Margaret Murphy had a lovely house in Brisbane, Australia, and four children when she noticed “a cumulative feeling” that she wanted a different sort of life from that of her husband, Peter. They had been happily married for 30 years but their children had grown up, and in the emptier house their “different expectations” became more pronounced. “I wanted to see the world before I got too old, and have adventures,” she says.

So, at 56, Murphy travelled alone to the UK, where she knew no one, and at 60 started the first full-time job of her life.

“First career,” she corrects herself, because Murphy, now 71, has worked for 11 years as an education officer, supporting the professional development of surgeons. “A vocation,” she says. She and Peter are still together – but on separate continents. “It’s a freer, more modern way to look at married life for older couples when all their domestic responsibilities have been taken care of,” Murphy says. “If one spouse wants something different from the other, I’ve worked out a solution.”

When Murphy first headed to London in 2010, she told Peter she would return in six months to a year. But settling in a new country took longer than she thought. Early jobs were erratic, there were spells of unemployment, and she moved from house-share to house-share. One more year, she told herself – and Peter. And then another, and another.

She ended up staying so long, she says, because “lots of good things have happened here”.

Along with the rewarding job and new friendships, she has “learned about the diversity of other people’s lives”, and travelled in Europe and beyond. Peter visits, and they holiday together, sometimes meeting halfway, in New York or New Delhi.

Murphy’s tiny flat in north-west London is the architectural opposite of her spacious house with balconies in Queensland. But, after work, when she relaxes on her sofa, having done the food shopping or paid the bills, she feels a deep sense of achievement and self-reliance.

“When I came over here, I felt that it was my turn,” she says. Her mother had recently died, and there was “an opening, if you like, a new era. I could just look after myself.”

Murphy grew up in Brisbane, and two of her three siblings were born with a life-limiting illness. Throughout her childhood, Murphy and her mother were thrown together in caring for them. “I felt their tragedy so much,” she says. There was a brief respite when she accompanied her mother and brother to Paris, and ended up staying behind for a few months.

Soon after she returned, at 25, she met Peter at a party. They married the following year, and the year after that Murphy became a mother herself.

While the children were young, she worked sporadically, teaching English as a foreign language. The children brought “a huge source of interest and fun and company; new things happening every day”.

In her late 40s, struggling to find teaching work, Murphy embarked on a master’s degree, then a PhD, in linguistics. She was a student at university in Brisbane at the same time as her children; it was like being a young adult again.

Murphy knows that she will return to Brisbane – the house still feels like home – but she can’t say when. Some people find her choice selfish, she says. “I do feel that tension: wifely duties as opposed to doing something I want to do in later life.

“But I know in my heart that what I’ve done has been rewarding. Yes, you can think outside the box as a married couple. And yes, you can get on to the career ladder as an older woman.”

She has become a better decision-maker. “I’ve learned to be resilient and overcome hardships, and to look for solutions.” Most of all, she says: “I can deal with life on my own. And I have come to be more tolerant of other people.”

She and Peter, for instance, are more accepting and appreciative of their respective choices. And both of their worlds have opened up a little more.

Tell us: has your life taken a new direction after the age of 60?