Happy November

Hello, hello, and thank you Glo for nudging me!

Not only has Facebook made me lazy, but I still can't figure out how to blog with everything going on. Jeffy and I are buying a home! Closing probably at the end of this month, so we'll celebrate for Jeffy's birthday, and be in before Christmas.

It's not too far from here, and in the same "area", but it is about a block from the DC line. I'll be one stop closer to work, and a much shorter walk from home, so I estimate shaving 15-20 minutes off my commute, and saving 80 cents per day. Which means I could stay with the same morning schedule and get in earlier! Whereas he walks now and his office is right above the metro, Jeffy would have to take the metro one stop north. 'Tis only fair...

The condo we're buying is a real gem. The area is considered the Rodeo Drive of the East Coast. (Ironically I don't shop at Fendi, Tiffany, Saks 5th Avenue, Bloomingdales, or Lord & Taylor, but there they are. It lends a nice atmosphere, of course. However, my other favorite stores are also there: TJ Maxx, Filene's, Loehmann's, and all the other groceries and bookstores - a Whole Foods is under construction too!) Our building is in a "village" that encompasses only a few blocks, so, basically, a desirable neighborhood within a desirable area. The village runs a shuttle bus from the residential buildings to the main stores. There is a new village center that has a fitness center, gallery, theater, classes, library, and so on. Lots of twee green spaces, flowers, benches, sculptures, a fountain. Sort of a hidden enclave behind the shops, so I never knew about it when I lived in the area before and used to shop around there.

How do I describe it in short? It's going to be difficult because I've never lived in such a neat place. The building is high-rise and has more amenities than we can shake a stick at - valet laundry, dry cleaner, and convenience store downstairs. Gym and huge pool with lanes on the roof, as well as a roof deck. Beautiful lobby, marble floors, brushed bronze and wood paneled elevators with discreet tinted mirrors.

The 2 bedroom, 2 bath condo itself is nearly at the top and has been refurbished to the highest standard I've seen. Maple and tile floors. High end brushed steel appliances that would be so far out of my price range I'd never look at them in the store. Gorgeous light fittings. Granite counters in the kitchen and bathroom. Brushed nickel fixtures. Tons of storage.

I can't wait, and neither can Jeffy. He is excited about the kitchen.

On Halloween, we went into Georgetown dressed as a buccaneer and buccaneer babe. Pics are up on Facebook of course, clicky here.

Work has been good. I've been working hard. I had the day off today because my company gets federal holidays. However, it was cold and rainy. I bummed around all morning and then met Jeffy for a quick lunch. Then I went down to the shopping area near our new home, and did some shopping in preparation for winter, having grown out of most of my clothes from last year!

Well, it's nearly bedtime and it's back to work again for me tomorrow, so I'd better say goodnight and try to visit your blogs another day.

I hope you all are well. If anyone comes by, perchance, do leave me an update in the comment section! I'd appreciate that. Miss you all!

Till next nudge ;-)

Forgotten July

Like some of my fellow bloggers, posts have been few and far between. There is simply too much going on.

Jeffy and I are still setting up house because we can only make progress on weekends. People who accomplish things on weekday evenings after work must be superhuman.

Yesterday I scrubbed the kitchen from top to bottom while Jeffy assembled our fantastic bamboo kitchen cart. Yes, it is made of bamboo! It's quite heavy and substantial, a really nice piece of furniture - the top is half bamboo board and half granite slab.

It looks like we will have to go to London in early September. Some of you may remember that my mother has been suffering for over a year now with an undiagnosed degenerative nerve condition and has been undergoing a series of tests at Whittington Hospital. Her neurologist there had referred her to a leading research specialist in the field at University College Hospital's Institute of Neurology, which has the best neurologists in the country. She was finally diagnosed on Thursday with Motor Neurone Disease, which is progressive and incurable. The outlook could be a few months, or a few years, but unless she is lucky and hits a plateau (like Stephen Hawking), there's likely not that much time. There are 4 types, and after further testing, and just seeing how it progresses, they will know which type it is. Mum herself suspects ALS (Lou Gehrig's). Most of the family has been notified that if they want to see her they must go to London, and soon, just in case she loses the ability to speak.

Essentially, MND is the worst diagnosis possible. Multiple Sclerosis (MS) would have been infinitely preferable. Imagine saying about a parent: "I wish she had MS"...

You may think I sound matter-of-fact, and yes I am - but I have had my moments this week, especially at my desk at work, and I am sure they will continue. In the face of it all, Jeffy has been a godsend. I don't know anyone else who is so full of peace, positive energy, internal strength, and pure goodness. Without him I would probably have been in pieces.

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In order to end this on a lighter note, I must share something lovely. One of my most faithful and longtime readers, Moody Minstrel, has composed a delightful acoustic ballad for J and me. Those of you who know of my odyssey will see that the lyrics are perfect. It's called Matching Smiles and was inspired by the photo of us on the tall ship in Old Town Alexandria. I am sure MM won't mind me sharing this with you all, since you are also in the faithful reader circle, and I thank you for that.

Thank you a thousand times, Minstrel-san!

Matching Smiles

What flow of karma, blessed winds of fate
From Heaven's gate
Led our paths to cross?
A scene no artist's brush or author's pen
Determined how and when we came together.
Like an angel dropping from the sky,
You came, and I
Didn't see you coming.
Now I almost fear that I'll
Open my eyes and see
It's all a fantasy.
Nobody pinch me!

A breath ago I fled a grayer place
And turned my face
Toward the setting sun.
I only hoped to sate my wanderlust,
Do what I must to find some warmth and color.
But instead I found a deeper truth
Of rhyme and rhythm
And a brighter promise.
Now the words are dancing
On your lips and on the page
While language sets the stage,
A whole, new age!

We look upon the world with matching smiles
And go in style
Where even words don't go.
We'll hear the music on the 18th Street,
A swinging beat to kiss the week goodbye now.
Turn the darkness to a brighter day,
A place to stay
That is a house, a home.
The candlesticks are red,
The smell of cookies fills the air.
Between us not a care,
As long as we share!

Update (short version)

I have written a long version to this update which I will share with you when this is all over, unless it just seems unnecessary and very old news by then.

In short I will say that neither reason nor the law have been enough to promote compromise, and Jeff is taking very good care of me, and has removed the situation from my hands almost entirely.

Last week I was inspired to create a quote:

Hope and optimism are the things that keep you looking past the present darkness

It is the sort of saying Jeff's maternal grandmother Amalie would have appreciated. She wrote a book of uplifting daily passages that I hope to finish reading sometime. It seems to run in the family, for he is never short of encouragement. Negativity is anathema to his way of life, and he follows a strong internal code of honor which is rarely seen in this day and age. It really puts me in mind of the knights of old, that is how strongly he is motivated to do the Right Thing.

