I love London moments

Every so often I have I love London moments. Well, at least that's what I decided I would call them about 15 seconds ago when I thought I needed to write a blog entry that didn't revolve entirely around food*.

So life is normal here. It's like living in Adelaide except people scowl more, I spend way too much time on public transport playing a game I like to call 'Who is a potential serial killer' and always forgetting to bring one of the following when I go out: London A-Z, umbrella, gloves, scarf. But in the midst of going about everyday life, I love it when the true gems of how cool it is to live in a city such as this one randomly appear.

For example, today I hung out in east London. I don't think there is anywhere else in the world where there are so many varied people, cultures, beliefs, sexual preferences, fashion trends, foods, interests in one city. It's truly amazing. For everything that is wrong with this place, there are hundreds of things that are right, interesting and dare I say it, kind of wonderful . Mostly, they are small in significance, but are so validating when every so often you wonder why you would choose to come and live on the opposite side of the world away from your family, friends and BBQ City**.

This afternoon I spent the afternoon eating and wandering and then eating some more. For lunch Vic and I shared a red pumpkin curry amongst people who were playing a backgammon type game on little tables set up in between the eating benches. This crucial lunch decision was only made after at least half an hour deliberating between the Japanese omelet, pad thai, Ethiopian, Caribbean, vegetarian and Chinese. We then kept going past Brick Lane to this amazing bagel place with a line out to the street. After stuffing our faces with a cream cheese and cream cheese and smoked salmon bagel, we went to the flower markets where we got three bunches of tulips for £5 and on the way back, stopped into a vintage kitchenware store who were serving free tea and coffee. When does that ever happen? Especially in London! Maybe this doesn't sound so wonderful to you, or interesting, or exciting, but it was just one of those simple days where life is good and you are happy. Or perhaps I've been spending too much time on the tube sitting next to people whose breath smells like manure and am starting to appreciate the simple pleasures a little too much.

*By the way, food is mentioned, but only in context to the story.
**BBQ City doesn't count as a food reference as it is in relation to matters of the heart

Not signature, but still a scribble

So today I was:

1. Photographed
2. Praised like the slow child in the class who had finally learned how to tie her shoelaces at aged 12 when....

I cooked dinner tonight.

Not signature but still, the flatties were impressed. Probably not with the creation, but more at the fact that I wasn't eating oatcakes for dinner and I was actually frying something.

Dinner was (insert a very impressive drum roll, perhaps royal like)

Seared salmon fillet sauteed with honey, various sauces dans le cupboard and guacamole dip. Served on a bed of baby spinach, vintage (slightly off) tomato, roasted capsicum (ok, it was roasted) and julienne style cucumber. Finished with a drizzle of lime and seasoned with cracked pepper.

The praise of the aroma and presentation were showered upon me by the boys.

Now they are suspicious of my 'new found' abilities and I'm thinking I won't get their leftovers anymore. Boo.

Greatness update

Breakfast: yoghurt and museli (duh, would I have anything else?)

Mid morning snack: boring, not worth writing about

Lunch: smoothie, soup (important lesson learned: 3 cans for 70p = GROSS), toast with honey, muller rice - apple flavour (best rice pudding creation ever), rice cakes, apple

Afternoon snack: too busy presenting work. Yes, I am very, very important. Actually, while I am talking about my importance I'd like to highlight my lack of volume control while talking due to blocked ears as well as sounding like a man. A nasally man. Like I said, important high flyer. Ok, I know I didn't say high flyer before but that's because I only just thought of it then.

Dinner: miso soup, hommus and bean dip with various items from the fridge, oatcakes with honey, yoghurt with honey, some Italian biscuit thing dipped in honey, more oatcakes.

I went a little crazy tonight because I found Aussie honey at the supermarket.

I need a signature dish NOW so I can at least add it in the mix of dairy, honey and oatcakes in my diet.

Signature dish

So I've decided I need a signature dish. You know, one that you know off by heart and can just whip it up when the need arises.

Scenario: dinner party and the host forgot to make a dessert.

Host: "Oh my god, I'm such a bad host, I forgot to make a dessert!"

Me: "Don't worry about it [insert name of host], I can make us a [insert signature dish] in no time."

Host: "That would be great. Thank god I invited you. And here I was thinking you were just one of those people who come to dinner parties, never return the invitation and always have thirds."

Me: "Pfffft, that was so 2007. I now cook and have a signature dish."

I'm thinking that sticky date pudding could be it. Ok, I've made it once. But it was good that one time. Can you claim a signature dish from a one time making? Can you claim a dessert? It's not very useful other than made up scenarios like the one above. I think I need a main dish. Perhaps some kind of green thai curry or something with asparagus. Or fennel. Wait, I don't really like fennel. Leek?

I feel I have the potential to be impressive. Not in a high school report card 'impressive but never applies herself' kind of way, more like, that's the best leak curry I've ever had, shit Vanessa can cook.

I'm going to surf for recipes now.

Please hold for culinary greatness...

