Next Bit

I'm going elsewhere now folks.

London has been amazing. But it's time to go somewhere I can only communicate through hand gestures and speaking louder.


I'm catching a cab at 4:30am on Wednesday. To go to Terminal 5. There is nothing positive in that sentence.

And another thing...

Also, it snowed on Sunday.
I got overexcited because the view from my bedroom window was adoreable.
This time last year we were sitting in the sun, before the onset of the summer that flooded.

Snow is ace until it starts messing with the public transport system.

Drug-Stabbing Time

I've said to heaps of people that I don't live in the safest part of London, but it isn't the worst part either. Tonight I picked Netta up from the new St Pancras and took her to Suza's house. On the way home, discovered that I had wandered into what looked like a set from The Bill. Police tape, a huge amount of 'bobbies' and those little white tents they put up to preserve blood stains. This is what had happened, for anyone who is interested: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/main.jhtml?xml=/news/2007/12/27/nstabbing127.xml

Of course, because they'd blocked a big chunk of Upper Street off, there were no buses heading down Essex Road and no cabs in the area either. So of course I am left with no other option but to walk home through hoodie central. Which to me only increases the likelihood of someone else (ie. me) getting mugged/stabbed/accosted by drunks. Oh look, I live in Islington/Stoke Newington where there have been numerous other stabbings of late. I think I'll just take a late night stroll home.

Anyway, I'm now watching comic relief. Stabbings and Take That performing for charity. Tomorrow I am heading out to buy a Kevlar jacket.

Welcome to England Netta.

Red Red Wine/I Want To Ride My Bicycle/It Is A Truth Universally Acknowledged

I haven't blogged for a while. I don't know why. I have been busy, but no busier than usual. I have felt guilty about it, not fo your sake (I note hte overwhelming concern about my safety given that everyone is trying to blow everything up), but for mine, because the leather bound journal idea has long sense ceased to be a reality so whatever I am writing here is likely to be the only permanent record of anything I have done. Jon suggested that one day I may look back at the time I have taken writing in a journal, or blogging, and think 'I wish I had spent my time doing other things'. I would tend to disagree.

One day I am going to forget everything (I can't veen remember where I was on Tuesday, although given how hungover I've been all this week I must have been drinking. No - that's right, I went to London Bridge for a drink with Marianne. See, I figured it out, but that won't always be possible)

It is a Friday night. I am sitting in my flat, alone, with a bottle of wine, Sam Cooke, and candle light. Cliche, much? Nice to do nothing.

BATH
A couple of weeks ago (30th of June) Marianne and I headed to Bath.
We got there and headed straight to Bristol so that Kat could look for a wedding dress. Her and Adam are newly engaged. None of you know these people. I didn't until a couple of weeks ago. I am trying to paint a picture.

Didn't get to see much of Bath because of the rain. I ducked into the Jane Austen museum briefly. Sorry Steph. Disappointing. The best bit was buying 'Persuasion' and reading it on the train home, where I had to stand for two hours because because hte train was over booked and we didn't get seats. Post Jane Austen Museum we went and looked at the die hards playing Boules in teh rain. They take their local tournament very seriously. It made me want to live in an English Village.

We were basically in Bath for the Taste food Festival. This being England, and it being summer, the outdoor food festival was a washout. An outdoor food festival in the pouring rain. The free ponchos they handed out in the door did little to warm us up. The tent giving out free whiskey did. As did the beer and wine tasting courses. Ah, the simple things.



Post drenching at the food festival we went out to a pub/club in bath where I ened up talking ot the DJ for about 3 hours about Motown. He even let me handle his vinyl. No, that is not a double entendre. All I am saying is that over here, the records Rob would charge me $15 for are about 50p. I think I may have to ship things home. Fun night all around.
Adam (I was staying with friends of Marianne's called Kat and Adam) woke me up the next morning for a game of Blackgammon, which he had taught me to play the day before. My response would have been 'I am not afraid of you and I will beat your ass' except for the fact that I am still not Yo La Tengo and my head was ripping open. Well, I did beat him. But I am not sure it counts if he is actually helping you because your head feels like it is going to explode. Having said that - I'm throwing the gauntlet down to anyone who wants to take me on.

Went to the cutest pub for lunch in a neighbouring village. It was about 400 years old and the floor actually sloped. Had a Sunday roast. Delightful. And then back to London.

TOUR DE FRANCE
London is a big city. The Tour de France was a big event. I don't know many people ion London. Hence it came as somewhat of a surprise to run straight into Dave, who I went to Siberia with, while walking through Green Park. Sat with Wayne and his parents, Katie, Deaks and Dave to watch the big screen, absorb the atmosphere and eat ice cream.