I cannot get over how his capacious mind never stops creating, thinking, and considering things from every angle. Because not only does he stand on that reservoir of peace I mentioned last time, he also seems to create time with sheer willpower. He never says, "I can't". He almost always manages it, usually succeeds at whatever he puts his mind to, and never makes excuses on the rare occasions he doesn't accomplish something.

He is a Visionary I think, and when he envisions the future, I can see it too.

And then he goes and says, "But you know everything, Livvy." (When I said "I don't know" the other day to a question about the Atlantic Ocean. We were at Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, and I was pretty knocked out by sea air at the time, but I think now I feel an answer formulating somewhere in the back of my brain...)

I am also thankful for my job and my supportive colleagues (those who need to know); the environment of sanity that it provides; an escape from the tension of my situation at home.

Life Happens

Hi everyone,

Sorry it's been so long since I wrote here. Believe me, I wanted to, but many things are going on and .... well, I have just realized that I am probably undergoing a major life transition now.

First, I have learned a hard lesson: Current company excepted, I will from now on try to limit my dealings with New Yorkers.

My landlady finally went on the long-awaited rampage, a little earlier than I'd expected. I have never seen such wild eyes in my life.

Jeff turned out to be my knight in shining armor, surprise surprise - although he is sorry that his efforts to protect me from her by - calmly and quietly, as is his way - citing actual DC tenancy laws are what precipitated the drama and we would have been totally justified in calling the police on her.

He is representing me, and her daughter is representing her. He's drawing up a new agreement to end my lease.

He seems to "stand upon a reservoir of peace" (this is the image in my head), and uses words of wisdom, and a tone of reassurance. Within a couple of minutes he had turned her daughter's vicious approach over the phone into a reasonable legal discussion tinged with just the right amount of humanity.

I will move in with him around the end of July - he offered twice in two days, and I can stay for as long as I like, even forever. He wants to make a home, and is intensively looking to buy a place.

He has told me with utmost sincerity that he is here for me; it is a miracle that he found me; he only wanted to protect me and cannot see why anyone would be mean to me; he cares for me unconditionally and limitlessly; that Fate and Destiny have only good and bright things in store for me, and for him, and he can't wait.

And the way he looks at me...I haven't seen that since my father used to look at my mother...just the thought of it takes my breath away.

Another go

This may surprise you - actually no it won't, you know me better than that - but I've been looking at jobs in the Washington DC Metro area for a couple of weeks now.  

I can see that New York is not going to give me the life I want and I don't have time to force the issue.  Before it turns into another London, I have decided to look at places with a lower cost of living and a different lifestyle.  

All the jobs that suit my mind are concentrated there.  Some of you may know that I've been wanting to go since college, and others may remember that before I left London, it was very high on my list.  I wish I'd gone waaaay before the elections though.

DC is not New York and it doesn't want to be, which really annoys the expat New Yorkers.  It's more conservative in style and habit.  I have never needed hipness or a vibe, whatever they mean.  

It has the feel of a smaller town and is in fact more compact, less populous, a bit slower.  A happy medium between Northeastern grit and Southern gentility, with the added bonus of colonial charm.  There is a different energy, too.  The energy of a population on a mission:  highly educated people from every state in the union and every country in the world with national and international interests.

....New blog titles?

Finely Tuned

Oh, somebody get me out of here. I hate when this happens - it's like when a relationship ends. I have a slump, staying in for days at a time, essentially housebound. I have not left the house since....hm, let me think....probably Friday when I went out with the girls. Oh, no, I did take a walk by the water on Monday evening. Sure, I have a grocery list, but there's stuff in the freezer. I even have to make returns at some stores in the city, but there's time left on the receipts...

At least it's not so bad "slumping" in a city I like. Still, I am officially bored and disgusted with myself. I feel like I need to tell myself off, like a wayward child, or get someone in here to drag me out. I was going to go out today, but maybe I will do it tomorrow. Needless to say, my phone takes a vacation sometimes too. However, on Sunday I put on Handel's Messiah and loosened up my vocal chords for a few hours. It was the first time in about....oh, two years? Felt so good.

Of course, when these stay at home periods end, my first forays out into the real world hit my senses like a wave.

So, to the point. It's going to rain tonight. Today was somewhat overcast, fairly mild, and a breeze started up in the afternoon. As darkness fell the breeze picked up. It's not cold (18C (66F)), but it is refreshing. I stood on the steps with my sleeves rolled up, taking in lungsful of air, and I had one of my life moments...

Leaves rustling on the trees and clattering along the sidewalk.

Cozy yellow lamps and pumpkins on people's porches, and the streetlights casting pinkish hues over houses and cars.

Pale patches of cloud scudding across an indigo sky.

A church bell ringing a few blocks away, carried to my ears on the wind.

After a few minutes the spell was broken, but I had enjoyed the feeling.
Then I thought I would come back and share that moment with you.



A poignant image of St Christopher, bearer of Christ, at St Patrick's Cathedral

Summer High

You know what I like about New York? People talk to each other.

If you look nice, someone is guaranteed to say, "You look nice."

If you air a question in the subway, more than one person will answer immediately - of any race, any age, any gender.

For instance, on the way home from seeing an apartment, we got on the wrong line and looking at the map I said to my cousin, "I don't see 86th street on this one." The guy sitting nearby overheard and said, "You need to get out right here and change to the 5 - right here!" And we jumped out before the doors closed.

Then, on the 5, after a minute I let out a sigh - more from entering the cool carriage from the hot platform than anything - and another guy nearby heard me, indicated to the half seat next to him and said, "Come sit here, there's space" and he squished over and I sat. Later on, the train braked really hard, a few people nearly toppled, and he shot out his arm in front of me thinking I was going to fall off the seat, and I laughed and said, "I'm ok, I'm ok."

Next stop, a couple of mothers got on with their toddlers in strollers. The kids were eating crackers and the mothers were quaffing chilled water. Pretty soon, as she leaned over the top of the stroller the mother wondered out loud if her son had finished his snack, and someone with a better view commented helpfully, "Sure, he's finished it. Maybe he needs a bit of water, his face is red..." So the mother gave him his sucky cup as if taking a suggestion from a stranger was the most natural thing.

Did I ever tell you that the only person who ever spoke to me in 6 years on the Tube was a jazz musician from New York?

The other day, an older lady and I were nearly shopping together at Macy's:
"Have you seen this? It's pretty."
"Oh look at this, it's in your size. Try it on."

Just one comment and you might enjoy a pleasant exchange and a laugh with a friendly random person as many times as you care to venture.

**********

A teaser of the clothing I've been acquiring:


Ann Taylor Loft (didn't buy this outfit, though I did get a couple of summer suits for upcoming interviews)



Jones New York Signature - look no sleeves - and white!

Next blog I will try to show you the others.


**********

We're having a summer heatwave here which started on Saturday but might end tomorrow. It's wiping out my cousin but my energy levels are still way up there. We went out today and he couldn't believe how active I was, until he remembered my Texas factor.

I guess 15 years in the Lone Star State is enough to harden anyone to heat, but I thought that 6 years in the London greyness would have reset my system.