Amendment

Obviously I don't want to ride in a hose and carriage. It's probably not that romantic and probably more dirty than anything else. Great. I've ruined my one girly fantasy by making it dirty. Even the word fantasy is dirty now. Sigh. It was late. My brain has a dysfunctional relationship with my fingers. I am an idiot. But I'm keeping it in there for everyone's amusement.

2008. The Year of predictive text.

Yes, I am embracing all things new in 2008. Starting with predictive text. My attitude towards predictive text was originally similar to my initial attitude towards pointy shoes: ugh, yuck, ugly, why bother, you look like a witch. Then, after 5 years of scorn and missing the cool shoe boat completely, I give them a crack and decide they are actually ok. This is now me with predictive text. Previous attitude: ugh, why bother, spell words out yourself dammit and this is another example of laziness in our obessesed with saving time society. Clearly I should spend less time thinking about unimportant things in 2008.

Hmmm, I might start thinking about fiscal responsibility and 5 year plans.

Mmmm, speaking of plan, that rhymes with flan and I saw the best looking one in a window of a bakery in Amsterdam on the weekend.

Where was I?

Ok, I realise it's just predictive text and I'm not making the world a better place or preventing my late life onset obesity for when my metabolism truly dies from eating apple pie for dinner (last night) by promising to go to the gym in 2008, but this is a big thing for me, hence the announcement of its introduction to my life.

Onto other things. After being stopped at the airport by the security frisk lady and questioned about my age i.e how old are you, I was looking around for your parents, I've decided I may boost the maturity levels too this year. Now, don't get me wrong, being mistaken for a 17 year old is nice, but I feel like I get more and more immature as I get older. Seriously, I was way more mature when I was 18. Now, I am about 12 and wearing a trainer bra. Ha, wait, I'm still wearing one. I'm not sure how I go about this 'I am mature hear me roar' thing, perhaps having a competition with your housemates as to who knows the most swear words in different languages (me - hands down.....pfft amateurs) is not a good start. But really, is it ok to be 40 and still laugh at poo jokes? It's scary that according to society/sister precedent/nature I am suppose to be nesting and listening to the faint tick of 30 and it's freaking me out. I haven't even begun to gather the twigs and you know what, I don't want to. I'd rather stick marshmellows on my twigs and toast them over the fire. Hmm, is this some kind of metaphor for my choosing fun over the bur(n!)den (ha - burnden!) of financial responsibility and life stability. Perhaps, and I am so ok with that.

This weekend I enjoyed more marshmellow and went to Amsterdam. God, I love that place. I could happily live there. There's something about the place, the people, it just fits with me. The weekend was relaxing and believe it or not, Megan and I were still sick for most of it. But we managed to eat, drink and shop ok. Thank god.

This Thursday Megan and I are off to Vienna and then Salzburg and I can't wait. Finally, my girly fantasy of riding in a hose and carriage will come true and I will be able to gorge in all things apple and sausage.

Maybe I should go to bed now and actually get to work on time tomorrow, cause that would be, you know, mature.

Ugh, again with the too much funess

I'm sick again. Damn snow. Well, probably damn the too much fun in the snow part but let's not dwell on the details and throw a little sympathy my way for I cannot swallow or breathe and I really need to go to sleep because a. I didn't get enough sleep last night and had to be up at 515am to catch a plane which would end up being delayed by 3 hours and b. it's NYE tomorrow night and I have some partying to do. Oh, and I also want to go shopping. Airborne germs are really messing with my social life and capacity for tolerating phlegm.

Ok, so being the ski bunny I am, I have just got back from the snow. Oooh, it sounds sooo European. If only I was as graceful at skiing as I am at, um, eating ice cream? Stepping over cracks in the pavement? Hmm, so point is, I am probably the most unco skier in the world. Pascal, my ski instructor, said I looked like an aeroplane taking off for Sydney whilst going down the slopes. That's what you get for trying to put technique into practice. Ridicule.

So let's go back to the first day at the snow. Megan and I are there, primed in our ski gear, minds like sponges ready to be turned into pro skiers by a preferably hot French ski instructor (note to self, next time try snowboarding)to be told our lesson isn't til the afternoon. So being the proactive person she is, Megan decides that we should play around on our skis for a bit. I agree thinking we'll put them on and do some gliding around on the flat bits. So we do that for oh, all of 5 seconds before she suggests we should catch one of the chairlifts to the 'beginner' slopes. Yes, great idea to do that when you were too scared to slide down the slight bump in the flat bit earlier. So Vanessa decides the slope doesn't look too high from the bottom and really, how hard can a bit of skiing be, so she agrees to go up there. By the way, I don't know why I am now referring to myself in the 3rd person but let's go with it. So we go up the chairlifts (I am on one by myself) when I realise I don't know how to get off the bloody thing. The dude next to me senses this, and pushes me off it. I don't know how to stop, so I lose my balance, cross my skis and stop by falling flat on my back and hitting my head. Great start.

