spring, sprung etc

Lazypantses post right here...would like to say I've been out enjoying springtime in London, but actually that's only been about 1 day in the last 4.  The rest have been sacrificed to vanity (my hair!  It is blonde all the way up!), and work (even if I've relaxed a little since, you know, that whole resigning bit).

This post is so lazy, I haven't even had time to frig with the filters, settings etc of these basic pictures snapped on ye olde smartphone on a walk round Southwark Park on Sunday.  I would say that what you're seeing is ACTUAL gloriousness of weather, flowerbeds, co-operative swans etc., but I'm afraid have been so lazy I even sent them to meself in lo res.  Afraid they leave something to be desired in terms of composition too but that's as may be.  I'll work on it.

BERMONDSEY WILDLIFE AT THE ENTRANCE TO SOUTHWARK PARK.  NO, NOT THE LADY.  THE STUFFED TIGER ON TIGER AND GIANT GORILLA IN THE TREES.  MY NEIGHBOURHOOD IS SO WEIRD, I LOVE IT

SHIT PHOTO OF AMAZING SWAN CO-OPERATION IN NEST BUILDING.  I THOUGHT SWANS WERE SHITHEADS BASED ON THEIR TERRORISM ABILITIES BUT NOW I LIKE THEIR TEAM SKILLZ. 

GOD I HOPE THEY DON'T COME AT ME IN PAIRS NEXT TIME.

DAFFIES AND STRUCTURED BEDS.  A VERITABLE *RIOT* OF COLOUR

THE SHARD AND RAILWAY TO LONDON BRIDGE.  BROWNS, GREYS AND GORGEOUS BLUE

not so fast

After the over-hyped drama of the last post, I've come back to reality, sort of. 

My contract has the longest notice period known to mankind (well, three months) so we're going to be kicking around Londontown for a little bit longer anyway.  During the moping that occurred the evening I resigned (I got half-cut after work with a colleague which contributed to the WOE, WOE IS ME, WE ARE LEAVING FOR THE BACK END OF THE KNOWN UNIVERSE session P and I had on the couch), we decided that there are a few things we should, nay, must do before we leave the UK.



SOUTHWARK PARK, AUTUMN.
AND YES, I KNOW IT'S SPRING NOW.  I DIDN'T HAVE A REASONABLE SPRING ONE ON MY PHONE. 



·         Tower of London.  I walk past the Tower every weekday and yet I have never been.  Hordes of tourists though; v. offputting.  There are queues I can handle and queues I can't - at the bank, sure, to be expected.  To see the Crown Jewels, oh fuck off. 

·         British Museum.  I heart the Reading Room, dimly recalled from a visit at age 19.  You know, interesting old stuff. 

·         Restaurants: MOAR PLZ.  P's sole concern is leaving behind the food mecca of Europe.  I had to try hard to remind him that we have the opposite type of food-awesome in Aotearoa: fresh snapper caught off the back of the boat on the barbie, which? One of the greatest food experiences known to humankind (humble opinion, etc.).  We're supposed to be dining at Pearl in Holburn tonight thanks to a lovely wedding gift from friends (subject to P's burgeoning illness, the symptoms of which have been checked and analysed on an hourly basis: "Do you think it's because my back is out?", "Oh god, my throat hurts like it might be....swollen, or something".  I ventured to suggest that P is just always sick and to my surprise P readily accepted my diagnosis.  Self awareness, he has it...sort of!).

·         Pimms.  I need to DRINK ALL THE PIMMS before departure.  I know that Pimms is just sexified gin, but really? I love gin too so no problems there! Related news: we're going to queue overnight for Wimbledon tickets this year, hoping to check some centrecourt action.  I've seen Rafa pull out his wedgie in person at the US Open, but there's nothing like watching it with a Pimms and perhaps some strawberries and cream in hand. 

