High & Low Lights!

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.  

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.    

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....

Three weeks to change zones

Three weeks, my how time has flown. It went from Groundhog Day in Melbourne to new adventures in London.

The plane over was a disaster. I took the sleep initiative to drop a 10mg Temazapan sleeping tablet however it didn’t work. So I ordered a glass of red.. and I was still wide awake. I watched Philomena (start of tears, 4.5 spuds, quick synopsis: Mean Christian nuns take illegitimate kids from their mothers, sell them and then refuse to tell them where they are, mother spends whole life looking for child) and then started another movie with another glass of red- the book thief (5 spuds, more tears- no spoilers, just watch it). Somewhere thereafter through the tears and lack of air I needed to jump from the window seat over the two people next to me to vomit. Disaster. Thankfully I made it to the toilet and saved some grace. I must say the old couple next to me were very compassionate and understanding and the flight attendants’, particularly the pretty buxom one called ‘Angel’ was specifically brilliant. After a 1.5hr stopover in Qatar, the worlds most bizarre and packed airport, I then sat in my place- thankfully an exit seat. The worried and most thoughtful flight attendant brought me a coke before we took off and it did the trick. I proceeded to watch another film about Mohammad Ali which was a great documovie that followed the progress of his court case when he declined to enter Vietnam war. 

I was greeted after some significant travel by my gorgeous, lovely, caring, considerate friend Kellie TeOka with whom I am staying for the interim. Upon opening my suitcase i found that i'd packed my travel sickness pills in my checked luggage. Note to self- this is not ideal!!!

I’ve settled in to ye old London town quite well. I attended my first ever Rugby Union game which was exciting. I still don’t get it, nor will I get in to it. But it was great viewing for something different. The rugby ground is under a Heathrow Flight path so the 90sec gap between planes landing was enough to keep me enthralled throughout the game.

Finally we went out in Richmond with a bunch of new friends. All were lovely and all made me feel very welcome, although one can be typified by Laura’s favourite word- ‘beast’, she loved to grind, and was very entertaining.

The first weekday has been busy, the start of the interviews and some time to myself to think about the short term goals. I’ve taken the opportunity to move in with a friend next week in a house in Twickenham. It’s much further out than I want to be in long term but for the short term it’s perfect, rent is cheaper, I have a space to call my own and I don’t yet have a job so the bonus of not having to pay bond is a god send. I’m losing 50/50 at the moment, or so I’m told, so the less I have to transfer to start off with; the better. Plus ‘Ollie’ my new housemate is the gayest straight man ever. He is such a hoot. If I were selling him I would say he is typical English, except for the fact he has spent a significant portion of his life in Aus, he dresses like a superstar, he is clean, loves to cook and likes listening to beyonce. He also drives and sells electric BMWs in Kensington which should work out premium getting in and out of town seeing as though Twickenham seems like the other side of the universe. Lucky he is awesome! I’ve super enjoyed my time with Kellie although it is hard for me trying to adjust to suitcase living which is why the move next week will be so significant. Also it will give me the option to focus on getting a job, once that is done; I can then look in to moving closer.

Today I ventured to my/ Bianca/ Petties’s old haunt- Holland park. I was supposed to view a room, and then when I walked to the address I noticed it was the ghetto estate of Holland Park and I then made the decision to formally notify Oliver of my wise choice to become houseys. Apart from the ghetto, it was great to be there and have some time at Westfield. I have already broken a promise to myself (not to buy anything until I get a job) and purchased a canary yellow skater dress for £19. I couldn’t help it; I looked amazing in the mirror. Then as I left Westfield some dude approached me about modelling, I laughed and walked to Hammersmith. It would be less funny if I didn’t go the wrong way and end up walking a ridiculously long way then boarding a bus to hammer town as a broken footed woman.

Anyhow, my back is sore, and I’m tired.

Peace.