So after this minor blip, I make my way to the edge of the slope. The very steep edge that didn't look steep because I couldn't bloody see it from the bottom. So I take a deep breath, watch Megan stack it and hope that some of the Winter Olympic watching I've done in the past will pay off. It doesn't. I stack in about 5 seconds after take off. I try to get up. I fall over. I try again. Fall over once more, this time so my skis are all twisted. I lie back in the snow wondering how I am going to untwist my skis and if a helicopter will have to come and get me down. While I am debating how long I can lay in the middle of the slope, a snowboarder comes and asks if I want a hand. Ummmm, duh. So I managed to pull him over three times while trying to get up, then he slides me down the mountain onto a flatter bit. In the process he tells me it's his first day snowboarding. Ha, don't I feel like a dickhead. So anyway, he leaves me standing closer to the bottom and as soon as he leaves, I fall again. This time I manage to get up on my own and make my way to the bottom and tell Megan I am never doing that again and we are waiting until our lesson.

I won't bore you so I will give you some dot points until another interesting story:

- the weather was fantastic, blue skies everyday, not too cold
- food was great, I became obsessed with ham
- my ski instructor thought I spoke fantastic French, ok, so he said very good, but I think they are the same. He even spoke to me in French when I kept on falling down one day during my lesson. I didn't really get what he was saying, something about falling on purpose but I was flattered he thought I did.
- xmas day was great. There was about 700 of us up there and we all went to the top of one of the mountains for a santa run down the slopes in our santa hats (note I didn't participate due to having only 1 lesson and hadn't learned how to turn at that point)
- got up on stage and did air guitar in a matching red wig with Megan at the retro party
- made the most hideous looking snowman, we didn't realise there was a technique to making these things
- lost control during a lesson and accidentally groped one of the girls while trying to stop
- did snow angels in the snow with Megan (may have been the turning point in the catching of illness)

Final story is of my final day skiing where I had a spectacular stack. Yes, the skis fell off, snow went in my mouth, skis hit the thigh, there was skidding, turning and wincing on Megan's behalf who was watching. I had previously been congratulating myself on my beautiful turns (Pascal said skiing is all in the mind so I was building up my mind power cause that's what sports people do) when I went too fast, thought I was going to go over the mountain so I decided I would take one for the team. Smart yet bruisy decision.

So now I am back in London trying to get better so I can go out tomorrow night. I can almost breathe through my nose so that's a good indicator I should try and sleep.

Night and see you in 2008!

So obviously I've been having a little too much fun

Ok, it's been way too long since I last updated. And you know what? I can't remember what I've ben doing. Of course it's going to come rushing back to me once I've logged off and shut down my computer, so I'll do my best in my post flu state. Seeing as though I am getting old I must do some complaining about the flu I just had. It was the worst flu I've ever had. Ummm, that's about it because I've just been distracted remembering what I've been doing lately.

So, I went away to Winchester and stayed in the most beautiful country manor. Yes, la di da to me. I finally got to enjoy a perk as a creative and was taken away for a day and night (during work) with Sony for some quad biking, rope swinging and night of drinking and sleeping in the English countryside. The manor was a 5 star hotel and was sooooo grand. Breakfast was held in the most exquisite library with huge bay windows and dark wooden bookshelves. It was amazing. The buffet breakfast also helped with my extremely high impression of the place. I also had a team lunch overlooking the Thames at a rather fancy restaurant. Entree and main were nothing to rate a claim of 'best ever' in the Vanessa food stakes but the dessert was probably the best crumble I've ever had. It was delectable.

I also went very festive and went to some Christmas Markets in Lincoln. Now, the thought was there to be all festive and whatever, but seriously, when it's pissing down with rain and you've never been so cold in your life, the cheer dies and you look for the closest pub. Lincoln was beautiful, despite the rain and hoards of old people. I left wondering why I had gotten up at 5am on a Saturday morning but somewhat pleased with my yule tide efforts.

Friday I had another team day out which involved a flotation tank. Yes, it's a little 90's. No, it's not my idea of relaxation, but I was happy to try it. So imagine me naked (well, actually, don't), in a egg shaped pod listen to some whales mate with a porn red light on. Got it? Ok, so after trying to 'float and relax' I hit my head on the tap realising I was floating the wrong way around. Having messed up my 'free mind state' I get tank (salt) water in my eyes and find myself desperately grabbing around for the emergency water bottle. In the process of using the jet function in my eyes (I'm not sure which hurt more) I get more salt water in my eyes. I realise I didn't bring any make up with me and I now look like a panda and have to face my team (5 blokes) for the rest of the team night out. So I get out of the pod and look for a mirror to try and wipe my eyes. Can't find one. Get back in the pod - right way round. Decide to try and relax. Change mind and decide to open pod door again to see what the time is. Bump head on stupid pod door. Have only wasted ten minutes. Have 40 minutes left. Get back in pod. Close pod door. Lay down and start pushing myself from side to side in the pod. This is fun. Do this for about 15-20 minutes. Then decide to try flipping over onto stomach without getting salt water in eyes again. Not the best idea. Decide to try and relax. Start thinking head is very heavy in supposedly easy to float nil gravity water. Must have a lot of brains. Try to relax again. Find relaxing position of legs crossed and arms folded above head. Almost alseep when wales start mating again and it's time to get out.

So I don't think I'll do that again.

Ok, gotta go to bed, if I don't get to write again before next year, pray I don't break any bones skiing in France and I don't get hypothermia.

