The emotional storm after the calm

---

Well it’s been awhile hasn’t it? It’s fair to say that in 3 weeks, it feels like I have had the experiences of a lifetime, or at very least those worthy of a couple of months. Life has happened all very quickly, and in the blink of an eye, I have found myself living and working in Brighton (well technically Hove) on the UK southern coast! But there is soooo much to tell, so let me digress and go through it all, as I want to document how I felt about ALL of this, so yes, it may be long, but hopefully it will be a decent read, and maybe soon at least there will be photo’s for you all to view
I finished my tour on the Sunday, and woke up with the highest level of anxiety I had felt prior to my departure, it was a weird blend of being sad to leave those I had travelled with for a month (Marianne, Michelle, Megan, Olly and my makeshift big sister Jen). But more excitingly I was off to begin my new life in the UK. A whole new chapter that was there waiting for me to pick up the pen and write in. Ahhhh the delusions of grandeur, the extravagant lifestyle I would lead, all the fab jobs, men, shopping, friends, restaurants, bars - you get the picture. Naïve? Well of course! I didn’t think that it would all fall into place immediately, but I thought I would fall into my old lifestyle, blending with the better bits of UK fairly quickly.
Oh how wrong that all felt within 2 days of my arrival. The first night was great - Liz was there to pick me up at the airport, and I was whisked down to her parents house for a home cooked meal (thank the lord), whilst very carefully carrying my prized bottle of Moet and Chandon (courtesy of a final duty free shopping rampage in Vienna).
The next morning was a quick stop at the dry cleaners, then into Guildford, Surrey (where Liz lives) to go get some additions to the corporate wardrobe for the interviews at agencies starting Tuesday morning. Emma (also from back home, and also settled in Guildford) met up with me to assist in these delights, and then it was time to go check out Sainsbury’s (a UK supermarket akin to Coles).
It was here that the first glimmer of homesickness raised its very ugly little head in 7 weeks. I began to feel quite lost, and a little out of my depth. Emma thought I was ready to freak out on her right there in the middle of the aisle, so she quickly whisked me down to the aisle that held the Holy Grail (no NOT the Da Vinci Code) - the beautiful black gold from home - Vegemite! Calmly with this in hand I was ready to face the rest of the week, and anything the UK could throw in my direction…… or so I thought..
That was until I went to my Michael Page (recruitment agency of evilness) registration and interview. Bright eyed, freshly pressed, full of youthful enthusiasm, and a confident assuredness in my talents and skill from back home I made my way into their office. I left dishevelled and distraught that I had committed career suicide. They had me feeling that my experience was shyte, my interviewing skills were shyte and that basically I was far to ‘sales’ like in my pitch…. I am sorry but till now I thought I was supposed to sell my skills in an interview.. hmmm? Apparently not according to those serfs of Lucifer! I walked out with a full blown case of homesickness and an overwhelming desire to run with my tail between my legs. Yes, I thought I was made of stronger stuff, but apparently at that point I wasn’t. Later on reflection showed that yes I was homesick, but I was also incredibly tired from travelling, stressed to the max, and suffering from PMS. It was never gong to be a great experience.
Luckily I got a phone call from Rob, a familiar voice from home that afternoon. He was coming down to Guildford to visit for the afternoon. Ahhhh someone from home to allay this homesickness was exactly what I needed. Had a great afternoon, and started into my first English pints of Stella Artois (also known affectionately here as ‘Wife Beater’). Several pints later, and all the familiar feeling of home, my concerns seemed to have become blurry, well at least for a couple of hours. But when I put him back on the train the homesickness was worse than ever. I had just said goodbye to another friend, and a connection to my life at home. Oh would this end?
Cue: English hangover # 1, which was lived through and the next day it was time for the next round of agency interviews with Hudson Resourcing (the emotional equivalent of purveyors of purgatory). It was the first jaunt back into London town, and into their offices for a 9 am meeting. Whilst I felt much better about my skills in this interview, my closing question of ‘how long on average would it take to get placed?’ was met with a view that ‘on average it takes about 6 weeks to get placed in a temp/contracting role through Hudson’. Arghhhhhhhhhh I didn’t have the time or money to do that. What was I to do? Unfortunately I met with another friend from home, Mini, that arvo, and whilst the homesickness effect wasn’t as bad (because I knew that she was staying in London), I don’t think I was very good company. All I could think about was how could it take 6 weeks to get a job. Would I have to do secretarial temping or bar work to get through? When would I start to feel settled, and not cry everytime I spoke to my parents?
It was the weekend, and the beginning of English Hangover from hell #2. It was my first Saturday night, and I was going to the School Disco in Hammersmith with Liz and her friends. Who by the way, are just soooo nice, cool, awesome - you know all the typical superlatives to describe really nice, welcoming people. But we weren’t just going to the school disco; uh-uh we were going in full school uniform. Well a uniform that resembles what would even make the cheekiest of the St Trinian’s girls blush! Hmmm think if FHM or Ralph did a naughty schoolgirl edition and you are starting to get the idea! Trust me, photos of this cheeky escapade will follow!
So we went around to Suze and James’ place to rendezvous with the entire ‘class’ for a mid-afternoon drinking session of Pimms and Lemonade in the hot afternoon summer sun before we got changed into our uniforms. And what a drinking session we had. Pimms, Champagne, White wine, Gin, various shooters and some very deadly and potent mixed drink of unknown origins. I can’t believe that we were even able to get dressed through all of this haze. By the time the mini bus taxi arrived, we were gone. Officially I remember going into a bar before the disco, queuing for the disco, entering the Hammersmith Palais, and some brief dancing and the exchange of lollies in the most unsavoury manner. There after is completely and utterly erased from my memory. If you had asked me to say how long we were there, with my hand on my heart I would have said 1.5 hours, not apparently the 4 hours we were there for. Hmmmmmmm it has been years since I have actually suffered from blackouts and memory loss! All apologies to the Grandparents right now………….