·         Park days.  The sun comes out, the Brits get nekkid and sunbathe in the park, consuming tasty treats and iced bevvies.  I swear they judge you on the quality and shade of your tartan picnic rug.  Only the best weaved basket will do.

·         Theatre.  For this drama queen?  MOREMOREMORE!

·         I'd like to go back to the National Portrait Gallery for another wander.  It's such a beautiful resource: for a donation, you can wander to your heart's content eyeballing gorgeous, story-filled paintings. 

·         Columbia Road Flower Market: can't believe I still haven't been!  Maybe that's tomorrow morning's task for a few fresh stems for my dining room table - something other than supermarket daffies might be called for!

And so much more besides.  I'm sure we will be adding to the list as well as subtracting. 

AND SOON, IMMA BE WORKING ON A LIST FOR OUR TRIP ROUND THE MED AND INTO ASIA.  OOOOO YEAH, THE DEEP BLUE MEDITERRANEAN.  I LOVES IT.

PS THIS IS SORRENTO.  THAT IS NOT MY BOAT.

i resigned today

I resigned today.  I cried in my boss's office and she made me a cup of tea.  This is what I'm going to miss about the UK.

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

I am drained, devoid of real feeling.  Cliche alert: this has been a very difficult decision for P and I.  We've been really happy here in London. 

Sure, we've been unhappy too - I do not look back on my days of unemployment and the long commutes before we moved to a reasonably located suburb fondly.  I recall interview after interview where the feedback was good but there was also a suitably qualified English candidate.  I remember being miffed when no one bothered to introduce themselves in the break room at the office when I was new.  I remember the perma-dark of winter.  I remember the prickles over my scalp when I thought I'd made a crucial, vital mistake at work. 

But on the whole, London has been great. 

We have friends here.  Not just a bunch of expats either - P and I have made friends including colleagues and neighbours who we will be sad to say goodbye to.  Crack the facade and these people are NICE, you know?  Once you've introduced yourself and shown an interest, they share a cuppa with you, ooh and aah over pictures of your ridiculously cute nephew, commiserate at the end of a long week with a beer at the pub.  There is Pimms in the summer.  Europe is on the doorstep.  There are always twinkly lights during the winter hours of darkness.

I can't believe we've made the call (we had our reasons - career, families, lifestyle, effect of soft NZ water on my hair blahblahblah).  But we have, and now I face a walk to work each morning with the knowledge that we're getting closer to a big change. 

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

So, New Zealand.  We're headed home, once we've worked out our notice and travelled a while.  You haven't been home for years, but you will be soon.  I've missed you, god knows.  In all of your crappy traffic'd, small communitied, terribly inflected glory.  With all of your thunderstorms, bright sun, vivid colours and Pacific humidity. 

AOTEAROA: THE LAND OF THE LONG WHITE CLOUD.  AND EXCELLENT FLAT WHITE. 
VIA NASA SATELLITE THANKS TO WIKI.  THIS IS 23 OCTOBER, 2002. 
GOD I HOPE IT STILL LOOKS LIKE THAT. 

weekend rundown

Yeah, so.  I had a weekend one time and it wasn't long enough.  Same old story really.

I trudged out of work at roughly 4pm on Saturday, distinctly unenthused about the prospects of joining a St Patrick's day pub crawl that my husband and friends had begun four hours previously.  I was snotty about having had to work on the weekend and also disappointed in myself for having lacked the fortitude to just get up and get it done that morning.  As I sat on the tube across town, being juddered by the godawful suspension on the Bakerloo line (Bakerloo: fucking awful you guys!  Who'd live in the NW? Oh yeah, it's quite nice up there, I'll give you that), I began dreading the boozy hugs and enforced games of "catch up" on joining the crawlers.  Once I surfaced and came back into cell reception, I received a message informing me that the crawl had moved on and accordingly, I'd left the tube at the wrong stop.  Probably not a bad thing, to be fair: some time out for Mrs GrumpyPants while I walked to the destination was completely necessary. 