Wind chill -40. I'd just like to remind everyone that I sit at work which is heated with a blanket around me. I may not leave my room.

Why thy loves himself a little too much

Let's face it. I work in a really wanky industry. Up until now I've been pretty lucky with tosser levels registering low. Extremely low in fact. Now, let's not get confused with maroon jumper dude and yes, he still bugs me. Let's just recap why. Rather than him being a wanker as such, he's just a knob. It's the fact he stares at me blankly when I fake smile at him and say 'hey' when crossing paths (I now just stare him out - soooooo much more satisfying), his gross maroon cable knit jumper, his Bevis-like snigger and his pondering into the air (puh-lease). Even his purchases of Doritos every lunch bugs me. Ok, ok, that one is a bit petty, but I think it's the combination of too many red colours (head, jumper and chip packet) that messes with my senses.

So, back to the real tosser. He can't go five minutes without some kind of self gratification. For example, and I'm not exaggerating, well, he might be, and I quote word for word; 'I can't not do brilliant work'. He even described himself as being 'the radar' in advertising. If he's the radar, I'm definitely the perforated paper (the bit you throw away)when you get a stats print out. I don't quite know what that means, but I liked the analogy. It's hanging out with people like him that make me realise I'm never going to go far doing this job. Well, my lack of enthusiasm may be a good indication, but I know I'm certainly never work at one of the grand dame agencies. I think I'd probably have to start wearing a beret, change my name just V and maybe up my perforated paper analogy to at least blip on the radar status. The dude isn't that bad, but I work in a fairly egoless place, and when you get exposed to one, it's like staring at the water when it's a sunny day and you've forgotten your sunglasses.

Ugh, I need some direction. No, I need to be paid to faff.

Also, I put together my list of future travel places today. It's rather extensive. It means a lot of zigzagging around countries. It also means finding a lot more money. I like how I use the word 'find' like I have a chest full of money under my bed. Perhaps 'earn' would be better. Or 'win the lottery'. I'll share my list when it's more complete.

It's nice having a blog but...

where do you draw the line in regards to who you tell about it? For example, I had one of those scary big brother moments today at work. Hypothetically speaking I wanted to download a certain music program onto my work computer. Now, working in a slightly more strict/professional organisation than my last place, such 'illegal' (and I use that term loosely) aren't allowed. So I decided to be tricky and pretended I wanted to know my admin password for updating software. Yea, that backfired and now I have 50 new programs I don't want, but the point of this story is that IT logged onto my computer and started fiddling around this stuff, that also included spotting the music program I had tried to download. In true Vanessa 'I can't lie' style, I started stumbling over my words when he questioned me. His line of questioning, by the way, was using my cursor to circle it in a disapproving matter while we were on the phone. He couldn't even bring himself to say the name of the program aloud. Plus, I had written my entry about mental health day on one of my work word docs and realised that was on my desktop. Whoops. Now, this story is slightly long winded, but the point of it is, when you want to do tricky things, or in my blogs instance talks about chucking sickies or talking about people who you work with who tend to wear maroon jumpers and 'ponder' a lot, it kind of limits who you give it to. Especially when people ask.

Maybe I've just answered my question, don't let people I work with see my blog.

Now, that I've solved my own dilemma, I should really get my own talk show.

In other news, I had a work thing last night that involved me being wrestled over a sofa by a 45 kilo chav chick from Essex and then beer poured all over me. The thing about London is, you go hard and then you go home. You had to make that vital decision, do I catch the last tube home or do I keep going and hope to make it home. With my sense of direction and tendency to walk with my keys in my hand ready to stab (I have recently found out this is not an effective form of self defense) I choose the tube option.

In food news a really good restaurant thingy has opened up near work:

www.leonrestaurants.co.uk

I had it for lunch yesterday and today. Reasons why? Good food - tick and it appealed to by Asian 'I seek any good bargain' side as the food was all half price. Yesterday chili con carne (people here do not know how to pronounce this dish) and today, Leon Gobi followed by a Twix. Then I had a brownie explosion and then hot chips before going to see one of my favourite movies of all time. Yes, I have something to contribute to my stark/non existent favourite movies list; The Darjeeling Limited.

Ok, I'm tired. Bye.

Friggin domestic goddess

I would just you all to know that I made an amazing curry thing the other night. Flatties even said it 'smelt good'. Yea, go me. I even put fresh coriander in it. Did you hear that? Fresh. Oh, and garemasala or however you spell it. Perhaps a little too much though as someone at work today said whatever was in the microwave (my lunch) smelt like a mince pie. However, I'm sure it was probably the best non mince pie they had ever smelt.

That's it.

I do not earn enough money

So today was mental health day. Well, my mental health day. It's amazing what people get up to while you're at work. Like do lunch. Go shopping. Not get told that a line in your copy sounds too much like a song? What the? And you do you know what the greatest thing is about living in London? When you take a sickie, you'd be pretty unlucky to bump into someone you work with.

