Working, Sigh

 

 

 

Kittens and The Rock

Fudge, sheep and Harry Potter – welcome to Bath

Don’t get cocky

It’s all swings and roundabouts. 

1. So you could’ve called it Monday. I refer to it as the day I gave myself a concussion by smashing my head into the sternum of a man I somehow didn’t see. After our bone jarring collision I ran in front of cars just to avoid the shame.

 
2. Reasons why I love the overground versus the tube:

 
#1 I am not a mole

 
#2 Being spooned while standing by men I don’t know is making me feel a bit hoe-ish

 
#3 The stairs. And the miles between platforms. And the stairs. And the miles between platforms. Oh did I mention the stairs? This is why no one in London wears heels. Or has prams. Or suitcases. Or is elderly.

 
#4  Shuttling down a tunnel somewhere deep under the earth removes all phone access and with it all ability to ignore each other in tight confines as is socially required. You just have to awkwardly look at the ears/chin/hands of the person across from you and spend 30 minutes trying to not accidentally make eye contact.

 
3. I met a witch. She must’ve been because somehow she whisked me into a store, slathered me in beauty products and got me to hand over too much cash, all with a smile on my face. It made me realise how heavily I had  been restricting my spending and that hey, sometimes it’s OK to buy goddamn expensive products that make you feel like a grown up for once to balance out the $2 turquoise nail polish on your hands.

 
4. But I still love a bargain and this week I bought a 9 pound scarf that makes me happy in a way that only something covered in neon pink stars can do.

 
5. I really must learn where a pound symbol is on my keyboard.

 
6. So it turns out the dark circles under my eyes are the result of my inability to properly remove make-up

 
7. My new reality TV addiction is MTV’s Are You the One? Twenty kids get thrown into a beach house with alcohol and a skimpy clothes only policy. Everyone needs to find their perfect match, as determined by computer testing, so they can all walk away with a million dollars. They all start dating each other, only to fall in love with the wrong people because um a computer can’t tell you who your perfect match is! The angst and drama is Shakespearean. I frickin love it.

 
8. I went on a Jack the Ripper tour. It’s amazing how you can hear about a horrific murder and then start talking about shoes immediately after while walking to the site of another horrific murder.

 
9. So you might be thinking hey Dale seems to be doing a lot of gallivanting around the city for someone who should be job hunting. Well you’d be right. And the reason is – I am no longer unemployed.

 
10. So just when I was feeling like a cocky so and so, I found out that my flat has fallen through. To say I am devastated is an understatement. House hunting has been insanely stressful for me. To start it again makes me feel actually nauseous. I have a newfound appreciation for coathangers. All I want is to put clothes on sweet sweet coathangers.

Getting Real

Current state: constant low level panic.

Four weeks in and not having to work now feels like unemployment rather than ‘getting settled’. I was never sure if I would actually end up in London. I’ve never felt a pull to this city the way I have to Paris or Stockholm. I often wonder if this will be just an in-between destination, on my way to my true new home. I do firmly believe you need to be somewhere long enough to get lost, find great coffee, meet great people, meet awful people, love a day at work, complain about a Monday, buy something you don’t need, eat something you shouldn’t, be alone and be in a crowd before you can make any judgement about whether you like living there. I’m a long way from knowing whether or not London is right for me but I’m curious to find out.

This week’s adventures include:

 
1. I don’t know where you can find affordable accommodation in London but I can tell you the top five places to buy drugs. Apparently “reasonably priced apartment” actually means “conveniently located next to crack den”.

 
2. My typical day looks like this: Six hours of house hunting, six hours of job hunting, five cups of coffee, three trips to Tesco to buy ALL the junk food, eight minutes regretting eating ALL the junkfood, and 10 minutes wondering if Blake Lively could be any hotter.

 
3. Every day I discover a typo moments after submitting a job application. I don’t bother to write ‘detail oriented’ on my cover letter anymore.

 
4. Realising that I have 196 job applications in my email from the last two years. This has made me gut wrenchingly sad and I remain utterly terrified that I won’t be able to get work here.

 
5. It turns out where I lack the ability to nail a job interview I more than make up for in flatshare applications. Those Color Run photos are so effective at making me look free-spirited and youthful! I am surprisingly good at convincing 20 year olds that I should live with them.

 
6. So house hunting has by far been the most distressing experience of moving here. I was bags packed, looking to move to Slovakia when the universe threw me a bone and I met a lovely girl with a clean apartment with rent that, well, isn’t affordable but hey welcome to London. She listed her interests as swing dancing, theatre, gin and Game of Thrones. Oh yes, I think we’ll get on very well.

 
7. As relieved as I was to land an apartment it made me ache for my house back home and wonder if I’ll be able to make memories in this new place like I have in the past.

 
8. Watching Sherlock is considered research right?

 
9. Apparently a lease doesn’t count as proof of address to a London bank… I know… Have resorted to bartering.

 
10. Am starting to wonder if I’ve spent too long not working. I’m beginning to enjoy wearing my pyjamas all day a whole lot.

Has it been three weeks or three months?

 
So I went on a dungeon tour of London – otherwise known as “house hunting”.
 
1. House hunting in London looks like this:
 
Search 1 (Otherwise known as naive optimism): Safe area, close to tube lines in zones 1 or 2, nice flat mates, decent sized room.
 
Search 2 (Otherwise known as getting a bit wiser): Safe area, close to tube lines in zone 3, less than 6 flat mates, small room.
 