The other good thing about the heat, the activity, the sun, and the food, is I am going back down a size and shaping back up, a process that started almost as soon as I got here, so promptly I was quite shocked - but I do feel much healthier and less bloated.

My cousin (Ryan) is a gym buff and has no problem pointing out what bits he thinks I need to sculpt! Bring it on.

**********

Good news on progress:

Went to surrender my TX drivers license, but got a bit emotional at having to part with it because for the past few years it has been like a friend. I'd take it out and look at that Lone Star flag and I'd remember good times.

Anyway, I can't get a NY license yet because they require my Texas records (all clean) so when that comes through later this week I can go back and get it done.

Then Ryan took me to open an account, the service was friendly and happy and everything's free, so I walked out smiling.

All of this was accomplished before 1pm.

As the temps were over 100 today, when we got back home it was 97 and we didn't venture out for the rest of the day. Stayed in basking in the A/C. He's lucky, his job is supervisory so he only has to lay out the plans early in the morning, and then his team takes over and he is free to go.

Oh, nearly forgot to mention, I found a place already!
It's in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, a residential enclave by the Verrazano Narrows Bridge, full of neater than usual brownstone rowhouses, sweet cottagey houses on cute streets as well as wide avenues lined with pretty little churches and quirky mansions built in the early 20th century as summer escapes for wealthy Manhattanites. The community areas feel villagey and the neighbors are helpful and friendly. Amenities are right on my doorstep or round the corner - subway, express bus, laundry service, pharmacy, groceries, banks, tennis, gym. A park overlooking the bay is a couple minutes' walk away too with bike trails.

The apartment is on the top floor of a quaint little house. It's small but spacious enough for two petite girls, with many original details. It's simple yet feminine, homey and peaceful.

As soon as I mentioned I'd read a listing there he jumped right on the idea and said it was a good area - being like the big brother I never had, and also having discerning tastes, Ryan doesn't want to leave me anywhere he doesn't approve of - anywhere with an iffy walk to the subway, a smell in the elevator, a badly lit hallway, whatever. The minute we drove into Bay Ridge it felt right. I said, "I want to be here", and I was praying my potential roommate would pick me. We clicked very quickly as we share not only many interests but many feelings about things. So I'll be moving in before the end of the month. Also, we both studied art history...

Only 10 days and things are falling into place. Next up: getting a job.

(And Ryan is the best cousin in the world.)

Bytes from the Big Apple

Hands up, who wants that title to be on the top of my blog??? Any other suggestions?

Get a cup of tea and put your feet up for this one, it's a saga!

********************************************************************

The Big Move

Where to start..............I arrived on the afternoon of Thursday the 29th after the easiest flight I have ever taken. On departure, there were no emotions at all - in fact, I fell asleep during taxi and was sort of awake during take-off. My neighbor was an amiable old fellow originally from Armenia and he and I got along splendidly.


Parkchester, where I am staying with my cousin for now

**********************************************************

The Shopping Day

Friday I went to Macy's and got my 11% discount visitor card good for 5 days from issue (note well, in case you need it: go to the Visitor Center upstairs, show them your passport or out of state driver's license and they'll hand it over no problem). Bought a couple of Givenchy necklaces, one gold and crystal choker and one short necklace studded with brown Swarovski crystals. I also satisfied my usual desire for Ralph Lauren clothing. I don't need Macy's for anything else really, not if I can always go to Filene's Basement. More on that another time.


The Empire State Building at night

********************************************************************

Staying Downtown

It is warm and summery here now, and by Saturday I was already slimming down and feeling energetic and healthy. My hair is soft, my skin is soft, my lung capacity is greater, no aches and pains, and no black soot in my nostrils.


Approaching Grand Central Station, the shiny Hyatt, and the Chrysler building, along 42nd Street

Saturday afternoon I checked in at the Park Lane Grand Hyatt at Grand Central, a rather nice establishment I must say. Got my room on the 25th floor.


That, I must say, is a very comfy bed


There were more toiletries than I could shake a stick at all over the bathroom


A room with a view...of 42nd Street and Grand Central

My black slippers from London no longer fit in the warm weather, so I had to run out to buy a pair in the afternoon. I was heading in the general direction of Macy's when across the road on Madison Avenue I spotted a swanky looking Payless Shoe Source, it's amazing the nice places that utilitarian shoe store pops up. You get great looking shoes, pretty good quality, for peanuts.

So $24.99 (for shoes, no tax under $100) gave me black patent peep toe kitten heels. Here is my outfit for the dinner:

As I walked down the street feeling very SATC, some old guy commented as he passed me, "Nice lady...", in all a very New York moment.

The event was held at a brasserie which serves "little plates" and my favorite thing to do is make a smorgasbord. As I was not very hungry, I had two lobster and artichoke spring rolls, and a plate of calamari washed down with sangria, and my dessert was puff pastry with whipped cream and raspberry coulis. The restaurant started us out with flutes of champagne and finished us off with tiny glasses of sweet muscat dessert wine.

It rained that night, and for the 3 blocks back to the hotel, I walked in it, enjoying the warm air and the warm droplets on my skin and the warm water in my shoes...




Back in my room I got a bit artistic with things. My bouquet on the windowsill of my room with the night view behind.


Good night New York

Plan A

TO DO:

Next week I plan to do a list of actresses to match my Hot List of actors. My problem is when I see an attractive girl on screen I say so, but can't look her up on IMDB because I don't know her name. I'm working on it, though.

For Planethalder, I will also do a hot list of vintage Hollywood hunks, and that's much easier since their names are legendary.

**********

UPDATE:

But for now, here's the situation. After a very dark emotional crisis over the long Easter weekend, I have decided to accelerate my move back to the US to the end of May. It's when I was originally planning to go, before I agreed to stay in this temp role until August. I thought I could make it but I can't. The next few months I liken to an aircraft stuck in a holding pattern before landing. Why hang around wasting fuel?

It's every little thing that has happened and piled up since last year. Added to that the fact that I've felt deep down for a couple of years that the time for departure was approaching. I need to change things now, before the major part of yet another year passes in stagnation.

Since making my decision, my mood has improved so much, my spirit feels lighter, and I feel less angry and stressed inside. Things about life here that would normally have me snapping or grumbling, I can now let go with little more than a shake of the head, because I can see the end of it. You should have seen me chatting, smiling and joking around at work yesterday. It was approaching my old self. It makes me sad that although my colleagues there like me, they have no idea. Except for one of the directors, who is always fun on the phone when he calls and gets redirected to me. Yesterday I returned as good as I got and he commented with delight that this must be the real Olivia, not the usual cool and professional one.

I want to recapture the strong, outgoing, resourceful, independent person I used to be before what I am now becomes permanent. I probably need a period of "rehabilitation".

I know that it won't be a bed of roses, or paradise. It might not even be the solution to my situation, but the odds are greater that things will be better. Because the bottom line is, the things I want, the life I aspire to lead, the lifestyle I need for my general well-being, are not here.