So today I had a bit of a sleep in, did my washing, took it to the laundromat (hello new soft Primark sheets), met Skinner for lunch....have I mentioned my favourite lunch place in London? Food for Thought. Best bread EVER. Seriously, it's so good. Soft on the inside and so crunchy on the outside. It's almost the equivalent of the satisfying taste of the crunchy outer of a freshly baked brownie, mmmm, brownie. Anyway, so today's flavour was onion, not as good as walnut and sage, but still, oh so satisfying. Where was I? Oh yes, lunch. So then after debating whether we should get a brownie we decided we would wait for afternoon tea, but then I realised that Ben's Cookies was just near where we were, and seriously, who can resist a biscuit with melted chocolate on the inside? Not me, that's for sure. So we made a pit stop there on the way to the British Museum where we were going to check out the Terracotta Warriors. Despite having the conversation as to whether we should book, we didn't and discovered that following through on conversations about booking for exhibitions in London is smart. We unfortunately were not. So we settled for mummies and what not, and then decided the V&A would be a better bet.

On the way we stopped at Harrods for what should have been the best hot chocolate ever, especially seeing as though it was £5, but it was, unfortunately, crap. We got over this slight blip in an otherwise good food day by walking through Harrods food court, and then headed to the V&A. After looking around there for a bit and seeing a really old and big Persian rug (yes, this is the only thing which really stands out from the visit) I went to the gym and then off to Kate and Jonathon’s for a roast dinner and biscuits (provided by yours truly). Why work?

New house, frozen nose. We can't have it all.

Stubborness is a curse. It causes you to do stupid things like decide it’s a good idea to move house in London on your own. Actually, moving house on your own is a stupid idea no matter what the location. Especially when it doesn’t involve a car. So instead of accepting the help of others, I moved myself, dragging the masses of crap I’ve accumulated over the last 7 months down the street to my new abode (which is awesome by the way).

Do you know what is also a curse? The cold. The kind of cold that freezes your nose at night and causes you to lie there with your duvet over your head, but with a little peep hole so you have fresh air. This whole process is difficult to perfect and uncomfortable. I know this won’t make a lot of sense to some of you, but the cold here chills your bones. And it’s not even winter. Prepare yourself for more complaining. On the upside, my new mattress is a lot more comfortable. So much so, I can roll over and not have springs stab me in the back. Woohoo! I’m liking my new housemates. I feel I can talk about midgets freely without feeling like I am going to be judged. Especially seeing as though there is a blow up doll in our kitchen.

In other news, I’ve bit the bullet and bought a zone 3 travelcard. I’ve been fooling myself for the last 7 months that I live in zone 2, when in fact, I don’t. And it’s too cold to be playing ‘I live in zone 2’ games i.e walking 20minutes. So now, it’s more of a 5 minute walk, which I think is worth the extra £5 a week.

This weekend is going to be jam packed again. Ok, so when is it not. But I may even get to squeeze in some tv!! Yay! Hello mind numbing goodness. I’m worried I’m going to have to start cooking at my new house. The guys were cooking something with prawns last night which looked really good. It was making me feel inadequate and I am more of an ‘eater’ than a ‘creator’. I may have to bring out the culinary skills. Wa-cha! (that was culinary karate).

The feet have touchdown

So when it rains, it pours, and this is definitely the case with the house situation.

During the week there were various developments starting with:

- me having a record breaking week in flat visitation
- a guy from work offering me a room at his flat
- me meeting a potential new houseshare group and being successfully 'chosen'
- seeing more houses for backup

So as a result, I accepted the new flatshare after being labeled a chosen one. However, there were a few problems. Firstly, it wasn't furnished, I couldn't move in for a month and I didn't really like the girl. Yes, slightly big problems, but I was desperate and said yes anyway. So last night I went and saw the house with these people. It was nice, in Angel (beautiful area in North London) and it would have ended up being reasonably cheap because one of the guys' partner was going to move down next year. However, it still left the problem of it being unfurnished and me being homeless for a month. So, I arranged back up flat visits later that night. The first was a house just down the road from where I live now. I went and met the flatties and we all hit it off immediately. The house was nice, fully furnished, I could move in straight away and it even comes with a TV!! I stayed for a cup of tea - they are all english so my tea consumption is going to rise even more. I didn't even go to the other place I had arranged to visit after because by the time I walked in my front door I had a message asking me to move in! So today I let the other people know I wasn't going to move in, which was incidentally lucky because now one of the housemates is hitting on me. Plus, adding to the rain count I got a message from another backup asking me to move in too! Ah, I love it when things work out.

So now I am de stressed and rather peppy. I am looking forward to cleaning the mould off all the walls in my old house this weekend before moving in somewhere with carpet and hopefully a flushing toilet. I am so moving up in the world. Although, my room is next to the toilet again. Is there a pattern here?

Today I said goodbye to Cassie by way of high tea at Shipps Tearoom. This place is so cute with tea cups hanging down from the ceiling, 40's style chairs and table cloths and the most delicious range of cakes, tarts and slices. We feasted on scones with clotted cream and home made jams, cucumber, cheese, smoked salmon and ham sandwiches as well as orange pekoe tea, a slice of pear tart as well as lemon drizzle cake. It was very grand. However, I now want to vomit.

