***

It’s the hardest thing in the world – starting life again.  I suppose that is a dramatic way to describe it but that is what it truly feels like.  The hardest part right now is the nights.  Every night I lie awake terrified of my impending parting and the morning I’ll wake up alone on the other side of the world with London already becoming a fading memory.  I wonder if this was this hard for the other thousands of NZers who have done this before me.  My old Kiwi flatmate was ready to go home.  She woke up one morning, booked a flight home and as far as I can tell, has never looked back.  I wish I was ready.

It was easier the first time.  I was ready to leave NZ, no doubt in my mind.  When my friend told me she was planning to go to England for a bit, would I like to come along? I said yes without even really thinking about it.  We left 4 months after that conversation.  The hardest part was simply just learning how to live again.  Learning to carry cash because London doesn’t do freaking anything electronically like we do.  Trying to make sense of prices, what supermarkets were called, finding new friends, a flat, a job.  It didn’t take long for everything to click into place.  Initially, I missed a lot of things.  I missed mostly the food in NZ.  I missed my family (sort of).  I missed my best friend and my dog.  I got frustrated at not being able to drink the tap water without getting sick.  I thought it tasted like dishwashing liquid and it certainly felt thicker.  I can’t taste that anymore.

I wonder now what I’ll miss the most from London.  My friends, of course, I’m not looking forward to watching life continue on without me via Facebook.  I’m going to miss Pole Dancing.  I’m going to miss Amazon, the indignity of actually having to leave the house to buy comics depresses me.  I’m going to miss the tube and London’s minimal effort public transport.  I’m going to miss the travelling.  That having something to work for.

In a few weeks I will be starting life again for the second time.  Except this time, I’m not sure that I know exactly how to do it.

Things are tough right now.

Wondering if they’d let me have a go on what has to be the smallest digger I’ve ever seen in my life.  Knowing they’ll say no.

Burning my toes in the shower while I wait for the cold water tap to do its damn job.

Spending money when I know I can’t afford it.  This one holds hands with my Amazon obsession.

Trying to wipe away the smeared grey makeup from under my eyes then realising it’s not makeup, I just look like shit.

My haircut.

The fact that it’s currently impossible to dress according to weather, due to London loving to switch between YAY SUMMER and JUST KIDDING, WINTER AGAIN, LOL within the day.

Surprise anxiety which is caused by nothing.  Does not let up for at least 6 hours.

Finishing a book in two days when it was meant to last me the week.

Trying not to over text my friends about going out.  The waiting game.  TEXT ME.  ARGH, THE GAME IS TOO HARD, I JUST WANT TO BE DRUNK, OK?

That is all.

This post is going to be a disaster. I am sorry, English Language.

Last night we went out clubbing in central London and I attempted, midway, to do my sneaky run off and go home without anyone trying to stop me routine.  I didn’t get very far when I realised my wallet was missing out of my bag.  With all my cards, ID, Boots reward card and £70 of wages in there.   Spurred on by alcohol, I cried and cried and cried as my friends bravely put the call out to my NZ bank for me to cancel my credit card and then to HSBC to cancel my London card.  The wallet itself was a Nightmare Before Christmas collectable, given to me by my parents.

I was so miserable about this this morning, not to mentioned embarrassed by the crying like a 3 year old drama, hey – it’s been a tough week ok? that I didn’t actually turn my computer on till about 4pm.  Sitting in my Facebook inbox was a message that would have actually got me out of bed happy had I read it earlier.

“So yea i found what seems to be your Purse last night. it still has all the cash in it and cards, I work in soho if you would like to meet up and collect it just send me an email.”

Hurray for Londoners who are awesome.

Balls that I’d already cancelled my cards.

In other news…

I watched the Nintendo press conference at E3 yesterday.  I have to say, their games ranged from Sort of Average to AWESOME and back again.  Very, very excited about the Donkey Kong remake and the new Epic Mickey which looks really odd but fun.  I had planned to get an iphone once I head back to NZ but priorities have changed now.  The Nintendo 3DS is my new reason to live.  SO EXCITED, must have one, must have one NOW.

Oh my god there’s going to be one in purple.

My life is not complete until I have one.

Xbox kinect looks stupid.  Just saying.

I wasn’t so great at Art either, for that matter.  We were all give a copy of a simple colouring picture, a man gathering hay, I think.  It might have been something Biblical.  Desperate to avoid the embarrassment of another ugly and Over The Lines piece of work that I’d be forced to write my name on, I carefully selected my crayons in the exact same palette as another girl, who always coloured in the best.  I copied her drawing exactly.  The result was a horribly poor imitation, so much so that no one even realised what I’d done.