So that's that. I am going home.

Back in Time Tag

Selba tagged me quite a while ago and I only found out this week! So, here goes.

In short, I wish to go back to my early 20s when life was good.

Longer Version:

I wish to go back to my early 20s. I was at university, enjoying my studies, living on campus with Vanessa, the best roomie ever and hanging out with Jason and Johnny, to whom I would entrust my life. They were part of my close, adventurous, fun, varied, cosmopolitan, caring group of friends (who are still there). We would go to the opera or the ballet downtown, or to the beach, or for pancakes at midnight. I was emotionally strong and intact, there for my friends, ready to listen to problems, a shoulder to cry on, a voice of comfort, the therapist-to-be. I was also funny and witty, and my father and I were like a stand-up routine.

Finally filling out after being underweight my whole life, I had my hair in its first short cut and was discovering fashion because clothes finally fit without alteration. I was stylish for the first time ever.

I wanted for nothing and had access to more funds than I could ever need. I had my own car and even spent 6 months driving my Dad's sporty car, which is when I properly learned to drive, to corner, to floor it, to feel the feedback of road under wheels, and the round sound it would make at optimum speed which felt like the sweet spot on a tennis racquet.

I was making great grades, a committee chair in Program Council - used to run a coffee cart every Wednesday for the night students. I was President and Treasurer of our uni's chapter of Psi Chi (psychology honor society). I even worked part time in the psychology department and at the student volunteer office.

My parents were still together - they laughed and teased, held hands, kissed in the kitchen; everyone who saw them wanted what they had. We lived in a big four bedroom house in the pine forest north of Houston, part of a close knit community, a beautiful hometown with its own ballets and symphonies, but also the summer home of the Houston Ballet, Grand Opera, and Symphony. Every summer we would go to concerts and festivals; every October to the Greek Festival or International Fest downtown - I had more culture there than I do here.

We had neighbours to share homebaked cookies with, or invite round to use the jacuzzi, floating a bowl of grapes back and forth, or I'd babysit their dogs; the type of neighbours you wave at as you pass, roll down your window or park and walk over for a chat while they wait for the school bus; BBQ on someone's driveway on National Neighbourhood Night Out. Go to the grocery store for 5 minutes and end up taking an hour because you chat with everyone - friends and strangers.

We had a big front yard with roses and flowers for the hummingbirds. A big backyard that produced all manner of flower, herb, tropical fruit and vegetable - and hosted all manner of wildlife, some things we only saw once (like a flying squirrel). Plus I was always rescuing animals like the wren, the baby red cardinal, the wood pigeon, the newly hatched finch. My snuggly bunnies Lulu (the smart dog-cat-rabbit), Dapple (the soft shy velvet one) and Muffet (the white tailed spunky one) were still alive. We had a canary called Romeo who sang to break your heart, and a Society Finch called Lena who loved to watch TV.

Dad and I used to stand on the driveway at 3am watching meteor showers, and the silhouettes of the pine trees against the full moon.

I had the security of a stable home life and love, and that abundant confidence of the undergrad who knows the world is her oyster. I want that oyster back...


I tag (can sisters count as one? Ha!):

1. Um Naief & Jahooni
2. Lotus
3. Beanzzz & Zee
4. Nikki
5. Guyana Gyal

********************Start copy********************
Instructions:

Title: The Age That I Wish To Go Back To
Requirement: Write about the one age that you wish to go back to and why?
Tag Mode: 5 bloggers
1st - You leave blog and post link and add to the list below.
2nd - Let the blogger you want to tag know they had been tagged by commenting in their blog.

The Age that they Wish to Go Back to:

Amidrin wish to go back to age 22 to correct back some mistakes in life.
Lemonjude wish to go back to age 6 to enjoy kid’s life.
Hui Sia wish to go back to age 16 to meet her first lover again.
Giddy Tiger wishes to go back to a childhood life with no worries in the world.
Rinnah wishes she could turn back time to the happiest days of her life.
Ehon doesn't wanna go anywhere.
Chen wanna go back to age 19 to take a different pathway in life.
Selba wishes to go back to the time where she could persuade her parents not to move to Indonesia.
Olivia wishes to go back to her early 20s when the world was her oyster.

********************End copy********************

Backpedaling?

This is something I will not be posting on the other blog...too many British readers. But I'll have to tell them sometime...

At my current level of determination, before another year is out, my blog may be renamed.
Here are a few possibilities:

Olivia's...

New York Nibbles
Washington Posts (no not really, I'd probably be sued)
Wilmington Wibblings
Baltimore Blabber
Asheville Articulations
Richmond Ramblings
or even
Houston Highlights

Recent events have re-inspired me to all that I wanted before I came back to the UK, only now I have a Master's degree and more work experience.
I have once again turned my eyes to the mid-Atlantic states, and maybe a bit of New England, followed by some other reasonable possibilities.
Not the midwest or the far northeast or the southwest. Can't stand bad snow and slush, or sand and bone-dry air, or being more than a few hours from coastline, for some reason.

After a 4-year hiatus, my resume is back up on the federal jobs networks...
Amongst other suggestions, I'm also trawling through a New York arts related job site sent to me last year by my friend Denise.

To my American readers: If you have any more suggestions, please feel free to advise!

****

Seeing as I've been so reminiscent lately, all the jobs I ever wanted to do since I can remember have returned unbidden to my mind. When I was really little, my mother says I was noncommittal. My first memory of wanting to be something was probably in 9th grade (age 15). So let's start there and work our way up:

--translator at the UN - I studied French from grade 8-12 and then some in university
--archaeologist
--palaeontologist - as above, love doing fiddly things
--dentist - fiddly things + people
--veterinarian - always rescuing animals
--doctor - attended the Young Explorers program at the local hospital but the prospect of not sleeping for 3 years of residency put me right off

By the end of high school I was even more intense, concentrating on the sciences and considering these things:

--joining the Navy, and the Nuclear Power Program tried really hard to recruit me. I had to beg my mother on this one, though. And I wished I had joined the ROTC when I'd had the chance, instead of sitting there envying them...

When I started college with a science concentration, I worked in the biotech lab and thought I was going to become a researcher in the Houston Advanced Research Center, or at one of the many biotech firms in The Woodlands' Research Forest. I remember when the Navy-funded lab there discovered how to grow skin grafts in a dish using only one sample so that burn victims could receive their own skin. That was exciting stuff back then.

Other things I considered:
--NIH or CDC epidemiologist or something at the armed forces institute
--attending the officer training academy after a degree

At university, I soon put aside biology studies in favour of psychology until in the middle of it I realised I didn't want to be a psychologist; nevertheless, here's that list:
--psychologist
--therapist
--counselor
--organisational psychologist
Then my dad got excited about me getting into military psy ops. It was the only thing he ever nearly told me to do.