I came through ever so quickly when I realised that my entire group had been unable to find me and had left for home! Oh no! My mobile phone had died, and I was too far-gone to know what to do. Calmly I asked a random stranger if I could pop my SIM into their phone, thankfully they obliged and I was able to obtain the address of where I was to go - Twickenham, a £30 taxi ride. Cool, no worries, have done many a taxi ride alone before. Oh how wrong I could be! The taxi driver had no idea of how to find the address, £30 soon became £40, and still no joy with the address - in hindsight the guy was completely useless and taking advantage of the situation. He soon became terse, ‘Why don’t you know where you are going? Where are you from?’ Meekly through the alcohol infused flood of tears I was able to flap back that I was from the other side of the world, and I had no idea where I was.
Finally we found the address, not before though he demanded that I pay him more money. When I told him that I had no more, he dropped me in front of an ATM and suggested that I go get more out or he would abandon me! So at £70 (the most expensive cab trip of my life), I found Liz and Sue. I would like to say that I was so cool, but instead I was a mess of tears when I got in, and it seems that my only saviour was a Bacon sandwich caringly made for me by Sue!!!!! The rest of the weekend was spent sleeping!
Monday was here and it was time for another jaunt into London to speak to another agency - Witan Jardine (my heavenly angels)! Finally an agency that valued all of my experience, my professionalism and my personality! They were here to get me placed in a job! And that they did, by Friday of the same week; they had me placed here at Legal & General, Brighton! The interview was great, and the position seems solid, and gives me that all-important ‘UK based experience’ that seemingly every employer wants. Plus it was a lifestyle decision to try something a little different to the London scene, and still enjoy an ‘uber-cool’ café, bar, restaurant, theatre, activity scene!
What else can you do to celebrate a new job than go on another bout of drinking and being totally, sodden inebriated I ask you? Well I didn’t have any answers, and I was well chuffed with that idea! So it was back to Suze and James for a ‘ladies only’ type of party plan night and English Hangover #3. Think lot’s of leather, batteries and pheromone potions, mixed with too much champagne, pizza and chocolate cake! Oh the humanity and drunken debauchery of it all. There was late night twister, truth or dare - errr you start to get the picture. I think we passed out somewhere around sunrise. At least on this weekend, all we had to do on Saturday was get up and go to Liz’s parents house, from there we went and spent the day asleep at Calshot beach. Then back to their house for more sleep.
By Sunday I was sorted. But there was so much to happen in the next days. That afternoon, I moved into temporary accommodation in London that I had arranged before I ever conceived the Brighton position. But luckily for me, it was in the South of London, and possibly the best place to commute to Brighton from. In theory it should only take 40 minutes from Clapham Junction to Brighton on a fast train. But that theory doesn’t hold when you realise that those trains don’t start until around 9am, its more like 1 hour 40 minutes! So moved into my little antipodean’s abode on Sunday and started at L & G on Tuesday (with 5.30am wake up calls)! I had to find accommodation in Brighton quick smart as far as I was concerned.
After many phone calls, and leaving messages all in vain, I discovered a corporately run house share in Hove (an exclusive inner suburb of Brighton). After a quick interview and look around the place, it was settled that I would move in the following Monday - no need to waste time, I needed more regular sleep! You know, the whole sleeping beauty theory, well at this juncture I was starting to look more like Cruella De Ville on speed! So job offer on Friday, start work on Tuesday and move into new home the following Monday - my life had begun in England, and it all happened in the quickest possible manner! But it is relieving that I can finally begin to lay down roots rather than feel like I am circling on the periphery somehow waiting for it all to start.
So on Monday this week I left Clapham at 5.30am with my entire life packed on my back - it was just me, my backpack, a full daypack, a granny shopping trolley (holding my doona, or duvet as they prefer to call it here) and a Marks and Spencer bag full of my clothes. It was no mean feat I assure you now. So many people marvelled that it was even possible. I assured everyone, where there is a will there is a way, although it was embarrassing to carry it all through reception and sit next to my desk all day. One of my colleagues made the comparison between a snail and I - we both live with our lives on our back! But low and behold I moved into the house with just enough time to see Thorpedo win the 200m over Phelps and Van Den Hoogenband! Definitely taken as a positive sign from above JSo here I am, and it’s all about settling in now! I am excited, and busy trying to organise friends to spend weekends in Brighton with me. Still it’s all daunting, as there is no security blanket, and I am out there exposed on the wire, but I am finally confident that it is all going to be sweet. And when it’s not, you can be sure that I will be eating enough vegemite sandwiches to keep a footy team going! Up until now it has been fun, naughty, daunting, scary and amazing all at once. But from here on in, I plan on keeping this diary going, logging all of the fun and frivolity, as well as the mini-breakdowns and nerves. Think of it as a Sex in the City meets Bridget Jones type of column! Until then, love to you all, you now know that I miss you all terribly and keep those emails coming!

---

Photos

My house!!
I live right up the top there!

Butter wouldn't melt!
Liz and I doing our very best FHM impressions!

Because I am me!
Just to prove I at least am to be a classy drunk!

Striking out alone
My first paid for abode in Clapham Junction. Mum note the bedspread and what would match!

Comments

[skipperit]

wow
beatiful photos and cool travels