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Showing posts from January, 2017

On the healing power of the Sunday roast

As we headed out of 2016 and into 2017, a tinge of melancholy haunted my blog posts. I’m not sure if this came through in the reading, but it was definitely how I felt in the writing. The blame for this blue period? A combination of winter and a festive season spent away from my parents (oh and the whole now-that-I've-got-a-job-is-the-London-honeymoon-period-over-? situation of last week). This week I thought it time to snap out of it, put my blues in the rear view. And do you know the perfect way to snap yourself out of the sads? A Sunday roast in a British pub. It’s a reason, in and of itself, to pack up your life and move to the other side of the world. To walk into a pub on a Sunday afternoon, whether it be a scruffy dive or a gastro-xtravagana, is to know something delicious and comforting and lovely is about to happen (and probably a hangover for Monday morning but let’s skip that part for now). My most recent Sunday pub roast had the added bonus of being a celebration.

On getting a part-time job

Last year I said farewell to a career I had built over fourteen long, challenging, rewarding and ultimately, fulfilling years. It was a terrifying decision. One I thought would haunt me in the days, weeks and months to follow.  Instead, I tasted the freedom of no longer being defined by a nine-to-five office job, of no longer being trapped by a 'career'. Once I landed in the UK and cobbled together an alternative existence built around writing, walking the streets of London, and having lunch when I felt like it for as long as I felt like it (legit, it's the little things), I waited for the inevitable crack. I absolutely expected that at some point, when I was feeling unanchored, I would long for my old office life. For the routine, for the stability, for the regular salary. The crack never came. I found fulfilment in 100 well-written words and in 10,000 steps walked. I had finally, finally found my true calling. Or, at least, I was happy with this next chapter of my life

On winter in London

It’s easy to love in summer. To love people, the city, life. With sunshine comes vitamin D, longer daylight hours, consistent warmth, the perfect companion to a glass of PIMM’s, blossoming nature and happy, happy humans. Summer makes you want to get out into the world, to never go home, to experience everything. Summer, however, only lasts a few short months. And once it’s gone, and the light begins to fade, and the temperature starts to drop and people give each other furtive glances, you know something bad is about to happen. Yes, winter is coming.

On resolutions

With the beginning of a new year comes the inevitable. The making of resolutions.  As I sat (read: lay-in-bed-all-day-because-I-couldn't-handle-the-thought-of-much-else-thanks-to-the-extremely-fun-new-year's-eve-I-spent-in-various-locations-around-London) watching television programmes such as 'Location, Location, Location', 'Come Dine with Me' and 'A Place in the Sun', I noticed that all the advertisements were attempting to sell me a product or service to aid me in achieving my resolutions for the brand new year. There were ads for job search websites, diet plans, a car advertised by way of the driver proposing to his girlfriend, too many charities to name and holiday home rentals. As I made a mental note to watch 'How to Lose Weight Well' and then quickly dismiss the idea as I put in my order for KFC (read: hangover food from the Gods) with my flatmate, I must admit I did begin to think about what I hoped to achieve in 2017. Wo