Loser Gets a Life

Woot Woot party time for my month long anniversary in London town, and what better way to celebrate than spending no time there?

Thursday I had a melt down. My first significant one. The day only seemed to get better when I exited the house and went for a long walk and the lady at the local café offered me a job. I declined then had to go home and cook the bearded English man Paul lunch as promised. I made him steak and made myself tin spaghetti and cheese toasties, again this improved my well being, and he then kindly dropped me off at Turnham green to meet the delightful Mrs Henry (oops) I mean Miss Gompelman with whom I have had the pleasure of catching up with only two weeks prior. I had a stunning night out with my ripping friends, the delightful hot Kellie, her significant other Kev, my favourite bubbly non boyfriend boyfriend Oliver and his equally delectable and perhaps marginally better half the young smoking hot Jessica and their two friends who I don’t know the names of. The waitress was more uncoordinated than me and spilt the whole tray of beer over Kev, who then managed to salvage some from his shoe to drink, much to the delight of fellow diners. It also meant as he is big time sports star and twitter fanatic, that the tweeting for us to now pay only half of our dinner, and have desserts free as he was now swimming in beer, meant that we not only got that; we also managed upsize of all our ribs and two bottles of complimentary champagne to share. Winning!! The topic of dinner conversation improved considerably when I pointed out that I have retarded thumbs. Kellie says that I probably shouldn’t tell people about my gluten rash, my retarded thumbs and refrain from snorting and I may have more chance with men.  Dinner with my dearest’s/ London family was exactly what I needed. It was instant relief.

Friday was productive I had interviews & stacks of them, I also had to do this HS&E exam in the morning, which after my first job offer, I minded less that I failed. Apparently you should study for it, and as study is something foreign to me, it was only obvious that after everyone said for me to study that I didn’t, booked and then failed. Ha, fluke I can no more it appears!!

Anyway Paul said that his work mate had booked a night away with his gf in Brighton and couldn’t go anymore and wondered if I’d go, I didn’t really buy the story, but I’m all about making the most of an experience, particularly when he is treating me quite nicely- as opposed to some of you other losers that may be reading this so after a hectic day of interviews and job offers coming out of my ears, I felt like my head was imploding and said that I would go. Brighton, the beach, is nothing of the sort. It is quite shit actually. And as you all know how polite and nice I am, I’m sure he also is aware that he probably shouldn’t have taken an Aussie to one of the shittest beaches on earth. I promptly took the opportunity to go back to the room and book a holiday with the equally unemployed Jess to make up for the lack of sunny beach action I was getting. Mallorca here we come.

Upon my return from Brighton, and met up with my friend with the largest head and littlest teeth alive, Tosh, and his London posse who were all awesome and lovely, to watch the soccer double header in Shoreditch. Within the posse were some guys I met at the tour de France in 2012 when I was here last. Yes, London crew expanded!

Sunday meant only one thing. Majorca. Jess and I had a pleasant journey from Gatwick and arrived in Magaluf, which is like Ibiza, but crapper. Some people including old mate Paul call it Shagaluf, when you get here you can see why. We spent the first day trying to have a quiet night in, but conceded early when we commenced strawberry daiquiri beach drinking from arrival, basically. Our hotel is debaucherous, but we are too cool for these kids, so went out and found our own fun. We met some circus performers and are off on Wednesday to see their show which also includes all the sangria you want and a full meal- sounds amazing. I wonder if they actually perform or we just get so drunk that we think that they do? We lasted until 3am. Rookies.

Sun, meant that the beach was called for and we spent all day at the local. It was there that we met the Italians, and Jess mind you is super impressed that I could converse with them. Francesco is hot as, he is Calabrian, doesn’t speak a word of English and could do with some work on his front tooth and then he’d almost be perfect. He and his friends Giovanni, Tito all play Division 3 in the Italian soccer league. Anyhow they told us that Palma was good. Well they told me and I translated everything to Jess. That night we caught the local bus to Palma, and were so glad to have done so. Shopping, shopping, shopping and real inexpensive Spanish food which I was delighted to introduce Jess to (Magaluf is catered to the Brits, so the food is shite). Tuesday was equally as successful, we asked a local where the best beach was to go, he then told Jessica she was the most beautiful princess he had ever met (whilst I was sitting there saying huh excuse me, and he goes oh’ you’re alright too but she is perfect.) and told us we were looking for Illettas. We asked numerous people for directions, none knew, apparently people rarely venture out of Shagaluf and said the beach is beautiful here why leave? Wow, so glad we went; this place was liquid ecstasy. It was like Lagos, Portugal but not quite as beautiful, with considerably warmer aqua blue water.