Returning to type, here was the most interesting phase I reached during my last two years of university, and I actually applied:

--all of the government and military agencies and subsidiaries which are best left unnamed
--foreign affairs officer/specialist with the Dept of State
Suffice to say, I started an International Studies minor and on one application, got to the last stage of examinations and testing before training began, and they said I should try again!
--forensic pathologist (took a criminal justice class and researched grad programs, some with stipends)
--Oh, and I nearly got into one of the NASA programs but while they could accept me taking final exams during orientation, my going off to London for my cousin's first baby was one delay too many. They were right, and I wish I had cancelled.

After graduation, working with the Houston school district psych services, I remember looking at jobs in NYC for:
--editorial assistant
--publishing house graduate training programs
And then art history jumped up and slapped me in the face and I opted for a grad degree in it, which pleased my parents, and let me tell you, they never, ever tried to make me be anything, which is probably why my list of career possibilities is so long and frustrating.

You've got to wonder why I have so often tended towards "serving my country"...

And why it has been stirred up once more by someone I need not name (American Boy), someone who mirrors so much of what I wanted to be before I came here. Added to that, the other signs are rife! I have psyched myself up to this for a couple of years, and this summer finally tipped me over...

To my English friends this sudden about-face seems against my type (the type they know), but to me it is a return to origins. In the States, I had grown up to believe a woman can do anything. I just put it aside when I returned to London and I became the English girl again. By all appearances, I had returned to my roots.

But I have now reached the point where I don't care to impress myself or anyone else with how posh and cosmopolitan we are darling. Now I just want genuine people who take me as I am, no judging, who make me laugh from the inside out, who let me be myself. I want a good finger lickin' barbecue with friends, and the option of running off for the occasional sushi and symphony downtown. I want accomplishment without pretence, success without snobbiness.

Do you know what I mean?

I knew my 30th year would be a year of change. I had no idea how much. I've heard this happens to people as they age, though.

Now, how can I compromise? Being a social/cultural chameleon is soooo tiring...

The Light at the End of the Tunnel

Hello dear readers,

Still feeling a bit down. Fed up of being fed up, etc. Still need to cry out the past month's stress and disappointment, but still oddly detached from it all.

Had an informal chat with my new consultant at one of my best agencies this morning. Bright and early at 9am. It took me nearly an hour and a half to get to Sloane Square from Harrow on the Hill. I spent so long in the train I felt a bit sick...that's a new one. I now dread daily commutes from here. Every creak and lurch of that damn Metropolitan line, and the way it lurks and hides in dark tunnels, and stops in the middle of nowhere for minutes on end...ugh.

So, 75 minutes en route for a 15 minute conversation, which fortunately looks like it will bear fruit, as she had some good permanent positions in mind. Plus after lunch, another called to reserve me for a company that asked for me specifically. Took a bit of reminding, but I remember who they are! How flattering. It's the insurance company where I was handing them back the completed work five minutes before they gave it to me.

So I had two hours to kill before my last lunch with American Boy. I walked slooooowly up Sloane Street, up Knightsbridge to Hyde Park Corner, then along Park Lane, shunning the memory of walking with him there on a couple of warm June evenings; from there down a side street, I was following my nose and ended up, ironically, on Grosvenor Square (America haunts me!). So, I decided to park myself on a bench and rest for a while, respond to some texts from friends, enjoy the sunshine, and watch people. Never tire of watching people; it is good therapy. After a while I popped into Selfridges for the loo, went to L'Occitane en Provence for a sniff of lavender to steady my nerves, and then met him for a quiet lunch.

Gosh, did I mention I miss his voice and that lovely accent already? And the way he says "lovely"? And how he is the perfect height and walks at just the right speed for me?

He is going to be a tough habit to break. I never said that about the others because they were not so intense, and frankly bear no comparison. In fact, the bar has been raised, which is something I thought impossible - having dated a posh, polished near-aristocrat and then having that knocked way out of place by a manly and cultured Southerner. Ha! Take that, English public schoolboys! Captain America was just what I needed [to put some hair on my chest, as he would say] and as I said before, he never judged me for being myself.

Obviously, I am not as sad as I was when I posted last Friday. Thank you all for your encouragement, by the way. Sure I will have my moments, but I think I will recover quicker [or more quickly ;) ] this time than I did 3 years ago. My old Texanisms may never go away now, hm? Oh, I've got the public schoolgirl accent for that Christies crowd anytime, but there is always a little unidentifiable twang that people can't quite figure out, developed when I was 12 and trying hard to lose my proper English accent.

As I said, America haunts me now. Everywhere I turn, she is there. I was going to launch into a diatribe about my building reasons for wanting to go back, but I won't offend you Brits or upset my local friends who read this blog. "You Brits", hehe, I have often noticed that I can disown both sides at will. Ah, but most of you know which side I stand up for every time...always have...

Instead, but still not so far off topic *rolls eyes* I want to share with you my most spectacular Freudian Slip to date, from Moody Minstrel's post about driving into the mountains of Japan for a musical weekend:

Pandabonium said...

Moody said, "forsake riding the bus in favor of driving up myself in my BLUE RAV4"

You can take the American out of the US, but you can't take the US out of some Americans. ;^)

Enjoy the music camp.

7:36 PM

Olivia said...

LOL @ Pandabonium

You can also take the English girl out of America but you can't take the American out of the English girl!

9:11 AM

...Followed immediately by my embarrassed retraction. But then I was rather proud of its greatness and decided not to delete it. :)

There, see? Light at the end of the tunnel. Pretty soon I'll be having you all engaged in witty banter once more.

Tightened Policy

Now on a need to know basis... :P

So. On Friday evening we went for a drink, got lost, had another drink, got lost again, had dinner, and another drink, and walked across half of London (I love how interconnected this city is) on the way home. Drink is such a silly word when you say it too often. But I have learned that a G&T is best if made with Bombay Sapphire and 3 pieces of lime, and that the London bar staff need special instructions on this...

Saturday it was a trip to Richmond for fish n chips. We walked a couple of miles along the river, chilled in the park, went to a biergarten and had a nice meat and cheese platter, travelled back into town, got lost, and then saw Ocean's 13 which was very retro-modern, sophisticated, and surprisingly funny in parts.

1) Getting lost can be fun if it's with someone you like.
2) Taxis are helpful for becoming rapidly unlost, though.
3) Especially if you've both left your maps at home.
4) Being picked up and dropped off at my door is the way it should be done. It is a particularly American habit that would never catch on here for reasons I don't need to specify.

Sunday...take a guess? He came by for lunch and ice cream at a French cafe in my neighbourhood before reluctantly going to a work function nearby, and then texting from there to say it was boring and that he'd MUCH rather be spending time with me. That was such a lovely thing to say.

Much packing I got done this weekend! And my Americanisms are coming back. I ought to try some of 'em out on y'all sometime. ;)

House Hunter

I went to see house number two from the previous post - the cute cream stucco one. It is not a houseshare.

