I am getting particularly bad of late at this blog business.
As you most likely can tell, the more I settle in, the more I feel like a
resident and less like a blogging tourist. Therefore rather than bore you with
all my happenings I've put together a chronological order highlights/ low-lights list .
1)
Working Class yobo
You will all be pleased to know that after some slight
teething problems, I've managed to grow some confidence in my own ability and
at the same time commence enjoying my working life. The difference I’ve noticed
between working for a contractor to client is generally just the amount of time
something takes. From what I can tell so far; its based solely on the Client
being less willing to offend the architect. I am PM on 2 projects, one is a
considerable refurb and the other is considerably bigger refurb which almost is
a new build, with the addition of a new façade and two extra levels. My direct
boss is the best; he rings me to check that I’m OK or emails me apologising
that he isn't around to help. I represented at the first client meeting and
after sitting quiet for some lengthy discussions with the architects about some
fluffy material make up, and the clock hitting 5pm , I felt it necessary to introduce
some charge in to the meeting, particularly as it was kick-off for Holland Vs
Socceroos. Somehow it spurred me on to do a punchy synopsis of events, and
promptly close the meeting not only looking, but sounding like a boss.
At one time during my synopsis, the tangent started veering and
discussion commenced to murmur level, the client basically interrupted
and said ‘Sorry Simone, carry on.’ Under the stress of it hitting quarter past
5 and missing a good 15 minutes of the game I anticipated I’d check my phone
and we would be losing by 6 goals. I was so flustered i couldn't quickly find a
pub, so I boarded the district for home.
2)
World cup frenzy/ Making new
friends
I made it to West Ken at half time. When I discovered at the
pub next to the station (three kings) that it was 1-1, I looked in, and the
pub was full of Dutch supporters. I wasn't interested in joining them so
commenced my run to the local, the Rylston. Somewhere during my jog- (wearing
boss work clothes and heels) My bag got caught on a door handle. It proceeded
to swing me in to the glass door at a random shop front. Someone saw, but I didn't have time to take
light of the moment. I was on a mission. I arrived at the pub, sweaty, gross
and in time for the second half. I was also happy to find the pub full of Aussies. My favourites. I joined some at the table in front of the big screen
and shook through the last half, feeling every moment as if I was there with
them. It wasn't long before we scored a goal and we were rejoicing like we had
won the world cup. Then amazing- the table next to us offered us their nachos
cos they were full. But then disaster… I don’t know why they are so ignorant
when It comes to nachos in this country. First it began with Ms TeOka and I in
our drunken state explaining to the Mexican man at the Rugby7s that he was
doing it all wrong and we would teach him how to make nachos some weeks back,
and ever since the same bad thing has happened… people here don’t layer
Nachos!!! Not only do they not layer nachos, they have the ratio completely
wrong, way too many chips with no sauce or cheese, and nowhere near enough
salsa or guac. So after some disappointing nachos and the next disappointment
of the Dutch leveling, we were starting to lose vision of the dream. It wasn't long before we had lost… and we did not care in the slightest. We were all
celebrating and drinking like we had won the world cup. After all we had played
amazing. Plus, goal of the series in game 2 from Sir Tim Cahill. I got a
text from Antony (My housemate) asking to feed the dogs who I affectionately now refer to as
‘the ferals.’ Staffys are stupid dogs, not as stupid as Dalmatians, but quite
‘duh’; ours are timid in nature, and quite affectionate, but have a real
vicious feral side, the male particularly, he reminds me of a controlling
boyfriend that belts his wife (poor Winnie) I suspect it’s the breed however.