Contrary to all prior indicia, I had a fab time.  I caught up with friends I haven't seen in what feels like donkeys' years, drank free Guinness (no Kilkenny on tap, for SHAME pubs of Kilburn!), gobbled free Irish stew, sang along to terrible Pogues' covers and generally embraced the occasion.  No real scandal of note, afraid to say.  Spent a ridiculous amount of time with P in a fried chicken joint somewhere in Queen's Park at the end of the night (good food decisions: I make them) and woke up feeling manky.  What more can a girl ask for?

Looked for photos of the night on my phone to show you, Invisible Readers - turns out the only thing I apparently thought worth photographing was the arrangement of multiple receptacles for the water that was fair pouring through the roof of the final pub onto our table.  I am a muppet.  All those lovely smiling faces in excellent green novelty outfits and I come up with this: 

KWALITY PICTURE TO ACCOMPANY KWALITY POST.  NOTE USE OF RECEIPTS AND BUSINESS CARDS IN ORDER TO PREVENT SPLASHBACK, THE WATER WAS COMING IN THAT HARD. 

st patrick's day

Trust you're all having (had) a good one.  I am feeling the desperate need for a pint of Kilkenny right now...

THANKS WIKI.  YOU KNOW HOW TO TAKE A SEXY BEER PICTURE.

Regale you all later with episodes from the saga of 'A Binge Drinks During Pub Crawl in Celebration of Heritage She Doesn't In Fact Have'. 

Kisses!

working on my pout

The major exciting news of the day is that I bought two lipsticks when dropping into the chemist for a box of tissues on the way to work.  Two cheap, bottom of the line lipsticks.  One in coral and one in red.  Impulse purchases, along with some control top tights and vitamin C because I'm glamourous that way. 

See this picture?

FROM STYLE MOGUL.  INFINITELY MORE STYLISH THAN ME.

Yeah?  Well.  The lipsticks I bought are not these brands and they are likely not those colours either.  I don't know why I can't commit to investing a decent sum in make up like the products shown above but apparently Maybelline is as fancy as I'm ever likely to get.

OH YEAH that's right - I can't commit in investing in anything decent because I'm cheap and I'm shit at applying facecake.  Don't tell me practice makes perfect because I don't really practice.  Lazy aye? 

I noticed on arrival in the UK that English lassies all like to wear a proper face at work and out to town on a Saturday night which? Fair enough.  But my version of day to day is mascara and, more often than I'd like, crappy concealer smeared over a spot.  For a flash night out, I might add some lip gloss and a spot of wonky eyeliner.  For a big meeting with real adults at work, I might slap on a bit of muted-colour lipstick (once a year perhaps?).  So my daily beauty routine can hardly be called "practicing".

Before the fabulous-month-long-February-holiday, I'd got into the zone a bit with making an effort.  And by that I mean trying to use foundation and having my eyebrows waxed on a semi-regular basis.  That went out the window within a week of arriving in New Zealand when I burnt my nose and my skin tone suddenly no longer matched the shade of English Rose foundation I'd been using.  You might say I gave up trying immediately after my wedding; poor, poor wee P.  Cursed with a wife who no longer makes an effort. 

After having made the arduous selection of tissues this morning ("Is the lily-box too funereal? Or do pink and orange gerberas just scream 'hayfever'?" THESE ARE THE BIG ISSUES, GUYS.  I GRAPPLE WITH THIS SHIT ON THE REGULAR - MY LIFE IS A VERITABLE SHITFEST OF HARD DECISIONS), I decided to "up my game" (HAHAHAHHAHAHA) and buy some new lipstick.  Adults wear lipstick!  I can too!  Trendy people wear coral and red!  I can be trendy too! 

I was completely wrong about that last - that picture was the first image result for my 'coral lipstick' image search.  It came from a beauty trend report that is nearly 9 months old - you guys, I'm so ON TREND you know?   JC on a piece of toast, everyone has probably moved to magenta or some shit while I'm still experimenting with a five quid coral throwaway. 