Most large houses in London have been split into flats but you may not see that from the outside. Sometimes there is an addition with an entrance to a part of it, like that on house 2. Sometimes instead of one large original door, there are two doors, one to the ground floor flat, and the second has stairs to the first floor. And most houses now have had the basements and lofts converted into flats too. London houses have always had steps down to the lower ground floor (basement) entrance from the days when that's where the kitchen and scullery were, and where grocery deliveries were made - tradesman's entrance I guess. When a LGF flat is called a "garden flat" it means the tenants in the basement have sole use of the back garden.

In addition, in grander neighbourhoods, there are mews conversions. Mews are the old stables and workshops from the days when wealthy families living in the houses fronting the street owned a horse and carriage and kept household staff. Mews are cobbled alley ways behind the residential streets. I find them much cuter and desirable than the overly high-ceilinged homes they once served. Mews houses feel more cottagey, or they are sometimes completely refurbished into great contemporary open spaces. You still need to put down a million to own one, though.

So, who wants to hear about the cute house on Byron Hill Road (cute name eh?)

When I walked in I said "wow". The entrance is tiled with slate, and off to the left is a cloakroom (half bathroom). To the right is a pair of steps - one going up, and one going down. Here's the worst bit. The part that goes down is partly subterranean, a half basement, and there is damp in the wall. The estate agents are waiting for money to come through from the landlord to have it "cured" and repaired, and it will be a big job as they will need to tear out the downstairs bathroom too. (Funny enough, the landlord is moving to Houston, but lived in that house for 10 years.) So the second bedroom is downstairs and a very good sized one for an English house. The bathroom is ok and has a mixer tap.

Taking the second steps up you enter the wow space. The ceilings are so high you couldn't reach with a ladder. There's a lounge with two couches, dining area with table and six chairs, and open kitchen. Big American fridge. Very big living areas for over here, and hence the practical side of me says it will be difficult to heat in our bone-chilling winters, which are colder on the hills, mind you. All the warmth will rise to the heavenly ceiling and we will pay for it.

Off the lounge area there is a spacious master bedroom with double bed. What amazed me was the opposite wall covered with doors of all shapes and sizes, behind which are shelves and closets for storage, and then one narrow door at the end houses a ladder to reach it all! Another wow.

Were it not for the damp and the high ceilings, I would take it. Also, the long walk to the station. Yesterday, my mother said she will start driving over here and get a car, and drop me off...Oh my. I said we'd cross that bridge when we get to it. She hasn't driven here in nearly 20 years, but fortunately, Harrow on the Hill is not as manic or relentless as the rest of London. Some streets up there don't see a car in motion for 5 minutes at a time, maybe even more!

Tomorrow I am going back to Platinum House to see some larger apartments. I was comforted by the fact that water, gas and heating are included (and use of all those great facilities) in rental price except for electricity, phone, and council tax. Hopefully the slight hike in price of the places I am seeing will mean the kitchen comes out of the closet into an open plan, and gets us more floor space for the boxes we have...

I'll keep you "post"ed.

:P

10 Green Bottles...

...Sitting on the wall...And if one green bottle....Should accidentally fall...there'll be 9 green bottles...sitting on the wall.

Who remembers that song???

**********

Soooo let's see what I did this week.

Monday...viewing.
Tuesday...viewing.
Wednesday...

You get the picture.

And rather than checking blogs (you may have noticed I was not about), I have an array of constantly open Firefox tabs with properties that I plan to book for viewing.

Next week I shall put off the property viewing for a couple of days, and start the week with social activities. On Sunday I will go to see my grandmother in SW London, where I will do a dinner of duck legs, courgettes (zucchini), potato croquettes, followed by carrot cake.

Oh, and how will I spend my Saturday? Seeing a few properties of course (with an old friend who lives up there). Yes, London is so all-consuming that some estate agents stay open all week. Makes sense, as some people work 50 hour weeks. They must do all their grocery shopping, laundry, errands, and sleeping (it's true!) on weekends.

And where have I set my heart on living? Why, near where I used to go to school...An historic hill town just half an hour outside the centre of London on the tube. It still feels like a village but it's not even on the end of the line. You Londoners probably know exactly where I mean now, with all the glaring hints.

Off to peep at a couple of blogs now. Will it be yours? Who knows?


**********

Saturday Update:

Went to see a couple of properties in Harrow with my old friend Angela. I am sorely tempted to go for the luxury block - the flat was small but it had two bedrooms and two bathrooms (a big deal in the UK), and is furnished in contemporary style. It has a designer (albeit compact) fitted kitchen with Neff appliances and granite counters, air conditioning, long balcony, solar activated blinds, roof gardens, concierge, and for residents use of a small gym, sauna, steam room, jacuzzi...It is 5 minutes walk from the station, which is important as it's further out of London, about 20 minutes into the almost-centre.

On second thought, it is more like a kitchen in a cupboard. I kid you not, my walk-in closet in our first apartment in the US (before we got back into 4-bedroom houses) was bigger than this kitchen!

It's not a bad-bad area, I've been in worse, but I didn't feel that great walking about in the shopping centre. I got stared at a lot for some reason and it does feel a bit ghetto. Surrounding this block there are some ugly 1970s office blocks that look like they are about to be converted too. Well, at least it's not an ex-local authority block - they are in depressing 1960s and 70s slabs or towers, and are still pretty dire. Even when refurbished they look sad, and are only slightly less expensive than private "purpose built" blocks.



So there's that. Or a few minutes away in Harrow on the Hill proper is this 2 bedroom, 1.5 bathroom flat:



Which is a part of this house:



(see it's tucked into the right side there and the other photos show it has some surprisingly large spaces.)

Or just round the corner there's this 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom cottage:



Only downside is the two pretty places (haven't booked to see yet) are about a 20 minute walk from the station....Or the bus takes about 5 minutes, but you have to wait up to 15 minutes for it. Ha!

The whole area of Harrow on the Hill is like a village. London is made up of villages, but the ones farther out such as H-on-the-H, Hampstead and Highgate have been able to retain some of their identity and all three are on hills, raised above the grime of the city. The two latter are a bit closer to town and very exclusive as quite a few celebs live there. Harrow on the Hill's claim to fame is the renowned Harrow Boys School which is the second best public school in the UK behind Eton, of course. Old Harrovians of note include Winston Churchill, James Blunt (the singer), Cary Elwes (yes, the actor), more actors James and Edward Fox and Benedict Cumberbatch (mentioned him in a previous blog), Lord Byron and a host of other titled nobility including other former prime ministers and politicians, Jordanian princes, Earl Grey, a Rothschild and two Earls Spencer, some of the Queen's cousins, lords, marquesses, viceroys, dukes, loads of writers, Indian P.M. Nehru, adventurers, spies, industrialists, and so on...I have radar: It always turns out that the actors I find cutest are ex-public school boys (like Elwes and Cumberbatch)...!

It was quiet up there today. I think they were all down in St John's Wood at the cricket test matches.