Watched a couple of cyclists live, but they went past pretty quickly and the crowds at the barrier were huge. I have some video which I will post when I figure out how.





The Above video kind've goes like this: road, road, road, road, vague applause, bikebikebike, louder applause, car, car, road, Kate fumbling with the camera. I don't know why SBS hasn't hired me as their girl on the ground.

Post Tour - went home, got changed, met up with Wayne and crew in Brick Lane for some Indian food where hte service was appalling, even by London standards. My favourite part was where they tried to give us dirty plates because they'd picked up the wrong pile. Deligthful. But it was a pretty fun night. The cool bit about Brick Lane is that in order to walk there you have to walk past the scene of some of Jack the Ripper's crimes, and the pub where 'Lock Stock' was shot. Just so you know.


DANIEL JOHNSTON (12th July)
Went and saw Ganiel Johnston play at Union Chapel in Islington last night. It was amazing. It is a real, live church.



And he was amazing. He was childlike and breakable. All I wanted to do was give him a big hug. He covered the Beatles (Hide Your Love Away) and he said he was going to make a joke, but last time he told it he got in trouble with his brother, mother and father and that since he only had two jokes, we'd have to wait. He was cute and mischeivious in his black and blue tracksuit. He was also remarkably confident and engaging.

His arms shook quite badly, and he was constanyl leaning on the mic - but it still blew your mind. After playing the first couple of songs on guitar/piano by himself, the muscial accompaniment was lef tto others. Much more muscial that way. And Daniel (weird familiarity) was able to concentrate of singing. He did a few songs with Neva Dinova which was awesome. I have quite a lot of video of this and if I figure out how to upload it, you can all enjoy my attempts to film and clap at the same time.



My favourite part of the evening? When he did his last song and he called it 'a wish for all of us' and then sung 'True Love Will Find You In The End'. It was pretty darned amazing. Even an old cynic like me was overwhlemed. Unsurprisingly, he got a standing ovation. He is such a dude. He looked so happy with himself through out the whole gig. He also said it was one of the best gigs they'd done this tour.

Incidentally, Marianne was meant to accompany me to this but she got stuck at work drinks (and by stuck, I mean drunk) and didn't make it. She should have scalped her 20 pound ticket for 50 quid, which is what the people on the sidewalk were willing to pay. Would have been worth every pent.

Anyway, this weekend I am resolved to do touristy things.

PS. Post writing all of htis, I have uploaded some stuff to YouTube so the I've added some video. I will upload DJ tomorrow as it is now 1.30am and I am tired beyond belief.

Brush Up Your Shakespeare

Went to my school reunion for old girls in London on Tuesday night. An interesting experience which culminated in my drinking beers with Jenny Ethell (aka. the woman who 'restructured me out of existence' aka fired me) and Dot in an English pub. It was nice to catch up with Dot - she seems happy in the UK (while missing the Australian weather, but then, don't we all?)

The reunion was okay, the venue was really cute and, perhaps most importantly, I think I have acquired some useful coping skills for my 10 year reunion. It involves drinking more, stalking the food platters and hiding from Alethea, which is pretty much what I did this time around as well.

Friday night I went and saw 'Othello' at the Globe. We had 5 quid standing tickets and, of course, it rained. However, Marianne and I had got there early and were right in front of the stage which meant that we we slightly sheltered from the elements. Thankfully. However, the unfortunte by product of being so close to the action was that every time the actors came near me I thought I was going to get whacked in the head with the swords that were very loosely attached to their waists. I was ducking and weaving all night.

The play itself was awesome, and the role of Iago was played by Tim McInnery (of Blackadder fame - Percy, Capt Darling etc). It was weird to see him play the evil bad guy.

Now, I am not sure how many of you are familar with the ending of Othello, but in summary: Othello kills his wife who he believes to have been unfaithul, Iago murders his wife for dobbing him in about manipulating Othello's jealousy, and Othello kills himself out of guilt ('One that loved not wisely, but too well'). So - there are 3 characters lying dead on a bed in the middle of the stage (which I always thought was farcical, but now realise is for staging reasons).

So - after this very melodramatic final scene ('This heavy act with heavy heart relate') everyone is kind've drepressed. The acting was amazing, you really felt for Othello, the fake stage blood looked almost real. THEN the cast came back on stage and started DANCING!! Not in a sad mournful way, but in a very upbeat and perky way that was emotionally confusing.