So, that is pretty much as exciting as March 14 2012 is as likely to get and isn't it just awesome to be me?  If any one out there (echo…echo...) has views on/experience with coral lipstick or suggestions other than a paper bag for my beauty routine, I'm all ears! 

that time i got married

Right.  Hope that last one wasn't too awkward.  Let's mend fences with a topic that usually makes people feel a bit mushy, shall we?  Skip this, if you don't fancy a trip through saturated, overwrought and self-indulgent recollection of an event you didn't witness and perhaps only want to see photographs of.

P and assistants had spent the morning artfully arranging the bunting I so desired in trees at the venue.  My mother had strewn the aisle with the petals of roses from her garden and the gardens of my great aunt, our family friend and my mother's friend's business's garden (they got a completely illicit thrill gathering the petals from the business as they did so after dark and assumed everyone around thought they were burglars.  Who knew this business of flower harvesting was so darkly entertaining?). 

THE BLUE BITS OF THE BUNTING.  GOD I LOVE THAT BUNTING EVEN IF IT IS A CURRENT WEDDING-DETAIL-CLICHE. 
ALSO: IS IT ANNOYING THAT I USED THE *MOST* IMPORTANT PHOTO TO ILLUSTRATE THIS STORY? PROBABLY. ALL IN THE NAME OF TRYING TO PRESERVE A TOUCH OF ANONYMITY. 

I spent the morning getting beautified with my mother and sister, periodically squinting out the window at the weather, while P and friends battled with lemon and blue gingham bunting.  I wish I could have seen them - there is almost nothing more genuine, touching and funny than grown men doing battle with aesthetic principles for a good cause!

The moment I arrived at the venue, the heavens opened.  I watched through the trees from the car as people hustled inside to the alternative ceremony location (the tasting room of the winery, how appropriate for this relationship).  I had been so calm up until that point, but at that moment I felt so terribly, terribly sad that I couldn't have what I'd been imaging: a wedding surrounded by trees followed by hugs and champagne in the sunshine.  The minute I stepped out of the car, it didn't matter.

What I did have was a wedding indoors, with those I loved surrounding us closely, able to hear all the words.  The side doors of the venue were open with the trees crowding in.  Leftover petals had been hastily strewn over the exposed concrete flooring.  I clutched Dad's hand tightly and sweatily, overjoyed. 

My boss said to me that the most clear recollection of her wedding, some years ago, was the church doors opening.  Everyone turned to look to her, and in that moment she was filled with the joyous realisation that everyone had come to celebrate with her and her new husband.  I thought of her in that moment.  I felt like there was time to look into everyone's eyes and smile, filled with exaltation that this was happening, that they were there and mirroring my joy.  And then I saw P. 

He was standing at the front, under a mirror that reflected our friends and family and my own beaming face.  It's not fair to describe his face; a private, private moment witnessed by those we love dearly. 

I am not a religious person; our civil ceremony was not long.  I had believed that I did not need a legal tie to seal our union.  What I underestimated was the power of words. 

It was the highlight of the wedding for me.  My sister's reading, selected partly to gently laugh at the idea of a reading and partly for sentimental reasons, caused my girlfriends to have to share the one square of toilet paper they had between them.  She read beautifully through her tears and I was so proud.  It transpired that the reading also meant a great deal to P's paternal family; unbeknownst to us, we had connected our wedding to a family member long gone. We so dearly wished we could have met him; serendipitous that we included him anyway. 

Our vows.  I had felt like a moron suggesting to P that we write our own.  But I'm so, so glad that we did.  He was funny, sincere and truthful.  So funny, sincere and truthful that in fact I forgot myself and planted a kiss on him after he spoke them.  I revelled in mine; I had not realised that saying those things out loud would mean so much. 

There was more, so much more.  But that's all for now.