The lettings agents say I am working with a pretty good budget for outer London, but still, I know that a few hundred more per month would get me more than I can choose from, even closer into town. As it is, I can find a very limited number of fairly decent properties at this distance. If money were no object...ah, but this is London.

So many people in their 30s live at home with their parents because they can't afford their own place, or even sometimes a houseshare. But I don't have that luxury anymore, and my mother is essentially homeless. We give up. We cannot live apart anymore. Independence is overrated, and all we have is each other - we have always been best friends. Even my cousins are disappointed in me for giving up my independence - well, they left home before 18, for many reasons. I, on the other hand, am different. And in the absence of a relationship and little prospect of one on the horizon (God knows I've tried), what else can I do? I am tired of the lonely struggle in the big city. We make each other laugh like no one else apart from my father does, and he is thousands of miles away and rarely calls. I can't have both of them that far away. Like I said, I am tired, and I know my mother is too. In my heart of hearts, I reproach him for putting us both in this very difficult position. Money was never, never, never an issue until our family split up.

Our relationship is such that we impart confidence to each other, and after all we have both been through since the divorce, we haven't lived together. I think we need to do that, so we can heal together too, at last.

Freaky Friday

Bloody hell. Have you ever posted a personals ad online? And depending on the site, got absolutely nothing except on the first day or two when you turn up at the top of the new members list, or a flood of everything the opposite of what you asked for? Including some pretty naff-looking guys, despite their well-written responses. Or one-liners like Joey's "How you doin'?". Or a reply in text-speak from someone who calls himself educated, u no wot i mn. Or barely legible English.

I don't think they actually read my ad...Probably zero in on one phrase, one word, or just the pic.

So what happens to all the smartly turned out cuties I pass in the street?

**********

And have you noticed I'm not averse to discussing the obstacle course of dating now? Some people dedicate their entire blog to it. I'd never do that to you. It would not be cool.


**********

Have you also noticed how in old spy thrillers, the baddies conveniently have no peripheral vision so the goodies can get away with doing stuff in it?

**********
Saturday Update:

So, a day after the ad posting plus a second slightly different one, these are the results:

1) foreigners with barely a smattering of English probably playing a numbers game as they send out a few terrible lines with their phone number and a photo that looks like it was taken in 1983 - either that or some overly sentimental claptrap
2) a copy and paste of their own personals ad, rather than an email to ME
3) a photo with merely the line: if u like this mail me bak
4) old guys who look old
5) English guys with barely a smattering of English
6) more guys playing the numbers game who have sent the same cut and paste reply to both my ads, probably not even realising they replied to the first one
7) one who said it's a shame he was in another country but would think of me when playing with himself
8) hate mail for anything or everything I've said

**********

Oh, and I never hear back from the ones I am really interested in. This is not new, it has been happening for years, and it happens whether I am on my best behaviour or just being myself.

I cannot tell you how fed up I am of the world and everyone in it.

Impressions on a day...

...In Belgravia

It's nice to drive through, walk through, pop in and out of...but working there felt uncomfortable. Like Conrad's "whited sepulchres" in The Heart of Darkness, London's land of embassies is not conducive to residents. And yet, people who are not affiliated with an embassy insist on living there. Today I worked for a solicitor in a big house off Belgrave Square where she lives with her husband, and both work from home. There were attendance notes dealing with the acquisition of a holiday villa in Barbados (they've just spent 3 months there!), with related fees for golf membership, grounds maintenance, seasonal rental, housekeeping, etc. I also typed out the villa inventory.

And just when I started wondering how long they had lived in the house, she asked me to type up a letter to the Grosvenor Estates (holders of the land on which Belgravia sits) about some dispute with the required colouring of the building and joinery. They bought it in 1997 in a state of disrepair, which apparently was the case with much of the non-diplomatic property in that amazing neighbourhood. Imagine, the people living there now are sitting on fortunes.

Still, I thought they had lived there for decades because of the moth-eaten mish-mash, down to the worn corded tassel in the basement loo, the mismatched threadbare antique chairs, the old red pile carpets so thick I tottered on my heels.

**********

Speaking of heels, I was told to dress smartly this morning, so I did. Black heels, black tights, black skirt with wraparound chain belt, and cotton paisley blouse. I don't usually wear heels with skirts for work, preferring flatter heels, though I do attempt them with trousers for some reason. Anyway, it got me groped on my way out of the Tube station this morning. Was passed by a black guy who seemed to be jogging, and before I knew it my rear end had been grasped. I was too shocked to exclaim because nothing like that has ever happened before, not even in Italy. What is the point of it???


**********

So, what did I see today? When I went out for lunch I walked through the gigantic Belgrave Square, where behind nearly every door there sits an embassy, and the only colour against the backdrop of cream and white are the many flags above the porticos. Also, it is the only time I have ever seen a Neoclassical grocery store. I went in there for my very very yummy sandwich: malted grain bread filled with mashed onion bhaji, cucumber, fresh red onion, mango chutney, mint dressing, and fresh coriander leaf. MmmmMMMmmMMmmMMmm, do try it sometime if you live here.


Waitrose at Belgrave Square

When I was leaving, I saw a black Mercedes pull up in front. The driver got up and ran round to let out a typical casually westernised Mideastern lady, you know, with the sunglasses in her hair, tight jeans and pointy snakeskin shoes, and as she strode into the store he literally trotted behind her, leaving the car right...where he...left it... I nearly laughed out loud at the scene. I am sure she didn't carry her own basket, oh no. I imagine she is the wife of one of the ambassadors lurking in the neighbourhood and lifts a finger for nothing.

Behind that Merc was another, and then behind that was a gorgeous gunmetal grey Rolls Royce Silver Cloud, purring as it awaited an opportunity to ooze into the stream of traffic.


The 40-50 year old classic Rolls Royce Silver Cloud

I walked back to the solicitor's house, around the square rather than through it, as this is one of the London gardens reserved only for keyholding residents. No way through that wrought iron fence for me, not like at St James's Square...


Homage to Leonardo in Belgrave Square garden.

She let me sit in the garden. Let me describe this typical London space. It is a patio actually (which is probably why residents need a garden in the square). There are trellisses against the fences, overflowing with all manner of creeping vine and vegetation. There is a deck table and chairs, an outdoor heater like the ones on restaurant terraces, a koi pond, and at the very end the impression of a nymphaeum with a classical statue standing before three mirrored arches. Looking back towards the house with its doors and windows was a black painted iron staircase spiraling down from the first floor, and a juliet balcony on the third (or vice versa). All this in an area about 12 ft by 24 ft, and that's one of the larger London patios!

I prefer a garden ANYDAY. Although quite pretty, this entire house and garden felt like a gilded cage. I think I have been living in the garden suburb of St John's Wood for too long...! And I have never lived without a garden before.

