Fulham Frantic

I have been rather slack of late. Apologies. This blog has been written in 2 parts, pre and post employment with a post script.

Part 1)

As I sit here in the pub, eating my cheesy chips, sipping my rosé and watching the cats dominate the blues, it only seems an appropriate time to start writing a catch up blog to rub in how awesome life is at the moment. (Just as the blues hit the lead haha).

I tried to do a month without alcohol. I managed a day (Wednesday which became known as my 2^nd alcohol free day in 2 months or so!), then whilst I was out having Brunch at my new fav café with the ex boss’s yearling, young Jay, I got my final job offer through, and promptly accepted it. What followed was a trip to the Fulham Mitre for a Glutonous chicken parma which they made with no ham plus pineapple, and a gravy boat- amazeballs!!! Then off to the Durrell, many vodka sodas and shots later, the celebration was on. Lucky I got walked home by a kind hearted lad, or I would’ve had no idea where I lived. I lasted a day! Haha.

Friday I thought, ok, I’ll start again… But then the cats game started at 10:30am,  and I missed the Heat/ Spurs game last night and cos I was slightly hungover it was only fair that I go to the pub and try and get the game on TV. I made it here by lunch, walked in to an English pub, downtown Fulham Broadway, asked the bar man to put it on ESPN and didn’t realise it meant that it would be on all 20 screens, every geezer that walks in is looking at me like, ‘what is this crap?’ Plus… its getting exciting, so I’m getting silently vocal (i.e, fist pumps)!!!!

Yes! What a finish. So glad we won. Especially because Andy Winn is a massive Carlton flog and I will make sure he reads this (miss you treasure, and Matilda too!). Wow, I really didn’t think we would win! Bang. Lucky I just got a text to catch up with Mr Big and Mrs S later (whom you met in a previous episode). Couple of cheeky celebration ciders in Kensington, that’s the only ammunition I need. Ciao 

Part 2)

So the second part of this is me filling everyone in about work. But first I should highlight the ridiculous hangover I woke up with on Saturday. Ridiculous- probably the worst of my life so far. Plus I vomited for hours. I think God was punishing me for having such a ridiculously good Friday. Mr Big & Mrs S have way too much cash and spent way too much of it on copious amounts of Rosé for me, and in the process Mrs S introduced me to her 50 odd year old friend, that has 14 year old children who they thought would be a great match for me... Sorry folks, age does weary them, and the years do condemn. So after accepting a lift home from old mate who wants to get in to my pants’ driver, and pocketing the 10£ change I felt quite accomplished… apart from that awful text message and phone call regret I got when I checked my phone the next morning- like the time I got ridiculously spastic and left 27 messages on Mick Boyland’s phone singing Lionel Richies ‘Hello, is it me you’re looking for?’. Anyhow I made it to the Polo to catch up with my other London family- Tosh, Train, Jo + about 15 other Aussies, by 3pm. Just after I’d taught myself how to eat again and keep water down and basically as soon as I arrived I had my new family offering me jugs of Pimms. My hangover was still bad late in to the arvo and with the sun beaming down, my criteria (some of you know what I’m talking about) soon dwindled to 6’1 and a hat. Unfortunately/ fortunately for me none of my compatriots was wearing a hat and when I started feeling dry reechy from the sugary pimms- I thankfully had learnt my lesson from the previous nights actions and left early; short walk home was boosted by my own amazingness, through the hungover/ semi drunken stupor I had the foresight to buy a slab of meat which was most delicious cooked rare with a side of crinkle cut cheesy chips when I got home. (Probably should wife me lads.)

Anyhow the job, so Sunday, again I behaved. I didn’t drink – yes, starting to lose count of my alcohol free days! I still met my fav’s Train and Jo in Notting Hill post tanning session at Holland park and post shop at She Bu Westfield where I celebrated getting a job again by dropping 200 odd quid on work clothes. There are still so many clothes I have on visual lay-by until I get paid! Well that’s after I pay my awesome, tall giraffe of a brother in law back!!

First day was awful. It started with no sleep on Sunday night (anxiety levels= extreme), then I got on the wrong tube and ended up having to change 3 times, then I had the most awful coffee, and it was so disgusting I threw half of it out. Then when I got to work it was all a bit daunting. It’s a PM role for a Client Consultancy firm. So not only have I moved across the world, I’ve also changed careers. I felt completely out of my depth and the delay on the tube home only made me feel worse. So I got home after my first 10 hour working day and made a delicious Puttanesca, and was in bed early by 10:30pm.

Second day was great; the massive sleep helped! Then when I got to work, I had a great coffee and was in work early. I had a productive meeting, realised the work I had done wasn’t completely wrong and felt much better by the end of the day- even a train delay didn’t annoy me too much and I even got some rare exercise in! Ran a block or so and my feet hurt so went home and had 4 slices of prosciutto for dinner (cbf cooking).  The worst thing about day 2 was to much of the office’s delight (literally there’s like 5 Aussies in 500 employees)- I drew Australia in the World Cup Sweep …I want my 2£ back!!!

With the great day I decided to end it on a great note, and went back to my favourite coffee shop to see my new Italian boyfriends, my tall blue eyed, brown haired names sake  Simone & Roberto the not so tall, more traditional looking Italian. They are great. Simone made my night. He made me an iced mocha with real gelato and he had olives and more prosciutto which basically would be my ideal diet. Life is good. Stumpy thumb up to life right now.

Post Script.

You may realise there is no reference to Paul the nice English boy I went to Brighton with. Basically, nice guys can also be boring. So I let that one dissipate. Plus if I’m honest- the fact he said Three instead of Free really frustrated me, and he always bloody agreed with me and did as he was told. Who wants that really, don’t want to date a puppet. Cheers to whoever prematurely mentioned I had a ‘friend’ to Nonna and Grandma too. In Nonna’s words ‘I very much appreciated’ this.