Rainy Weekend.

So as of Friday, I've had a lovely, big house all to myself.

The wonderful French/English family I found have left to treat their kids to the beauty of New York during Halloween and, remarkably, trusted me to stay here alone: alarms, gas, electrics and all. Either they're crazy, or I fake mature and responsible very very well.

But two days and the house is still in tact and I've not yet managed to open the door to randoms or hooligans, the only noteworthy visitors being a New Zealander and a Norwegian who were both shocked at the ample space for activities (and proceeded to show how it could be used. Nothing broke, thank hallelujah).

Other than activity time, there was a lot of bad tv watching, and arguing over which tv program was better to watch in terms of ultimate 'bad' tv. But the bad tv was far outweighed by bad food. The Brits do it well.

We also ventured out under a surprising blue sky (which later turned to grey, dark grey and finally an alarming black) but we managed to see St Paul's, and were walking along the Millenium Bridge before the buckets began to pour. We kept walking through the rain along the Thames, first to London bridge and then on to the Tower Bridge. At London bridge we managed to find a wonderful market that was drowning in French flair and took me back to my Parisian days. Stall after stall of cheese, bread, mulled wine mixed in with fish'n'chips, mince pies and sausages. We couldn't resist a delicious gourmet pie to put warm food in our bellies and keep our hands toasty.

We then took the tube to Hammersmith, got a fill of Saturday afternoon Primark where a clothes store can suddenly replicate a football match, complete with crying babies, anxious women and imminent violence. Of course, we ended with a trip to Sainsbury's, getting a remarkable amount of food for 13 pounds, and obviously, ready to regret shopping while hungry.

The walk home was brutal. The weather seemed to become winter overnight on Friday. The chill is icy and with daylight savings, it is now pitch black by 5pm. Hurrah.

But on the exciting side, next Tuesday Robbie Williams will be in Trafalgar Square to turn on the Christmas lights, the Kardashians will be at the Westfield opposite me on Novemeber 10th, and I still get to enjoy the prospect of having no job.

By which I can translate to: tv, food, and making the couch my new best friend.

A Day In The Life.

Help!

My Twist and Shout to get up this morning, dragging myself to leave the warm, soft haven and face the day was difficult.

Just Let It Be, I thought to myself. I've Got A Feeling today is going to be a good day.

Finally exiting the house I discovered a murky day, not doing anything to ease my morning strife. The sidewalks were packed, people heading in every which direction with an added purpose, a vehement attitude towards their next destination. A young girl squeezed past me, bumping my elbow and letting out a piercing screech 'Hey Jude!', she yelled, before I had time to cover my ears.

I turned around to watch her run up and hug said 'Jude'. I'm across the universe, and some things are still exactly the same, All You Need Is Love.

The streets of London are getting brighter. Christmas Time Is Here Again. There are lights out, decorations line Oxford street, and every store places Santa, front and centre, promising happiness and gifts inside.

When I get to Millie's new abode, she thought we could go for a Day Tripper.

While we waited for cars at the pedestrian stop I thought, Don't Pass Me By. They looked like the stopping sort, Don't Let Me Down, I repeated.

Eight Days A Week Millie and I are unemployed, London is our oyster. Her Majesty is here, and so are we.

We're Free As A Bird.

We're slowly doing Every Little Thing that this city has to offer.

We think we're getting closer to a job, we think its getting better. But it's always so hard to know.

Money, (That's What I Want). But it's more than that too. It's London, it's pricey, but it's the place of big things, important things. I want that purpose, that drive. It's lying here dormant.

Maybe I Should Have Known Better, maybe I'll Cry Instead.

Maybe I'll Follow The Sun. Like Dreamers Do.

I've got the Ticket To Ride, but I'm Still Searchin' for the entry.

Any way you look at it, finding a job is the one and only right now. My concern, first and foremost.

I'm not thinking, I'm A Loser, or I'm Down. In my life, I want these things to happen, these little unseen road bumps. Cos once you hit them, you get the potential to fly.

It Won't Be Long, I'm told. That means a lot. If they're not lying. And I hope not.

Tomorrow Never Knows, so I'll wait. When I'm Sixty Four, I'll look back. That was the time of my life, I'll say.

Komm Gib Mir Deine Hand.

The End.

The Inevitability of Too Many Choices.

Ever wonder if you're doing the right thing?

Start to think, maybe it was misguided, maybe that thing I was so set on doing, mind made up and focus full steam ahead distorted the inevitable reality?

That leap you took. That dive you made. That stepping right on in to the unknown, refusing to hold back, cover up or second guess. Was it, right?

There were other options, of course, but they were unquestionably forgotten. Glimpsed at, without thought. Seen, without wondering. They were mere obstructions to the inevitable. The one choice, clear, golden, right. Known all along.

But when something seems so right, there are no other possibilities, there should always be alarm bells. Warning signals. Sounding off left, right and centre.