Yesterday, I caught up with Amy Thornicroft, who we met when she was a Gap girl. We hung out at a cool Morroccan restuarant for a while and then spent some time on the South Bank. It was fanatastic to see her again and any time spent on the South Bank is time well spent if you ask me. Also - seeing a man with trained budgies who sang a song that went 'I'm the budgie man, bu-budgie man, budgie man, the bloody budgie man' and then tried to get employed as an entertainer at children's parties, was definitely a high point.

Saturday night we went to a restuarant near Tottenham Court Road where they kindly served us cocktails in jugs. THEN I went and picked up Carly at Paddington. This because my new rule states - if you can't make new English friends - import the old Australian ones! Incidentally - it seemed unfair that she looked quite as together as she did given the length of her flight and the fact she was suffering from the flu. I made her get on a night bus to get home (too much of apain to catch a cab on a Saturday night) and left her to sleep until 3pm this afternoon. I then dragged her around today to make sure she was properly equipped for London (Oyster card, A-Z, phone, flu medication) and as I write this she has fallen asleep again.

Such is the life of a new arrival in London.

This is the sound of settling

People claim that they are reading my blog. Never are these claims proved true in the comments section, because everyone claims to be too scared/embarassed/whatever to actually get in there and show me the love. So for a couple of weeks there I got disheartened.

But I am back. With more observations on the workplace and London in general.

Firstly, I would like to discuss chivalry. I am known as a feminist, but no woman is going to say no if a man lets her out of the lift first, or holds a door open for her. Men over here are quite chivalrous, especially in the business district where I work. BUT come home time, when we are all piling on the tube, any semblence of civility is disgarded. Everyone for themself. Man, woman, small child with terminal cancer, all will be crushed under foot in the quest for a seat, or positioning that will later allow you to get a seat. I have learnt to use my free paper to block other's ability to sit in what I would claim as 'my' seat. I even have strategies about where to stand in order to later claim a seat and an ever changing internal discussion about whether it is better to take a leaning position on a 'wall' seat and give up on teh chance of a real seat, or to angle for the chance.

I will lean if I can get the leaning position at the beginning of my trip or at the very end. Anything in the middle - it's all about elbowing my way into the infrequently vacated chairs (everyone gets off at the same stop on the Jubilee line in the morning. It doesn't really go anywhere else but here).

Also - I would now like to mention what I (not very kindly) refer to as Banker Sluts. Friday night is as popular for drinks here as it is at home. I work in Canary Wharf - no one really lives here, it is just full of law firms, banks, finance companies etc. You get the idea. Men and women in suits. So for Friday night drinks 'casual' really refers to the fact that people may have taken their jacket and tie off. Anyway, about 7:30pm women with fake tan, chronically straightened hair, tattoos and tops that show most of their bras (back and front) arrive at the bar. They look out of place and completely different from the other women there who are well groomed, but in work outfits.

Their aim is obvious - pick up a banker/lawyer/man in suit. It is so transparent. I was even moved to say so, saying that they were so obvious no man would fall for it.

I gave men too much credit. Within minutes they were surrounded. I've never seen anything like it. Please don't bother trying to yell at me about judging other women and their choices (I can see mum preparing the takl already). The whole thing made me feel so ill I could barely breathe. Sorry.

It's meant to be summer and today I was wearing a scarf and heavy jacket.

UK Big Brother has started and the house is full of girls (and one boy) who want to marry footballers. Not the boy, obviously. There is even a Posh Spice look alike. You know, because we don't actually hae to endure Posh Spice EVERY DAY without having look alikes.

Went to the Globe last night and saw The Merchant of Venice. It was tops. The acting was pretty amazing, and for only £5. Admittedly, we chose to stand, but it was fine. Except for the fact that we were so close to the actors you got spit on. Or, in the case of one unlucky girl, vomitted on. So yes, it was a supremely cultural experience.

Last weekend I went to the Portabello Road Markets (fairly regular occurence - it's so close) but went into some vintage stores I had never been into before. The prices almost killed me. I don't care how old a dress is, it is SECOND HAND and therefore shouldn't cost £500. I kid you not. Kate Moss shops there apparently. And Posh Spice. Eck. Was meant to go bowling that night, but even at 12pm the line was around the block. So Marianne and I went home. And I had another in a long line of public transport 'quirks'.

Should also mention that I saw Spamalot last week and it was hilarious (despite the fact that I was in the nosebleed section with the little binoculars that you hire for 50p). The Lady of the Lake had an amazing voice. Such a diva. Although hearing 'Always Look on the Bright Side of Life' out of context was a little bit of a shock to the system.