The remaining nights out were like a cloudy brain space. We met many ripped, smoking hot boys, i sat there and listened to every guy tell Miss J how she was perfect while she explained she had a boyfriend and then they would simultaneously move their attention to me- wankers! We danced many a nights and mornings away and drank copious amounts of caramel vodka shots, daiquiris, mojitos and vodka lime sodas. We spent our days by the beach getting 10 euro massages from chinese women and planning what to eat. P.S. Miss J and her food consumption is up there with my Mrs Miss Salvatore.    

However now sitting at the airport McDonalds, writing this as a broken corpse of my former self, severely hung-over complete with a large hollow feeling having spent 4 nights partying in Majorca- (plus a large Maccas meal with extra cheeseburger), makes me excited to be heading home to my new life and maybe even start working. Although really I just wish I could retire already.  

Fulham like home

Wow. Have I had a fancy few days.

Have I done an update since my date?  What a date. Excuse me men of the world, apparently gentleman do exist! I met the lovely Paul, a bearded 6 foot tall, well dressed boy at two of my debaucherous expeditions out in Richmond. He asked me for my number and texted me and asked me on a date. So it was only appropriate to meet him at Richmond station on a lovely sunny day. I greeted him, he was carrying a large man bag and he told wouldn’t tell me where we were going. We ended up at the green in Richmond where he opened out a picnic rug and lots of food and wine, wow amazing! We stayed at the park soaking the sun for a good 4 hours and then went to the river for a walk. Came home to the housemates grilling me about the date, and I was like ‘English guys are so different to Australian guys…’ and they were like ‘no he doesn’t sound English, he sounds gay.’ Haha love them already. He is keen to catch up again, we’ll see. It is nice being treated nicely though I must say.

I went out Thursday night to meet up with some old mates from Lower Plenty in Marylebone. And what began as a day out intruding Oli’s GF Jess to a quiet night out, turned in to a massive night which started when I walked in to the pub and recognised an old Indian man. ‘Excuse me Sir, you are really familiar, do you hang out at the Churchill Arms in Notting Hill’ ‘Yes dear I do.’ ‘Well, I met you when I was there with my parents 5 years ago, you had your brother in law over.’ Man tells me to order whatever we want- he will pay. Whoop Whoop! ‘Hello well connected older man, do you know anyone in Construction? I’m after a job’, ‘nope, but these are my friends, introducing me to other people. One a big dog lawyer i will refer to as Mr Big, he was so impressed when I told him about my housemates. I can’t go in to heaps of depth; because I don’t want Mr Murdoch or Rebekah to read my blog and use it as evidence in court, but Jess and I ended up getting chaeffered from the pub we were at to the Marylebone Hotel, being greeted with bottles of champagne, cocktails and meeting all the local loaded famous types, plastic surgeons on Harley Street, etc. Fair to say we met the big dogs. Thankfully Mr Big’s personal chauffer then chauffeured me back to Fulham too. Plus I’m catching up with some of Mr Big’s mates, and he reckons he will be able to get me a job too... his friend suggested a 42yo multi millionaire friend of hers would love me. Look I stood firm and told her that 42 was well outside my upper limit, but then she said he is good looking so maybe I wont say no!

The hangover Friday was excruciating. I don’t know how I made it out of bed and on the 3:17pm train from Victoria. Perhaps a fluke! Anyway I made it, and had a great weekend away with an old colleague Jane Wilson, and her husband Rod. Geez I had no idea I’d get so drunk again on Saturday with Janey, but 4 bottles of Rose and an FA Cup final win by the gunners, meant we were all in the mood for celebrating. And celebrate we did, until the end of the night, when I asked Rod to throw me the house keys and he underarm high girl threw them 15 meters from me over a hedge! The whole town was searching for the barn keys, until we gave up and Rod nearly killed himself jumping from some height to the pavement below. Fair to say the owner was less than impressed to come and let us in demanding 25£ straight away, and even more so when we said we had lost the keys. Apparently it would cost £200 quid to replace the locks on a Sunday. Thankfully as soon as we had all woken up, a short stroll to the house and hedge where we’d been searching and the keys had been found, no where near the search area, a good 30 meters from where I was standing.

Hungover again, and back to Fulham. Starting to feel like home.

