London is Totally Worth It

I’m in a bit of a bind with this blog. Can you see the web address? Go have a look at it. See how it has the word Ireland in it? I’m not sure if I am technically allowed to continue writing about my experiences in the UK on a blog that has a (part) Irish address.
Yes, ok, as far as problems go, even as far as first world problems go, this is not a particularly big deal. But, these are the things I spend my days contemplating at the moment. I haven’t really felt like writing much in the last few days and I’m beginning to wonder if its in some way magically and intrinsically linked to the title of my blog.
Well, its either that or that despite being in London, despite there being 10 million other people surrounding me (which, by my calculations makes for at least 10 million opportunities and probably more when you factor in people combinations of groups of two or more), despite the world-famous London sights and attractions, despite the celebrated theatres, the impressive museums, the impending Olympics…. well, I haven’t actually been doing that much of note.
Exhibit A: Last night I drank an entire bottle of red wine and watched ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ on my own, curled up on the couch, smiling to myself and quietly declaring that this was absolutely my favourite film ever because of its very important story which is only enhanced by its (mostly) excellent outfits and wishing I could be made over by Stanley Tucci and emotionally abused by Meryl Streep. I didn’t mean to drink an entire bottle of wine by myself, I’m not actually an alcoholic (or Bridget Jones – though I AM one step closer now that I’m in London! Weeee…), I had bought it thinking I would drink a glass or two and then share it with one or all of my housemates. But they never came home. Well, they did come home, but only after I had drunk the majority of the bottle (I blame the over-large wine glass) and then convinced myself there really wasn’t much left and there wasn’t really much point in saving it, so I may as well drink it anyway and poured that into my glass as well.
Needless to say I’m feeling a little seedy this morning.
Anyway, the point is that after I got my new UK number, set-up my bank account, applied for an NIN number and started sending out my CV to all and sundry, it turned out I didn’t actually have a lot to do. There are only so many jobs you can apply for in one day, only so many job websites you can look at. Especially when they don’t change, no matter how many times you push the refresh button. Some people may enjoy this feeling of having nothing to do and spend their time reading improving books and exercising. I spend it drinking entire bottles of wine on my own and watching bad/good Anne Hathaway movies. I’m healthy when I’m busy, otherwise my underlying anxiety seems to just take over.
Don’t worry, I’m not feeling low about being in London (see the blog title?) But I am at a bit of a loss as to what to do with myself until I get a job. June was so crazy-busy, even leaving Ireland happened incredibly suddenly, I didn’t even get a chance to have a farewell and OMG, I forgot to visit the Book of Kells! So to suddenly land in London on Monday morning, get into my new apartment ridiculously easily, all things considered (all my housemates were already at work) and then be like, ‘OK! I’m ready to….oh. Ummm…. Not sure.’ Mainly I’ve been sitting in Caffe Nero, nursing a 1.90 tea and using their free internet for hours because we haven’t got ours set-up in the apartment yet. I think the very nice baristas don’t really like me very much anymore. Especially since yesterday, after I had sat for hours in their cafe, using their free internet and not ordering anything more, I then went to use the toilet and slammed the bathroom door into one of their faces (in my defence, she was writing on the back of the door, so, like, I couldn’t really help it). In the evening time I have been catching up with a few people or going to London networking-type things with young, hip people (all the women in London are so beautiful and stylish. I’m going to have to up my game) and a few older business people. I got abused by a UK charity store worker for not obeying the change room rules of asking before trying on clothes, which seemed like such a hilariously British thing to get worked up about (You didn’t follow the rules! You didn’t get permission!) that I didn’t even really mind being yelled at. I did go to see a little theatre show on Friday night at the Blue Elephant Theatre, which was very sweet. Didn’t change my life, but enjoyable enough.
So, I’m glad that I’ve found something with which to fill my time. Its called ‘You Me Bum Bum Train’ and I can’t tell you anything about it (seriously, I signed a non-disclosure agreement. And I feel lik breaking a non-disclosure agreement on a public blog would sort of be like ending your vegetarianism by going out, killing a bison with your bare hands and a knife and then eating it whilst its innards were still warm. ‘Eugh. That seems an unnecessarily gruesome comparison, Jenny.’ ‘Indeed. I blame the bottle of red from last night, Jenny’ ‘Going to take it down?’ ‘Nope, pretty happy with the gruesome comparison, to be honest.’ ‘Hope no-one’s eating reading your blog and eating breakfast.’ ‘Me too.’ ‘Well, as nice as this extended segue has been, shall we get back to the point?’ ‘Well, ok, I guess, if you’re going to get all narky about it….’). ANYWAY, what I can tell you about ‘You Me Bum Bum Train’ (apart from the fact that it is an absolute joy to say and seems to work even better in a really broad Aussie accent and/or Kath and Kim accent – we’re talking original Kath and Kim here, Americans) is that it involves my voluntary labour now and later it involves me performing, so I’m excited about that and the people involved are excited about the number of hours I have, at this point in time, committed to spending with them. Oh, the joys of unemployment. But, still, in terms of things that I could commit my unemployed life to, I feel that an interactive theatre piece (don’t worry, that’s been used in publicity descriptions before, no dead bison here) is probably a better thing to devote my time to, then, say, daytime TV and ‘The Real Housewives of Orange County’. Ok, so its not getting junkies off the street or giving out food at a soup kitchen (hmmm… maybe I should do that…), but its worthwhile, its active, its creative, it encourages me to get out of bed, get dressed and head out further into the city of London than the Caffe Nero that is 5 minutes down the road.
Speaking of which, its probs time I got up and got going.

If we measure in terms of number of visits and time spent in a place, Caffe Nero at Clapham Common would appear to be my favourite place in London so far. Caffe Nero or my new bed, which has a view of my street. Found at: http://www.citikey.co.uk/display/caffe-nero-QRW1Z
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