Perhaps after lunch we would have Silent Reading and then we would write stories.  This was the part of the day where my childish pride would suddenly take a lift.  I was in the most advanced group for reading and was given special Big Kid Books that were too hard for the other kids to read.  I was smug about this.  Then, the creative writing, which I loved so much.  I would write about fairies and talking animals.  I would write about fantastical worlds that I could see so clearly in my head.  I would force my mother to read them once I’d got home.

Years later, in high school, English was still my best and most loved subject.  After that… I guess it all just dried up.  I kept diaries and mostly spent and free time writing dedicated to life writing.  I still have snippets of conversations between characters in my head, although, I’m never quite certain who these characters are.  I construct situations and small beginnings of story lines and convince myself that they are really rather good and I should probably get back into creative writing at some point.  As soon as my hand touches a keyboard or pen, however, my brain freezes.  I’ve forgotten all those well described scenarios and what comes out is an embarrassing sentence or two, that I agonise over, then delete and forget about.

I’ve decided to start again.  I’m reading up a storm and, shamefully, bought The Artists’ Way as recommended by quite a few friends now.  Who knows, perhaps one day I might actually finish something.

Tonight I would like to not dream about my imminent return to New Zealand.  However, if we have to go down that route for the again for the 100th time this week, can we make it slightly more cheerful.  You’re ruining my day.

Signed, Me.

****

Landlord:  “Right, uh, well, this is quite a serious problem.  I’m going to have to dig up the concrete to get to the pipe.  I can’t do this tonight, will have to be tomorrow morning.  I’ve turned the mains off so no water for tonight.
Me: “How do we go to the bathroom?”
Landlord:  “I…uh…the bathroom?”
Me (helpfully): “Yes, I need to use it.”
Landlord: “Um…well…”

10 minutes of blank staring later

Landlord: “Yes, um…”
Marcelo: “Perhaps we could all pee outside in the new pond on the concrete.”
Landlord is now clearly trying to agree this was a funny joke and not actually a solution.
Flatmate: “Why don’t you tell us how to turn the mains back on and we’ll have pitstops throughout the night.”
Landlord: “Oh, yes, great, good idea”.

ARRRGHHHH

UPDATE:

Just when I think I can no longer hold it in, I trek outside to try turn on the water mains.  I open the wee hatch thing and stare into a pitch black hole in the concrete, trying to get up the courage to stick my hand down there to turn or switch something I cannot see.  The BIGGEST and LONGEST worm I have ever seen in my LIFE comes slithering out and I watch it for a few minutes, dry retch, go back inside and consider killing myself.

Hilariously, the place is situated smack in the centre of the NZ/Australian burbs of Londontown so I saw about 105 people I knew on my first shift.

Pole dancing stuff has been good lately, finally passed an intermediate level and am moving on up.  Getting into the tough stuff now.

Ok, time for an embarrassing confession.  I…bought the latest Pokemon game for DS.  WHAT.  IT’S ONE OF THE MOST POPULAR GAMES EVER.  Admit it, you all have heard of it.  Anyways, I figure that all those people couldn’t be wrong and decided I might as well give it a go.  It has suckered me in.  The best and most shameful part is that it comes with a wee tamagotchi like thingy so you can take your characters out wandering with you.  Amazing!  Even Marcelo looked interested for about 30 seconds.

And of course, Spring is finally on the way.  I know this because my nose is blocked and my eyes are itchy as hell.

OH and ONE MORE THING.  I can see what people have typed into google that brings up this site via some statistics thingy.  I feel sorry for you, person who was looking for “strip clubs in bruges”.  Hahahahaha

Today, on my way home from Belgium, I congratulate myself for getting on the bus so early, for giving myself 2 hours before a flight and  for generally not causing heart stopping anxiety that I usually have whilst running for a plane.

Then I realised that Brussels has two airports and I was at the wrong one.  In fact, the airport I needed to be at was about 15km out of the city centre I just left.  About an hours drive ago.  My first thought was, fuck it, I will just buy a Ryan Air ticket and go home that way.  Then I remembered that Ryan Air doesn’t fly Brussels to London, due to the Eurostar crying it could no longer extort its customers.  BALLS.

I don’t even want to tell you how much the emergency taxi trip to the other airport costed me.  I think I will still be paying that one off long after I get back home to New Zealand.

Crap, I think I’ve turned into one those damn hippie “You have to EXPERIENCE the world” bastards.