My new home.

Excuse me whilst i become a new mother for a second to establish time frames: Yesterday marked my two weeks in London. Happy two weeks to me! 

In two weeks I've had three interviews, one for a permanent role, two for contracting recruitment companies. The job that i want is with a leading consultancy project management firm; my gut feel was that the interview went really well, however after a week or so of hearing anything and toiling in my head what i should and shouldn't have said in the interview, i was starting to feel rather down. Then I met up with the girl who put me in contact with them = great news! Not only did she shout me lunch, she said they were really impressed with me, so fingers crossed it will amount to something. 

For those of you that don't know i'm usually an uppy person, upping everyone around me, however as i'm riddled with anxiety and control issues (maybe it has something to do with while i'm still single?) I've had some issues adjusting to the not having a system, (something an ox Virgo relishes), not having a job, living in peoples living rooms, feeling rather hobo, plus my brain hates being unemployed. This temporary downy side to me which has reared its ugly head is slowly recessing which is great, getting the super news about the job has buoyed me and i think i've found myself a home to move in to... 

So basically what happened is the perfect home for me was found first up. BUT i thought i was just rushing in to it, took half a day to make up my mind, and missed out. Since then, its been disaster after disaster, really lovely eastern European housemates, but eastern European housemates none the less, see through floors, no living rooms, and some really dodgy looking commission flats which i didn't even bother going in to, and areas which i wouldn't want to live in- i.e, dark streets, commission areas etc. 

However, I think i have found somewhere which is good! It's £60 a month more than the amazing place i found first up, but the good news is that although the rent is expensive, all rents seem expensive, and i don't need to pay a bond so that's a nice change, so if i don't like it, i can just move out! 

  

Here is the good bit, my new home: i'll be living with 2 criminal lawyers- one is covered in tattoos, has metal paraphernalia, a pet snake, and 2 excitable rescue staffies- Winnie & Sam, he enjoys keeping things overtly clean, and hosting dinner parties, the other looks like a lawyer, clean cut and refined, both ride to work and kicked out their last housemate because she didn't shower and said that she had to leave because their lesbian cousin from Australia is moving in- hence why they think I will be perfect as the story fits so well. I entered the house with the two dogs darting towards me, thinking i'd just be polite and that the guy who greeted me had bogan dogs, tattoos and so forth, also he was wearing runners with shorts which most of you know i hate, i told him his fashion sense was problematic,  and the dudes were weird, then i started chatting and i just didn't want to leave and as soon as i got to Fulham Broadway station i considered buying a bottle of red and walking back there to celebrate, then looked at my phone and i had a message from the lads saying they had held a house meeting and thought i would be perfect. So here are some pics. 

   

No beating around any bushes, i'm moving in Sunday- so tomorrow. I think anyways! 

I'm heading to watch the London AFL- Wandsworth Demons play today (I know i'm a Wildcats fan but i should change cos one of their hall of famers is a massive cheating lying scum piece of garbage wanker... but there are also lots of good ones, and Pettie played for them so i'm staying a Wildcat fan and just going to today's game in disguise.) cos we all know they hate each other, for anyone interested the Cats beat the demons last week by one point. I'm hoping to catch up with Vanessa Budd at the game too which is great! Can't wait to see her pretty face. 

I'm super excited to be staying at Kellie's tonight, and we will be heading out in Richmond, and meeting Ollie's girlfriend which is exciting! It is also exciting as Richmond is SO much fun to go out in!! Its so debaucherous... or maybe that's just my contribution! 

All week, job hunting, and house hunting has been exhausting, i'm looking forward to having a base and heading away next weekend to the south with an old work colleague. I'm also considering booking a trip to Spain or Malta soon, its like $200 quid all inclusive. We'll see. 

Over and out homies. Peace, Love and happy mother's day Lynnie, Granny & Nonna xx 

