in order to make it through the Americas before September, at which point we're heading over to Greece for my sister's wedding.

October came and went, as did my family. Anne and I then decided that we'd have to start really focusing on the next leg. But we didn't. Well, not until the last 8 weeks, anyway.

You see, I'd embarked on a business venture with one of my oldest and closest friends and as such, I didn't really have much spare time to dedicate elsewhere. Anne tried her best, but organising was too much a mammoth task for one person.

I managed to get myself involved and with Anne's orchestration, we booked our core flights, then we set a plan of action for everything that had to be sorted before we left: posting a box of things home; selling everything else; buying the necessities for our journey; and booking a few bits in New Zealand, which was naturally to be our first leg.

So, we trudged our way through the list of chores and before we even realised, it was our departure weekend and we'd just cleared our apartment of all of the belongings that we'd accumulated over our time here (which was actually more than we'd realised - it's amazing how much s*** you collate without even realising it).

Then it got to Sunday - our actual leaving day - but it still didn't feel right and just seemed like the complete opposite to our initial departure.

Firstly, there was no mad dash around town in order to try and get a shoe changed to its correct size. There was no bus to a dreary port. There was no ferry. No real excitement. No real fear.

This time, we had everything in order and simply took a stress-free taxi to the airport, had a beer, then headed to our departure gate.

It was then that things seemed to change and I think we can credit it to an encounter with one of the happiest blokes that I've ever met. His name was Martin and he was a rodeo champion (well, he didn't say 'champion' per se, but to me he deserves the accolade).

Our conversation was brief, but he managed to invite us down to his rodeo competition in Queenstown on Saturday, however, we had to decline as we'd already booked a trek for that weekend.

All of a sudden, Martin's enthusiasm seemed to rub off on us and it was then that we began to feel giddy about our next adventure. We were heading to a country that we'd both wanted to visit since being children, after all.

On the plane, there was a mix-up with a pie that left a man sat opposite us empty-handed. With the flight attendants having sold out, I donated mine to the gentlemen and instead bought a sandwich. So, the stewardess repaid my random act of kindness by chucking Anne and me a free beer each - New Zealand hospitality was something that we could get used to.

As we descended into Christchurch, I began to wonder how the city had coped with the rebuilding project after the devastating earthquake a few years back, as well as what impact it had on the locals.

Well, my questions were answered without me even having to probe, as within 30 seconds of our taxi-ride to our lodgings for the next few nights, the driver voluntarily unloaded his thoughts on what he has labelled a 'farce'.

He told us about how none of the rebuilding project has even begun, which was partly due to the state of the foundations, but mainly down to the government's lack of action. He made it evident that tourism and general business was still being impacted within the area and so we were keen to see the situation for ourselves.

After settling into our makeshift garage-bedroom - a cheap and humble find on airbnb.com - Anne hit the sack while I stayed up to watch Man City take on Sunderland in the League Cup Final, before drifting off at around 5.30am.

The two-hour time difference between Melbourne and New Zealand took its toll on us and so we didn't make it out until almost 1pm on our one day in Christchurch. We meandered through the Botanical Gardens on our way to the city centre, before stumbling upon the cathedral - one of the worst hit buildings in the quake - which was still half-standing, albeit with the aid of a lot of support.

As I was snapping a few photos of the ruins, I caught something in my peripheral vision that completely took me aback. I had to blink a few times before it registered, but before me stood an elderly fellow dressed as a wizard, complete with a staff and pointy hat.

Now, one of my mates in Melbourne had warned me of the 'Lord of the Rings madness', but surely this was taking it a bit too far? I had to investigate further.

After edging our way over to the coffee stand where he was chatting to the owners, we ordered a café latte each - so not to look overly inconspicuous - and I then sheepishly asked for a photo, in the hope of it being an ice-breaker, if anything.

He duly obliged and began to tell us the story of his life. Well, it turned out that we had encountered somewhat of a national celebrity. Scratch that - he was a 'living work of art' as he put it.

The Wizard continued to divulge more information about himself and it just so happened that the New Zealand Art Gallery had actually declared him a 'living work of art' and an ex-Prime Minister had given him the title of official Wizard of New Zealand. His passport and driving license was even registered in the name 'Wizard, The'.

Both Anne and I were mesmerised as he continued to discuss his battles with the Catholic church about whether to rebuild or demolish the cathedral - he was fighting for the former - and his ideas for what he's labelled 'The Fun Revolution' - basically the first step away from modern day consumerism.

Despite there being a slight sexist undertone to his beliefs, you could see that there was some method in all of the madness, although I'm not too sure about his plans for moving everyone from the cities into 'fun camps' modelled on 'Butlin's' and the old British sitcom, 'Hi-De-Hi!' - he might need to re-evaluate before making his 'Wizardism' policies concrete. That said, crazier things have caught on - look at Scientology for one.

After our chat, we wandered around the city a bit more, taking in some more of the post-quake sights and struggles, before picking up a few things and heading back to our garage.

Tomorrow, we embark on our campervan journey around the country and if Martin and The Wizard are anything to go by, then I think we might be in for a treat with some of these local characters - what a great country.