Anyhow... tangent! I said bye to the table- a few Aussies from Perth, some Victorian vixens and some battler from South Australia that introduced himself as
Wayniac (to be fair- I get the idea he was a social outcast that had invited
himself to the soccer. Call of the day was when I asked him if anyone called
him ‘Wayne Kerr’ haha.) and said ‘I’m off home to cook carbonara and feed
the dogs’ to which they insisted I come back for the 8pm game and bring them
some carbonara. Those of you that know me well, know that I do enjoy a good
shock value, and will do most things for entertainment purposes. So after
feeding the dogs, I made a massive pot of carbonara and a large salad and put
it in a take-away container before promptly walking back to the pub. When I
walked in it was a standing ovation and high fives all round. The food was
outstanding. I am a great cook / massive catch, and I re-iterate, still single! I
got more applause at 10pm when I was hungry again and ventured in to the pubs
kitchen to have a word to their chef 'Irish' (who i instantly hated) about layering nachos. The next batch
although improved, still needed some work. But I was happy to call it a night,
having made some new friends, and finally, a Sunday brunch friend in the lovely
Gia. The next day at work felt like a Monday, slightly hungover, although could get used
to this Tuesday night drinking to break up the week, it felt like a 3 day week and was the weekend again before i knew it!
3)
Royal Ascot races
Firstly I woke up to a few missed calls and was very joyous
to read my messages for the day informing me that Bianca had finally purchased
a house. Celebration time!! After in excess of two years of toil and looking at
hundreds of dumps, bidding at a number of auctions, finally, success!!! Very
proud to say that when I return, in two years or whenever it may be, (at this
rate, I may never return) but when I do, I will be living in North Fitzroy co
inner north eastern inhabitants- get excited! Hopefully I’ll time it perfectly
and arrive back just after any necessary renovations have taken place.
Anyhow an early start meant we met at the Champion in
Notting Hill at 10am. We chartered a bus to take a group of 24 of us to Ascot.
Thankfully Bianca (amazing Bianca we will refer to her as herein) had
given in to my demands and leant us her membership to get in to the Royal
Enclosure. It meant that I got to be Bianca for the day, and as a result I
behaved, which makes for boring reading (I’d woken up with a sore throat so
wasn’t quite feeling it). Basically we got dressed up, got drunk, saw the
queen, watched a little bit of the horse races and finished up at a ripping
after party in the Bird Cage at Royal Ascot. I chatted up the hottest guy in
the room, of course he was an Aussie, but when it became clear that he was a
drunken liability and logistically it wasn’t going to work as I had to leave at
8:30pm for the 9:30 bus, I walked off on him. By 8:30pm we conjured up the crew
and made a scattered dash for the 9:30pm bus which no one remembered where it
was parked. so after cutting a lap around ascot, and then over the track
itself, we all made the bus home… except my mate Tosh- the man with the largest
scone in history was nowhere to be seen at departure time. His phone had also
gone dead. The bus home was great except I had no voice, so was
remarkably and forcedly silent, and spent the journey home listening to
everyone else tearing up some cracking Johnny Farnham tracks and any other song
that someone remotely knew some words to. Upon our arrival back to Notting Hill
Champion Hotel, with no ability to speak, I called it a night. Apparently
Tosh ended up back at the pub later on having boarded the wrong bus home. I’m
honestly surprised they could accommodate his massive head haha.
4)
Bloody Sunday.
I woke up Sunday feeling decidedly worse, illness wise, not
hung-over however which made for a welcome change. I made it to brunch with my
new friends, and tried out another of Fulham’s finest ‘Local Hero’, which
serves GF bread, one of the other rarities in this country. Almost as rare as
bins. I came home from brunch with the intention to have a quick turnaround and
walk to the bike shop and trial bikes before Sunday arv drinks. But when I got
home I was so tired, and felt like crap still so had a lie down. I woke up from
a slight slumber and went downstairs to the kitchen to a proud Sammy (one of
the ferals) ushing me outside. OH MY GAWD. The feral Sam, had mauled the
neighbours cat to death and it was lying lifeless in the courtyard. Unable to
cope I ran out of the kitchen locking the door behind me, and went to Gia’s
house in disgust. I concurrently messaged my housemate Tony explaining I was
not coping and it needed to be dealt with asap. He asked if I could go home and
lock the back door and throw something over the cat until he got home later
than night… I abruptly declined and instead joined the ladies at the pub after
I’d had a bike test ride. Strangely the dead feline in my yard didn't make me
lose my appetite. As soon as Antony had cleared the reminisce of the creature,
I made dinner. Apparently the neighbour was shocked but coped fine with the
loss of his pet. I, still not coping, have commenced looking for another place
to live. Without stupid staffy’s… and no Dalmatians either.