Settling can be unsettling

So i must commence by saying my first week was great. I had some nights out, met some amazing people and made so many decisions my head is fried. On the weekend friends of Kev & Kels came over- Abbie and Nim and we were supposed to go to the Kew Garden's funfair. The funfair however was a bit of a fizzle with the largest ride being a childrens merry-go-round which apparently could hold the weight of two fully grown rugby players- both Nim ( picture largest human in the world, with glorious mane of hair like a lion, kind of looks like The UNdertaker for any wrestling fans) and Kev, who is a blonde barbie doll, with muscles (this is to be taken as a compliment as its hard for me to be overtly complimentary about my closest friends boyfriends. After much disappointment due to lack of festivities we ventured to the pub and downed a few jugs of pimms. Soon after Nim & his equally glorious mained GF Abbie, an Essex living Rapunzel lookalike, with equally long hair but pocket rocket sized, left, and enroute home in their convertible smart car rang to inform us that there was actually a large funfair in Ealling. So off we went. Caught a bus for halfa, walked a good 20 and found our Pickey ran funfair complete with human sized rides, pyramid balls and Ollie's favorite darts games. To my amaze i conjured up enough guts to trial the childrens roller coaster with Ollie, who appeared just as wussy as me. The best thing about the ride was Ollie shit scared the whole time, it made me forget that Pickey's had built the rollercoaster and instead spent the whole ride deep nose snorting and rolling laughter at Ollie's frightened screams! Kev and Kellie led the way on all the scary rides, i had no interest.

Had a great day with Candice in town on Friday. It was a great day catching up in Soho. Had a great dinner at a mexican Stevie Babe Malco recommended that apparently Rhianna eats at. We had a few wines, met some swedish guys and i was briefly stalked by an identical replica of TinTin. Typical male, the less attention i gave him and the meaner i was to him, the more of me he wanted. He didnt even get the hint when i ran off on him. Again, a couple more wines and i had quite a bad reaction so called it an early night rather than catching up with other friends and hitting the town. Ollie came and jumped on my living room sofa at 3am and gave me some d&M's before passing out. The worst thing about the whole experience was that it took him an hour to pass out and he talked the whole time, considering i'd just vomited from a migraine only 3 hours prior i wasn't quite as enthusiastic to listen!

The other day i went to Clapham - which i have nicknamed the venereal disease as it has a highly pollinated common (greenery) which i'm highly allergic to and end up fully rashed up. (Its sexy as). I met up with Blaise there (who i'm now crashing with) and Nicole who is also from Traralgon. Treasy's little sister. She had been on a 4 day bender and sounded like a chain smoking Thelma from the Simpson's.I informed her that if she continued smoking she will need a button to her wind pipe to talk! Those crazy girls stayed out till 6am. Blaise was still carrying some battlescars when i got to her house at 9pm after spending a few hours trying to get Ollie's couch in to the flat in Twickenham i've decided is too far out for me to live in. It didnt fit, but in the time it took Ollie and Kev trying different configurations, the sexy TeOka and i got our shit together and built 3 pieces of ikea furniture. That night we ate dinner at 10pm - Blaise's first meal for the day! It was the most expensive, smallest £14 domino's gluten free pizza ever. I felt completely ripped off.

I'm like a pressure cooker at present. I have put so much pressure on myself to achieve, i feel like i've underachieved as its been a week and i'm still jobless and couch surfing through my ever endearing friends. I'm now at the gorgeous Martin/ Misc household in Chiswick. My handbag has been renamed the vortex, as it has so much stuff in it constantly between all the interviews, house viewings and weather prep ie umbrella and scarf. I must say however the weather has been nothing short of glorious.

I had a great interview the other day but my stupid anxious head gets all stressed out turning things around and making me feel maybe it wasn't as i'm yet to hear back. Bank holiday + 2 working days since interview. This happened when i viewed a nice flatshare in She Bu, i spent a whole half day deciding and by the time i decided, the room was taken, now i'm scared i will never find another, decent flat. I viewed a small dog box in Fulham today. I decided i wouldn't house my dog in it so i wouldn't be happy in it either. All i want is a small double room with a wardrobe, sick housemates and some sky tv in the living room, how hard can that be to find you say? It is hard... and when you find it you should say yes and not spend half a day thinking about it / missing out. Lesson learnt the hard way. Now to work out how long you leave it after an interview to contact them. Argh! Who knows!?!? Meanwhile I've spent all night trying to make up for my unsuccess so far by applying for everything... It's like my love life.

So today i went to the job centre to get my NI number. I struggled to sign my name the same every time so after 4 attempts i just said to the guy- look its me, i can't sign it, i dont know why, it may be because i got my passport when i was 15. Way to make myself feel better about myself. So then i went to Blaise's gym in Chelsea (where Princess Beatice goes may i add) and had a half price facial (fyi dudes its not the sexual type, the beauty face type-), to try and make up for some of it all. I don't want much. A job, a room and a gym membership... Just the routine that i was sick of in Aus. Oh the irony....