Alone

For the first time in god knows how long, I'm home alone. I can hardly believe it. In almost three years in living in London, this will probably be the first time it has ever happened. How bizarre is that? There are no housemates to be heard, nothing but me and my soup (homemade vegetable by the way) boiling on the stove. It's not bad, not good, just strange.

When I first moved out of home seven years ago, I lived by myself. Looking back, it was kind of a ballsy thing to do. Let's take a moment to pat the 21 year old Vanessa on the back. Ok, back to the story. The thing is, I loved living on my own. I would definitely put it in the box labeled 'good decisions I've made'. I think the ability to live by yourself and enjoy your own company is one of those important life skills schools threaten to give you, but never do. Home Economics? Yea, I make gingerbread houses all the time. Algebra? Yep, I often check the trajectory of the ball while playing table tennis. Actually, for that last sentence to be accurate I would have had to understand algebra first before applying it to ball sports.

Since my first stint, I've lived with various people, again, another great life skill. For someone who is as intolerant as me, I got to practice restraint and emotional internalisation. Both fine life lessons. Sure, when one of your housemates is pissing you off, sticking your finger up to the wall with the door closed is both a mature and effective way to deal with the situation.

So now, here, at home alone in London, it's a bit strange. We have no tv and I have no book I want to read. I've made soup and entertained the thought of making some biscuits. So I write in my blog and this is good, perhaps I'll even write a story, but it won't stop that slight lingering feeling of loneliness and tiny feeling of homesickness that I've felt all day. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, it sucks. Today was another day of work, of gloves, a cold nose, of talking to my friends and family on the internet rather than in person and another birthday I missed. My only two friends in the city aren't here and if it was any other day, I wouldn't even be bothered by any of this. It's just one of those days I guess. Listening to Ben Lee's more depressing stuff probably isn't helping either.

It is nice having time alone, just strange when you haven't had it in a while.

New wood

For all of you (like how I've made it seem like I have a stampede of readers?) who receive email updates/subscribe to bloglines etc, go onto my site to check me out. Changes courtesy of LP.

28 things to do before 29

Yeah, I'm about three months late..

1. Go to Chagford
2. Make some new friends
3. Have a dinner party
4. Make more plans
5. Read the news more often
6. File my life better
7. Visit Australia with Luke
8. Stop buying shit books on Amazon
9. Get a new job
10. Make really good curry from scratch
11. Get an article printed
12. Do a course
13. Be more financially aware
14. Visit Teresa in Italy
15. Eat at more top restaurants in London
16. Try and do something from Time Out once a fortnight
17. Make more of an effort in general
18. Go to the Cotswolds
19. Visit Rani in the Dam
20. Read more
21. Throw as I go
22. Find some glasses that suit me and maybe wear them more often
23. Better document things I do in London and on my travels
24. Stop over eating
25. Make sushi
26. Try and find a new talent
27. Go to more talks
28. Re read my work and be more disciplined

Me, right now

I'm a bus person.
I'm someone who gets free furniture off the web.
I'm embracing the constant urge to put things away.
I'm a bed maker (well, only once).
I'm a bulk buyer.
I'm a leader in lunch preparation.


I love my new place, although it still feels like I'm on holiday. It's shiny and clean, although I'm not sure how long that will last. It doesn't have that lived in feeling yet, but it will. Probably when I stop putting my clothes back on the hangers. Yeah, the novelty will wear off soon. I give myself a week.

You know, I have no idea how I accumulated so much stuff. I don't buy that many clothes, nor do I hoard. You'd think I would have learned my lesson after packing up in Adelaide and then again in London. But no. I've had to throw away numerous bags of shit as well as infiltrate Luke's storage section, and by section, I mean the 1/4 space I left for him under the bed. Never again I have sworn to myself. I will throw something out to every new dress I buy. I will stay away from the shops and never accept free books or shoes. I will stay strong and minimalistic. Roar.

This weekend I can't wait to do some exploring, there are local farmers markets, cute breakfast places and museums to see. I can't wait! Oh and fireworks on Saturday night at Victoria Park for Guy Fawkes. I might even bake something, yes, I am a stranger walking in slanty eyes' body. Having said that, I uncharacteristically sewed on some buttons on the weekend. Rest assured, I have not been entirely taken over by an alien force as my key traits of laziness and cutting corners still exist. To explain, I had been wearing jackets with an average of three missing buttons for the past year. I bought a sewing kit 11 months ago. In my fit of domestication, I decided to sew a green button on with blue thread and because I couldn't find any spares, ripping off buttons from the jacket sleeves to replace the missing ones on the front. Not quite Martha Stewart. Maybe more like Martha when she was in jail.