**********

Another reason I dressed smartly is because I was on a standby list for entry to the famed Chinawhite club, but didn't get the call, so after work I took a couple of stops west to Knightsbridge and went shopping at Harvey Nichols. The Food Hall carries an astounding "kick yo' ass hot" snack mix from Arizona. Habanero pepper, say no more. I love it, and have been meaning to go back for more.

I also needed to get my cousin (the charity director) a birthday gift. As she has everything and is quite fussy...I didn't know what to do. I settled on a lead-free pewter jam spoon that hooks onto the ledge of the jar. It very organic and not like anything I have seen recently, but I do think the Baroque metalworkers would appreciate it.




(I think I got her the shell one...)


The gift wrapping was complimentary, and I had a choice of occasional paper or classic silver and white Harvey Nicks with a silver bow. I thought that would complement the spoon nicely, so I chose that. I also had her wrap the book (signed by the authors!) I bought in the Food Hall for [someone I have just realised reads this blog]. I will send that for her [special occasion].



Right, you will hear from me after the weekend. I have a dinner on Sunday and day one at the A.C. on Monday...catch you then!

How does it feel?

So, how does it feel to be 30?
*pinches self*
No different.
Maybe tomorrow, then...

But, everyone keeps saying how different things are going to be from now on, so I say, Bring It On!

**********

This week I am working in an insurance co near Tower Hill. Such big names, I am surprised they haven't asked me to sign a confidentiality agreement yet.

Seriously, I am so close to the Tower of London, I might take my camera and get some late afternoon shots of it.

I can do this work with my eyes closed. I was handing the work back finished about 5 minutes before they gave it to me to do, that's how easy it was. By lunchtime, I had them all caught up on the backlog (they called that a backlog?) and by hometime I had actually run out of things to do, so I left 4 minutes early.

Come on, need a real job now...I am SO done being a secretary.

**********

It was really strange having to spend my big birthday in a new office, unable to check my messages or answer calls. My phone was on silent vibrate, and it was going so much that by lunchtime I was running out of battery and Inbox space!

People came out of the woodwork to wish me happy birthday.

I came home to more messages, emails from people I thought didn't even know about it. I even got a card from UST, sent all the way from Houston and signed by the staff at the office of Alumni Relations.
And a huge bouquet of flowers from Diva and Nags.
My guest list is suffering casualties through illness and lack of funds. No one else had better drop out! This is how my 25th birthday never even got off the ground.


**********

Tonight I met a long lost childhood friend who found me, guess how? She Googled me and found my blog! I had looked for her for years, but she's been married for 8 of them so I couldn't look for the name I knew.

She has the same mannerisms, the same sound - she even looks the same, only filled out because we are now women, and she is a mother.

It is so wonderful to reconnect - Angela, Lydia and I were so close when we were little, and soon we three will have a reunion.

**********

I heard back today from a publishing co regarding an interiors writer. Only thing is now they need some relevant writing samples. You all know I can write about anything under the sun, only I checked with my brain and it told me that although I had written loads about art, antiques, sculptures, exhibitions, literature, castles, volcanoes, deep sea organisms, and quantum physics, I hadn't actually said anything much (yet) about decoration or interiors. *Panic button, where is it?*

OK, this little girl (30 or no 30) has to go to work tomorrow, so it's time for a shower and beddy bye.

Enjoy the warm weather tomorrow, it wil be 19C (68F).
Nite nite!

:P

Oops Easter!

I went out for some lovely easter hymns, came back, called some friends in the US, fell asleep and slept through my dinner slot. I am very hungry but I cannot use the kitchen because my landlady is cooking dinner now.

Yesterday I spent the day out with a cute Australian (originally from Central America) who had the most gorgeous pair of eyes I have ever seen. Seriously. We went for a coffee and a stroll through Green and St James's parks to Westminster, then back again via Trafalgar Square to Piccadilly, where we met his friend (half Spanish, half Greek) who is an even more recent arrival from Oz. We went to a pub in Soho where we were accosted by a homeless druggie; then to dinner in Chinatown; then to another pub in Covent Garden where some "ladies of the night" asked us for directions to Maiden Lane (ah, the irony). It was a long and wonderful day.

Aussies are so cool! Now I know why the Oz guys I have talked to in the past said that if I lived there, I wouldn't be single for long. There is a freshness and sincerity in them that is totally lacking in the pretentious British male with his unrealistic expectations.
These two made me honest, comfortable (as much as you can be with people you've just met), real, and I didn't feel that they were judging me. They accepted me for who I am. After everything I've been through in this city, I needed that.


**********

First spring walk

What a pretty day it was. Although I woke up with a migraine and some deafness (still congested), I decided to get rid of the laundry I haven't done since before I went to Dallas. In the afternoon, I went for a walk in Regent's Park. I love how it's just round the corner from my house, and every spring I take my first uplifting walk through it. The paths were packed because a lot of people get Good Friday off, even though Easter Monday is a public holiday.

I was bombarded with sounds and images and snippets of life:
Tiny green buds on the ends of branches.
Blossom petals on the ground.
Groups of geese flying over the bridge.
Pigeons doing the courtship dance.
Lady feeding the squirrels and a robin joined in after singing in a bush.
Italian greyhound arcing across the pathway at full bound.
Couples of all ages laughing, chatting, holding hands, kissing.
Mixed groups of adults and children kicking a ball around.
I saw a duck dive and not surface for over 10 seconds.
Children on bicycles have no sense of direction.
A football rolled towards me across the path so I stopped it and kicked it (perfectly directed, may I add) back to its owner.

Standing by a bush looking at some tulips and topiaries, I spotted a robbin who popped up from behind a tulip, peeping at me with his big beady eyes and little red breast, so I stayed there and next minute he'd flitted over into the hedge, and a second later he popped out right at my foot! I had my phone out, but was so excited I couldn't turn the camera on without moving. He hopped about for a bit looking cheeky and then flipped over onto a bench. Sweet!



On my way back home, still enjoying all the sensations, I started sniffling and my eyes got sore, so I decided to pick up some allergy tablets. On a rather empty bit of pathway on my way out, I passed a couple of Middle Eastern men in their late 20s-early 30s, bowling about on the pathway like they owned it. As soon as I was level with them, one of them said something that sounded like, "Hi." In the big city, people learn to ignore what other people say sometimes, so I did. Then his mustachioed companion said it louder and his friend said, "Too much". I was at least 5 steps past them by now and still going. Then I imagine they turned around a bit and the first guy said, "Scuse me!" and his companion followed with, "Hello, scuse me!"

I mean, what am I supposed to say? English guys do not do that unless totally drunk. Italians do, but they are kind of laughable. One time I was waiting at the Tube turnstiles for [the first guy I nearly dated when I came to London] when an Italian man standing near me said, "Would you like to go out for a drink?"

How do they come up with that stuff?

So yea, the only attention I get is from [you fill in the blanks] instead of the guys I am interested in. When I am interested in a guy, I only get as far as "being friends". (See rant below, yes it is happening again.) I will let you know if that ever changes.

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