It's not until after you take that dangerous leap of faith, that the pre-requistes gleam obvious, the downfalls, in hindsight, are always so there. What was once impossible to be seen, is left the most obvious of the bunch. How was that not there before? But it was. It was simply your mind's eye, refusing to see.

.......

I had a chicken AND bacon salad for lunch, and I'm not sure that I'm feelin' it.

Pesto chicken. Should always be the answer.

Overheard in London.

"Are you sober enough for us to do this?"

11am on a Tuesday morning. Shepherd's Bush Central.

Week to the Day. The London Way.

Today I woke up abruptly. At first I wondered why. Startled that I woke so fast, with such purpose, for a brief moment I forgot where I was. What I was doing. For an even briefer moment, I thought I was still dreaming.

But before I had time to think about the strange things around me, the inability to place my surroundings, or the bizarre light shining in from under my door, I realised why I had woken with such vigour.

There was a loud pounding on my door.

With a lack of trepidation only an absolute naivety and blissful ignorance that still being half asleep can induce, I got up and opened the door. Looking out the door, my eye level was met instantly by nothing, followed by a rush of wind around my lower legs. I looked down to see two blurred splotches of blond hair speeding past my legs, and disappearing from my field of vision,
into my room behind me.

Turning around slowly, so as not to get too light headed at being up so early, and so suddenly, my bed was now inhabited by two small children in miniature school uniforms, with what was clean, brushed hair and washed and ironed clothes, in the matter of a moment, completely undone. Apparently morning was boring without waking me up and proceeding to jump on my bed, on me, and take my pillows and duvets for personal hiding spaces.

Going back to bed was clearly out of the question.

It was 7am.

After an unexpected, but nonetheless, delightful start to the morning, the day was started with an overground tube to the Camden Markets. I realise now that the Overground is like the Underground's older, mature and generally better relative. It makes putting up with the jittery, smelly, cramped underground a joke between the less knowledgeable.

Enjoying the smooth ride, and brilliant sight seeing experience that is the wonderful new above-ground invention, and meeting Millie along the way, we set off to the alternative and eccentric renowned area of London, liked and disliked in equal measure depending on who you talk to, but no doubting is gaining increasing popularity.

Having already been this year, during my earlier travels, I already knew I liked it. I remember thinking last time I was here as a tourist, 'if I ever live in London, I am going to LOVE this place. I am going to come here all the time'. So the last part isn't exactly true. A week to the day since I've been here and it's my first trip. But it was a goodie all the same and I do love it.

We chose to go on a Monday early morning, the rain hanging damp and obtrusive in the air, so crowds were thankfully not much of an issue. It was fantastic to stroll the stands, checking the various stalls and ogling the interesting individuals present, in between being heckled by the owners, eager to stamp their product as the best. There were Halloween costumes galore (I'm hoping. God forbid some of those things were meant for casual wear) and I slightly wish some of the things people were wearing were practicing for the 31st.

Millie and I grabbed lunch at an Indian stall with a friendly patron, impressing upon us our ability to mix and match ANY of the meals on offer, complete with a side of rice or cous cous. While mixing and matching is great at supermarkets and at a clothes store, the target selling point of Indian cuisine should probably steer clear of the mixing chicken, beef, tandoori, samosas and Rojan Josh path. But the man was delighted we chose his food and it tasted delicious. Four pounds for an American sized quantity of food eaten on the Venice-inspired Camden canals couldn't have been nicer.

We followed up with the markets at the Stable Yards, where the smell of leather or horse is constantly perpetuating and the blare of techno music from the rave inspired stalls is unavoidable.

Discovering the Overground comes inexplicably infrequently is avoidable, but wasn't today, and I found myself running Amazing Race style through Shepherd's Bush with two children's sized umbrella's, two lunchboxes, a stuffed elephant and a pram. Adding a balloon and two children to the tally, I made my way back, spending the rest of the day playing hide and seek, cars, dolls and all my other favourite activities.

The children did their homework...

I finally have a home, after much deliberation, and I'm getting pretty excited about ransacking IKEA as well as making my own food without getting asked if I will share and never seeing it again.

Tomorrow I have the whole day off, so if London co-operates (is the Moon square?) I'll be walking up Parliament Hill and admiring the Gherkin.

First weekend.

I rode the bus for the first time today, and like a true local, I sat on the bottom. Partly (read: totally) because I couldn't work out how to get upstairs. It wasn't until I saw a fat man struggling with part of the bus wall that I soon realised the 'bus wall' was in fact the stairs. Though one had to wonder why the heck he was going up when there were plenty of seats at the bottom and he probably weighed close to 1000 pounds.

A rainy day in London today but it knows how to pull it off.

I have a new obsession with London rain. People here barely seem to notice it. Subconsciously, and with that practiced art that can only come from doing something far too much, they pull on their hoods and flex out their umbrellas and continue on. Why should rain stop you moving on with your day as usual?, their demeanour implies. I love it and couldn't care less that its raining as long as its still London. It's still bustling and that accent still rings loud and true. There is something incandescently exciting about this place.