So, basically what I am trying to say is that I live here now. I have settled in to the London life and I socialise and go out and work and abuse the tube system and moan about the weather the same as anybody else. Even when I am still at work at 7pm or I arrive early to make my group smoothies (don't ask, it makes no sense to me either). I am organising a sailing trip to Croatia and I am desperately trying to stretch my money as far as it will go. It may not sound exciting, but I love it.

Although I am yet to find as many funny, interesting, intelligent, argumentative people in London as I ever found at home. This disappoints me considerably.

You take a trip to the city lights, and take the long way home

I had the longest, most hilarious trip back from Cambridge last night.
I missed the train from Cambridge, ended up at the wrong station, waited 25 minutes for the last Circle Line train, only to have it stop at Edgware Road, 3 stops shy of home.

THEN I got on a night bus the wrong way because I was chatting to an Australian girl I met and was distracted. Ended up at Mornington Crescent Station, where Ally (Australian Girl) and I met Jacko, the thong wearing, AFL playing, phys ed teacher from Victoria who very kindly asked us if we would like to go back to his house for a drink.

It was 2am. We politely declined.

Waited 35 minutes for teh next bus, only to have it be the same bus we got off but just heading back to where we came from.

Found a man on the bus who complimented us on our Australian accents and claimed to be a market trader. He had a Tweety Bird tattoo.

In other news - Mark's birthday party in Cambridge was great. A BBQ in a backyard in England? Who would have thought. Great night, I even met some actual English people! Cambridge was pretty and full of posh kids who looked stereotypically Oxbridge. It's a pretty town, lots of lawn and I briefly watched a game of cricket. And some punting, which seems to provide weekend employment for all Cambridge students who are willing to wear boat shoes and rugby jumpers.

That is all.

Back on the Chain Gang

Hello Dear Readers

I would like to announce that I am now gainfully employed. Yes. Me. The person who for the last couple of months has done nothing but look at churches, galleries etc. has a job. Actually, I was offered a couple of jobs and, not being a person who really likes decisions, this almost caused me to stop breathing. Anyway - the end result. I will be working for (drum roll please)...

Bank of America.
As a paralegal.
In their liquid products division.
Fo anyone who was there during my commerce degree, this will come as a surprise.

It paid too much for me to not take it, even though the Partner at Clifford Chance knew HEAPS about Asterix, Bob Dylan and Eminem. He was so interesting. I think I am going to like being a lawyer. But I couldn't assume that everyday would be discussing illusions to 'The Odyssey' in Asterix. Ah well.

I shall excerpt the most embarassing part of the interview now:

Him: How do you feel about country sports?
Me: You mean like hockey? I lived in the country and played sports. Is that what you mean?
Him: I meant things like pheasent shooting.
Me: And fox hunting?
Him: Yes.
Me: (realising this was not a good time to bring up 7 years of vegetarianism, an aversion to blood sports and not realy being that sporty in general) I grew up in the country. I'm used to it.

Playing the country card. Classic.

Different worlds. Country sports? Man, pheasent shooting was so beyond what would ever enter my mind.

Anyway, hopefully I will start on Monday. And the pounds will roll in and I can Live the London Life. Yay!

Except for I just figured out how much tax I will be paying. So less of the London Life than expected.

But I was never contractually obliged to sleep with foreign businessmen, alright? And that is not nothing, that is something.

I have a room in a house. And no, I am not obliged to sleep with foreign businessmen which was basically the only pre-requisite I ended up having in the London housing market.

My room is small, but it is mine. It looks like this:

If you tilt your head you will notice the big window in my room and if you put your head really close to the screen you will see the charming white doona with flowers embroidered in it.

This is the lounge room:



And this is the kitchen:

The house is on quiet street, but is 100 meters from Kensington High Street. It's kind've like living in Highgate but bigger. 5 minute walk from 2 cinemas (one arthouse, one mainstream), grocery stores, tube station, vintage clothes stores and Portobello Rd Markets and 10 minutes walk to Hyde Park. Great location.

Living with a girl called Rebecca who is just lovely and is a New York native. She has the Black Books boxset, Bill Bailey on DVD and a copy of Withnail & I. As well as The Merchant of Venice (Al Pacino verion). So, a woman of excellent taste.

Not much else to report. Except that this morning I went to Primark and stood in a queue for a change room for 30 minutes. for 28 pounds I bought 6 pairs of socks, two pairs of tights, a jumper, a dress top, a work top and a skirt. Loving Primark. It is the only way I am going to be able to afford to clothe myself in London.

Also - if anyone can tell me how to rotate these photos - please comment and let me know. It's as annoying to me as it is for everybody else, I assure you! Also Rom - please note that I am blogging on a Tuesday for your distraction.

xxx