This weekend is the last for Weir Road which will be a bit sad as it's kind of the end of a chapter. We are celebrating with a massive cleaning session on Sunday followed by takeaway curry. By the way, I just want to say I haven't eaten chocolate all week, despite many temptations along the way. I'm like a machine of strong will, but mostly just stubborn as I didn't want Skinner to beat me as I failed miserably last week after day 2.

Homeless in 8 days

So I’m in the middle of house hunting hell. Yes, it’s seriously hell. You’d think it would be easy. I’m in a city where there are so many transient people, surely I’d be able to find a room. Well, no I can’t. I’m a loser. Looking for a room in a houseshare is seriously like having to audition for Big Brother. Well, it’s how I imagine auditioning for Big Brother would be like. You get about 5 minutes with your potential housemates to woo them and make them remember you out of the 200 applicants they get for the room. So far, I haven’t mad much of an impression. Well, I have, but not in the right way. Last week I looked at a place that had a 30 year old female living there. She didn’t quite believe that I was 26, but after insisting I was, she seemed to believe me. We then proceeded to bond about Sex and the City and other various girly things. I thought I was kind of a shoe in, because a) she said I was looking really good and b) well, there is no b and although it was way out of my budget, I was going to take it. So the next day I got a text message from her saying she was really sorry, she had given the room to someone else, but if I wanted, we could go out for a drink sometime. A drink? I don’t want a drink, I want a freakin’ bedroom! Ugh. I also saw another potentially good place which was just down the road from where I am living now. I made the mistake though of telling the guys that I really liked watching this show about midgets on tv. The delivery of the story was atrocious, which I acknowledged and they did too, we all laughed, but now I am thinking they where laughing but thinking this girl is a freak. I got an email saying they really liked me but they had given the room to someone else. It's not you, it's me. That old chestnut! Last night I got asked if I stole and then if I screamed in the middle of the night. I mean seriously.

Now, I am truly getting desperate. I am like one of those 35 year old women who go out on the prowl at every available night out sporting a black leather mini skirt and their black backpacks that were kind of cool in the 90’s but are now the equivalent of happy pants. It’s like going speed dating. I’m meeting someone (or sometimes 5 people), thinking we get along and maybe we have a future together, imaging what it would be like to live with them, and then BAM, they don’t call. Why don’t they call? Why don’t they want to live with me? I’m normal(ish), clean, don’t have any weird habits. I know I tell pointless stories and sometimes, ok, most of the time deliver them really poorly, but they don’t know that. Ok, enough whining. Oh crap. I just realised to add to my failings in life, I can’t count either, I thought I had 14 days left. This particular point calls for more than just a ‘crap’, hmmm, ok, SHIT! Sorry mum, but it was called for.

Other than house hunting, I’ve been, ummm, ok, house hunting is all I’ve been doing. I did manage to squeeze in my first proper restaurant meal in London on Saturday night. Apparently it’s Gwen and Chris’ favourite restaurant, well, that’ according to Vic, and I’ll believe anything. It was amazing. As usual I picked the crappiest thing on the menu, but it was still good, but not as good as everyone else’s. I really need to address my order envy problem. I’ve tried copying others, but then I convinced myself that my meal is better, but it never is. Why try and be different? When it comes to ordering out, individuality over way overrated. Speaking of food I am undergoing a challenge this week. I am not going to eat chocolate for 7 days. I tried going without for 3 days last week but failed miserably. It was embarrassing. I know where I went wrong, it was the caramel Mc Vitties. Damn that caramel biscuit that so cleverly holds the biscuit together when you dip it in your tea. But now there is pride and money at stake. I will overcome my weaknesses and show those non-believers that I can do it.

Wish me luck.

Brain and foot freeze

My brain hurts. I’ve been working and having to think way too much of late. I mean, seriously, I need a good 2-3 hours per day of faffing to survive. Plus, I need to be surfing the net instead of working. I mean, I’ve got important things to do like look for somewhere to live and also look for winter holiday spots for my trip with Megan.

Looking for somewhere to live is so painful. Because we haven’t been paying our bills properly, like not paying council tax and not owning a tv means that my bills haven’t been that accurate. So now, when I’m looking for a place to live that has a tv, occupants that actually pay the bills they’re suppose to and maybe a house that doesn’t have mould growing everywhere, it’s a lot more expensive. Plus, it’s so competitive. You have to firstly email the person who is advertising and try to sound normal and considerate, yet fun at the same time. Then, you have to go see them and the room, then, if you’re not a complete nutter, meet the rest of the housemates for a drilling session.

At the beginning of the week I went for my 2nd round interview at this 6 person share house near where I am living now. One girl was really hostile for reasons I don’t understand. She started talking about how the 21st of February was the day when most suicides occurred because it has the least amount of daylight. Then she told me we would be losing 4 minutes of sunshine this weekend with the end of daylight savings. Needless to say, she was charming. I got absolutely drilled on why I was moving out, why I wasn’t wanting to live with my current housemates and when I made the mistake of saying my current house was kind of crap, I got drilled as to why that was. Umm, maybe cause the heating hasn’t been working, the house is infested with mould, the toilet doesn’t flush and the letting agents keep allowing potential tenants into the house without asking. It wasn’t for me anyway cause the bills ended being £100 per month instead of £70 as advertised. This was on top of rent being £575 per month. Don’t convert. Don’t convert!