I spent last night aggravating neighbours at a flat warming for a group of Kiwis, freshly moved into their new abode. And by freshly, I mean freshly. They didn't have cutlery let alone a draw to put it in. No one had unpacked and none of the beds had covers. This made our spontaneous sleepover more than interesting.

Today I spent with a friend who was perpetually trying to convince me to move into her apartment. Something the Kiwi flat is also working to do. My decision deadline is today and I'm torn!

On the up side, I can hear English revellers cheering at the football match and at 4.30, the lights are already on at the tube station across from me.

I'm pretty sure, above the heavy dark clouds and dense rain, behind the hazy atmosphere and overcast sky, the hidden sun has set.

Real job? Pronto?

Waking up at the hour of a 3 year old tomorrow, to bathe, dress and feed two under five's.

Please Thy Mighty Spirit, give me strength.

Day Two: Daydreaming.

After my first full day in the land of Will and Kate, I can safely say.. I still feel like I'm dreaming.

I stepped outside of my comfortable abode this morning, immediately faced with the bustling area of Shepherd's Bush mid morning. Walking down the street, the beautiful English chill moving me along faster, I got a feel for the area I'm in, and became aware I'm in London's best attempt of Paris' 20th arrondissement, Belleville. It took about 10 minutes walking before I actually encountered English. Instead my ears were met with languages matching the array of cuisine shops on offer: Lebanese, African and general Middle Eastern delights.

I can't help but love it all. I live almost directly opposite the wonders of Shepherds Bush Market and all that the maze of oddities offers, and am a dangerously close distance to Europe's biggest Westfield, it's bright, shining lights beaming in my window at night.

Today I drunk cups of tea, ate fish'n'chips (minus the fish) at the park, watched squirrels and even got some boring practicality shit sorted out.

Tomorrow I'll attempt to open a bank account, view a flat and get lost in the wonder that is Camden Markets.

London, I don't really know you that well, but first impressions always count, and so far, I'm thinking this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

Merely commencing.

I am in London.

After two long flights, countless naps at Singapore airport and almost face planting my plane dinner after falling asleep the minute it was delivered and then waking up to find it completely gone, I have successfully arrived.

It rained. I didn't care.

As we were landing, I peered enthusiastically out the tiny window, drinking in the thousands of shiny lights, in disbelief. The moment we landed I looked around at my fellow passengers, expecting clapping, cheering, maybe some party hats and banners. Nothing. Blank expressions and weary eyes occupied their faces. Did they not realise where we were? Did they not know we had just landed at one of the biggest, busiest and best cities on the planet?

Obviously not.

I mirrored their expression, but my insides were like an English football match, tiny little balls of colour running round widely and excitedly, not really knowing what the hell they were doing, but goddamn enthusiastic all the same.

The customs line took an age but I didn't mind. Joining the 'All Passports' line meant I was metaphorically shifted to the kids table. I wanted the sound of Britain but was handed a motley accented bunch of Australians, Americans, and Jamaicans but I could still make out that beautiful sound. Like singing birds on a mild, summers morning, the sound of the British accent rose above, delighting my ears with 'innit', 'roight' and 'next!' (Which unfortunately sounds pretty much the same).

I got through in a breeze (despite probably acting like I had a half tonne of A class nestled where the sun don't shine) and picked up my waiting bags, a warning 'caution: heavy' label, the newest addition to my well travelled case.

Following the hustle and bustle of a typically busy Heathrow airport, I followed a young family, chatting excitedly with eagerness to see whoever Patty and Bill were. I pushed aside the wish of having my own Patty and Bill. Little did I know, I'd get better. Not three steps out of the gates, an inappropriately dressed, red headed girl could be seen ducking the barriers and making her way towards me! After passing off the likelihood I had found myself a stalker, I was stoked to see Millie. It was just 7am! She may have had 'nothing to do' but it was still the crack of dawn!

After 25 hours of no talking, bar 'chicken please' and 'apple juice, no ice', it made for a squeaky first speech. My excitement merely emanated as 'eek!'.

My first day has been wonderful. Millie managed to easily navigate me to Shepherds Bush Market, despite my super organisational skills and pre printed maps, and I found my new (glorious) home without a hiccup.

After painfully lugging my suitcase up four flights of stairs (yes. My room is on the fourth storey) and finally showering, Millie and I walked to Holland Park with a Tesco's 3 pound meal deal tucked under our arms. It was a chilly lunch, with the ever threatening London rain present, but I was kept highly entertained with Millie's refusal to resist the squirrel temptation. She's obsessed. Pretty sure she was a squirrel in her former life.

I'm halfway to getting a national insurance number and somewhere along the path to getting a bank account. Accommodation and job still remain futile. But who needs a job when you have a bank account right?

Oh shit.

I'm off to eat my Snickers.