Search 3 (Otherwise known as high level panic sets in): Average to high crime rate, zone 4, less than 8 flat mates, has a bed.
 
Search 4 (Otherwise known as jaded, hardened Londoner): Commute from Manchester, live with old Russian lady, will live on packet soup to afford rent.
 
2. I’ve had multiple responses to this dilemma. I toss between throwing all the money I have at the problem and trying to be OK with wearing thongs in a shower I share with 9 other people. Maybe this is why you’re meant to move to London when you’re 23.
 
3. Other observations about London houses include: Who knew a living room was a luxury? Alcohol bottles and flags make for popular home décor. Again, the need to be 23.
 
4. I did visit an actual dungeon – The Tower of London. Figured it was about time I went inside a London attraction rather than circling them all the time. I was particularly lucky to stumble onto it during the incredible poppy installation Blood Swept Lands and Seas of Red. The history and magnificence of the Tower was astonishing and yes I did imagine a pouty Jonathan Rhys Meyers from The Tudors whenever Henry VIII was mentioned.
 
5. There is now more Nutella in my system that water.
 
6. Reality TV has reached new lows (or is it highs?) in the UK with Gogglebox, a TV show where you watch people watching TV. No, I’m not kidding.
 
7. Decided I was going to be one of those cool girls that takes her laptop to a cafe. Found cafe, ordered food, realised I didn’t bother to check if there was wi-fi. There wasn’t. Considered fleeing before the food came. Sheepishly ate my meal and trundled to the next cafe. Pulled out my laptop bag which has also somehow been doubling as my laundry bag. Dropped several pairs of underwear out on the floor in the middle of cafe. Considered fleeing. Sheepishly drank my coffee and left. Might stay at home to work from now on.
 
8. I’m really excited to be catching up with friends of friends. It’s remarkable how much you have in common with a stranger just via your shared experience of moving across the world. I highly recommend it.
 
9. Still don’t have a bank account.
 
10. Wake up at 3.30am every night like clock work and read all my emails and messages which have arrived on Sydney time.
 
11. So determined to get over this scary hump and start relaxing into London life. Every day I wonder if I made the right decision and worry that I’ll have to book a flight back. No doubt I’ll probably continue to do so until I have a job and somewhere to live but I’m utterly aware of how privileged I am to be here and am grateful every day for the opportunity.

Suddenly powerpoints become a thing you care about

It has been two weeks since I landed in London. It feels like no time and all the time has passed. I swing between buckets of tears and jaw dropping awe on a daily basis. I feel homesick and overwhelmed, inspired and thrilled, naive and wondrous all at once. Here are some of my observations of life so far. 
 

1. Got vomited on in a tube elevator – London be gangster with its initiation.

2. My hair loves London, my thighs do not.

3. Every restaurant I go to feels small. With clumsy hands and substandard table manners I manage to knock over something at every meal, usually red wine.

4. On a daily basis my thought process is something like this: “I’m never getting a job, I’m never getting an apartment, I need to book flights home, ooooohhhh squirrels, I love it, I’m never leaving.”

5. Am currently obsessed with supermarkets. Go to at least three on a daily basis. Everything is pre-made. I already see a future in which I never use a chopping board again.

6. Am mastering some high level willpower not to enter H&M, Topshop or Zara until I have a job.

7. Failed to master high level willpower and did enter H&M, Topshop and Zara only to find that actually I’m all stocked up on sequins and crop tops for now thanks.

8. I have found my flat shoe homeland. No one wears high heels at all, ever, for anything. I feel like I could go to a job interview in sneakers.

9. Considering I also speak English, I can’t seem to pronounce anything correctly: Marylebone? Holborn? Southwark?

10. I’d never really considered powerpoints before. With only one UK power adaptor I play Russian roulette with my laptop, phone and electric toothbrush about what gets charged. I’ll let you guess which one misses out.

11. Brutal realisations include: I was on a good salary at home. As someone who has considered herself underpaid for most of her career, and was planning on getting ahead in London, this has somewhat dented my optimism. I think I’ve just defined naivety.

12. Can’t get a phone plan without a bank account. Can’t get a bank account without an address. Can’t get an address without a job. Must get job!

13. I jog now. Actually to clarify, I have done some jogging since I got here. I feel freer and more optimistic when I run than any other time. Possibilities seem to unfold.

An ode to beds

I gave away my bed (aka the beginning). 
 

I hadn’t ever thought that much about it, until I realised it was the most permanent, constant material object in my life. I’ve fallen in love on that bed, I quit my first job on that bed (and my second), I’ve sobbed from rejection and disappointment and fear on that bed, I dreamed of being a writer on that bed, I decided to move to London on that bed. It’s cumbersome and heavy. Every time I dismantle it and put it back together, it’s a little less stable than before. I’ve taken it apart and built it again in nine apartments.
 
I bought it with my mum in my second year of university when I moved into my first off campus apartment. It felt expensive and adult. It was the first thing I ever really owned; the first thing I’ve had to consider in my life, something that I had to take with me, a tether. In letting it go, I made a pact with myself to be OK with floating and seeing where I would end up. I have since slept in beds that were lovingly made on floors and couches and under thick, starched sheets in a Bali resort and tangled in blankets with unruly kittens. In all these borrowed beds, I am somewhere between where I was and and where I’m going. And for now, I’m excited about all this air around me.

Photo: Isabella Thorsden