Another fun part of house hunting is going to never been seen areas of London. Like ending up in ghettoville when you catch the wrong bus going the wrong way. Then you don’t want to get your a-z map out cause it’s just not 'street enough' when you’re in da hood. Let’s just say I didn’t see East 17 when I was wandering around Walthamstow….

Um, onto other things, last night I went and saw The Vegemite Tales. It was actually really funny and resonated well with me and most of the Aussie audience. Some of the small things about living in London rang so true, like drinking wine out of mugs cause you have no glasses and the fact that so many Aussies adopt a strange affection for all things Cold Chisel as soon as they land here. Plus I heard the word ‘boofhead’ that I hadn’t heard in a while!

This weekend I am off to Manchester with Cassie. It will be fun to catch up with Vic and Nick and hopefully the chocolate place we visited last time I was there!!

Other than the house hunting and the manic workload everything is going really well. Oh, and also apart from the fact it is freezing here and it’s only autumn! It’s getting a lot darker in the afternoon now, so I can imagine winter is going to be rather depressing. I am also waking up with a cold nose and freezing feet every morning despite wrapping myself up in a blanket and wearing thermal pj’s. I think a hot water bottle may be needed, or and electric blanket.

SAAAT, sausage and goulash

I have returned from the lands of sausage and goulash and am all the fatter for it. I ate possibly the best sausage ever in Zakopane in Poland. Although, that means it would come up against the best hotdog ever in Hamburg. My Lady and the Tramp moment with Skinner is kind of hard to beat….

So I had a rather cultural holiday which was both pleasant and long overdue. My brain feels all the more enriched. Well, kind of. I was all for feeding my brain until I got to the Salt Mines in Krakow (admittedly, this was on the 2nd day) and had to eat my lunch and all associated snacks halfway through cause I was bored. But apart from that, I am now a walking culture machine!!

You know when people really piss you off and you want to give them a piece of your mind and never do? Especially annoying American tourists?

Ok, let me paint the picture.

Characters:
Stupid and annoying American Tourist (SAAAT)
VM (yes, that’s me)

Setting:
Auschwitz – English tour 5th October 2007. SAAAT is going nuts taking photos. So much so that she is totally disregarding what the tour guide is saying while trying to get the best angle of the death camp, gas chambers and torture areas.

Tour group enters a building that has a sign saying “Please do not take any photos inside this area”.

[SAAAT proceeds to take photos all through this area. VM does a lot of glaring at her. VM stands next to her while she takes a photo through glass. SAAAT does not turn the flash off and does a tut when she looks through the viewfinder and sees nothing but flash].

SAAAT ‘Tut’

VM ‘I guess that’s what happens when you take photos when you shouldn’t’

SAAAT ‘Mmmmmmppphh’ (but more like Mmmmmmmppphh, you got no game kind of way)


[VM walks outside and SAAAT follows]

SAAAT ‘I was only taking photos because everyone else was’

VM ‘Just because everyone else is doesn’t mean you should to. It’s extremely disrespectful to do it when there are signs saying not to’

SAAAT ‘Mmmmmppphh’

[SAAAT then walks off to take more photos of the death railway]

[VM does more glaring]

I actually should have known that this is what would happen. I guess I was hoping that people would have more respect. Places like that bring out the worst in people. I guess I can understand why people take photos, but seriously, what are they going to do with them after? Instead of absorbing things through their lenses, they should have just listened, took in the travesty of what happened and learnt a lesson about humanity. There was one guy who answered two phone calls while we were in one of the sheds that housed men in Dauchau (this was probably one of the most depressing moments in the tour) and another handful of people who took photos in the gas chambers. Why? I just don’t get what is wrong with people.

Anyway, besides that, we also visited the Salt Mines before heading off to Zakopane in the Polish Tatra mountains. This place was beautiful but freakin cold. We hiked up to the Morskie Lake which was stunning and then had a picnic by the lake. I had kind of forgotten the good ole backpacking tricks/tight arseness of stealing breakfast items for lunch, but quickly got back into the swing of things! Then, the next day, we headed to Budapest through the Slovakian Donovally area. Budapest was pretty, but there was something slightly seedy about it. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but it didn’t have the charm and beauty of Krakow.

And now I’m back. With no more holidays til December……

Wrong but oh so right

It’s funny when you’re in a foreign country and you’re suddenly overcome with a wave of nostalgia for home. Usually I feel it in my stomach. What I wouldn’t give for a pack of BBQ Shapes or Twisties. Or, even better, a Farmers Union Ice Coffee. Oh, and Fru Chocs. And Lift. OK, I’ll stop. But the reason why I’m talking of all things home is from watching the grand final on the weekend. Yes, I got up at 4am to cram myself into the Slug at Fulham to watch it live with a hundred other Aussies. Don’t ask me why. Well, I do know, it was fun. But, it’s wrong to start drinking at 5am. Ok, what am I saying? It's fun but snakebites? What have I turned into? Beer just should not be mixed with raspberry. Crawling out of the pub at 11am is also wrong. Especially when everyone else is going about doing their food shopping outside and you’ve been dancing to Barnsy in the pub. It was a good day and long night, filled with completely random fun including bumping into some people I had met in Croatia, stumbling into a dim sum themed pub and eating the best chicken kebab on the way home.

I can’t begin to describe how different my life is over here. Not that life at home was bad, just different. I feel like I haven’t taken a breath since I got here. Standing still is now alien. But, I wouldn’t have it any other way. There are always so many new things to discover and my list of 'want to do' is endless. Of course I miss you all (and of course BBQ City) but I’m so happy here. Perhaps I’m in a hurry to do it all because I know it’s not my home and there's an end point at some stage, but if there had to be a temporary place to call home, I couldn't ask for a better one. Well, maybe take the tube and the bad weather out of the picture. Perhaps it's not even London itself, just the fact that I wanted more and now I have it.

This week I am off to Krakow and Budapest with Jen. I can't wait, although it's proof of how quickly time has flown, as I remember spontaneously booking it back in June. I'm looking forward, although this is not quite the right word, to visiting Auschwitz. Being able to go to a place such as this, that played such an important, albeit tragic, part in history is part of what living over here is all about.

The important things in life

There are moments in my job that I stop and think about how I can possibly continue to do this without shooting myself in the head. Don’t get me wrong, most of the time when I get told to think of headlines that can only contain 5 words, be emotive and use the word cow, I say “sure”. Then there are days like today where I get phone calls saying “the client doesn’t like the word ‘commemorative’”. I say “how about celebration?” The account service person says “mmmm, ummm, yes, I guess that would do, but can you think of more?” I put the phone down and then smack myself in the head with my hand. Then I begin to recall other professionally fulfilling days at work. Like the time I had an argument with an account service person about whether you say “via email” or “by email”. I mean, seriously, this is important stuff. Am I actually having these conversations? Do I really get paid to do this? Can I possibly live with myself doing this completely bullshit job?

Sorry. I’m grumpy cause I haven’t had enough sleep and at 2:55pm my shoes are still drenched from this morning.

Waaaaales

Let’s take a moment. I want to share my weekend with you. Shut your eyes. Think of me. She who recently had to Google ‘rugby words’ so she could sound like she knew what she was talking about on a job at work, draped in an Aussie flag, face painted with yellow and green wallabies and even drinking a beer (not Fosters, eeww) at a World Cup match. Yes, I was patriotic, sporty-like and in Cardiff on the weekend supporting the boys (ha!) for the Wales vs Australia World Cup game. It was awesome. Cardiff has arguably (because I’m an expert) the best stadium in the world. And, as told to us by our taxi driver, who could have talked underwater with rocks in his mouth, the only stadium in the world on the city’s High Street. The atmosphere was electric. When the Welsh sang their national anthem the hairs on my arms stood up. Of course, that was nothing compared to my singing of the Australian anthem which went something like ‘for we are young and free mumble mumble’. I do actually know all the words, but I had the Crows song in my head for some reason, so some remixing/confusion was occurring while trying to sing with due pride and patriotism.

However, I almost didn't get a chance to sing or see the game. Being the clever person I am, I left my £86 ticket on the ground outside the stadium. It was only after having my face painted and posing for a few photos that I realised, freaked out and ran back to where I thought I had left it. Luckily it was still lying on the ground, untouched.

Now, I’ve come to discover that when you start drinking at 11am, by the time it’s 7pm and you’ve already started a dancefloor at the bar, it feels like at least 1am. But I managed to pull through and get some free buffet in the process. Skinner and I were eyeing it off for at least half an hour before deciding to give it a crack. We couldn’t see any staff supervision, so we decided to risk it and help ourselves. Unfortunately, I was caught with plate in hand and the other on the handle of the spoon to the pasta bake when we got asked for a ticket. Luckily, I’m great at thinking on my feet, and stood there looking dumb and finally said ‘oh, do you need a ticket’? Skinner was no help whatsoever and thought of a comeback line about an hour later. However, we persevered and went in again with another game plan. To make other people without tickets go in front so they would get caught first. It paid off, and we ended up getting a plate full of food and sat in a dark corner stuffing our faces before feeling very satisfied.

It’s also a little depressing when the caravan park cabin you stay in is actually nicer than your house, so I have decided on a few prerequisites for my next house in London:

1) a toilet than flushes first go and seat not broken
2) hot water that works
3) a bit of carpet

Anyway, so the weekend was finished off with wasting time til the bus left with thinking of different food to eat:

1) Cajun chicken burger
2) Icecream
3) Twix
4) Cheese platter (mmm cheese)

I was also provided with a great source of amusement on the bus home. In fact, I’m still laughing as I type. The girl I was sitting next to was a heavy head nodder. So as she dozed on the bus, her head would fall to the side and she would continually donk her head on the window. Every time I heard the thud I started shaking with laughter. Silent laughter of course, I wouldn’t want to wake her up and then not have anything to laugh as it was a reasonably long ride home.