All Holidays Come to an End, I Suppose

So it's a workin girl I am. After about 4 months of retirement, I have rejoined the workforce, somewhat begrudgingly. Today is my first day alone at the hostel - 12 hour shift to start things off. All is good so far. This job is really a joke compared to the average day at Foley though. First of all I'm not allowed to leave the reception area vs the 10k run done in an average Foley day. Second of all, well... frankly that alone dictates a massive difference in the amount of work in one day. No laundry, no cleaning, no buzzer, no showing guests around, nothing.

So I like this job, it's easy. It's a filler. I think the hardest part will be to NOT say "at the hostel I used to work at, we did ..." This is a nice place, particularly considering the location and competition, but it's no BBH. NZ ruins its backpackers by spoiling them like crazy. To go anywhere after is a bit of a let down really.

In the meantime I continue the hunt for a day job. I would half like to get into a real job where I had to like, you know use my brain like. It would be a lot easier to search for one if I had any idea what I wanted to do with my life... Would you like fries with that?

Other than, no real adventures to report. I was walking home one night and saw a police blockade ahead, but didn't see any action, so kept walking towards it. There were 'bobbies' all around but nothing happening. Then I figured it out... they were in front of a rather regal building with numerous ritzy cars circling and the Union Jack & Italian flags flying (some Italian dude's in town) ... Lizzie was having a party!!

After seeing the glitz, glam and absolute fortune being spent on security alone, I continued walking to see numerous homeless people making their beds for the night. In doorsteps, behind cardboard boxes, in stairwells, anywhere warm. The contrast of the two was extraordinary in a truly awful sense.

Bloody marmite

These foolish English people eat this awful marmite by choice. It's a disgusting sodium spread... it's a black paste that tastes like salty tar. It's worse than it's competitor vegemite... ughhh. Yuck.

Regardless of my opinion, these people eat it constantly and it is the 'spread of choice', resulting in a complete lack of peanut butter options. Bad peanut butter is just not acceptable. I know I should be accepting of this cultural difference and try to embrace it, but I've been there, done that and still want the peanut butter.

Pop round for tea

Since Buckingham Palace is just around the corner from me (well a couple corners, but not far regardless) and the flag is back up that Lizzie (excuse me, Queen Lizzie) is in residence (her flag flys when she's there, the union jack when she's not), I think tomorrow would be a good time for tea. It's been ages since we've seen each other. And I have to keep her posted on all the happenings in the colonies!

I wonder though, do they have to change the flag when she just goes to have a 'natter' with her gal pals or pick up some milk at Sainsbury's, or is it only when she goes off to stay somewhere else? This roving reporter will bring you all the scoop...

Right so... last night I lucked out and had a room to myself which was so fantastic - I could actually sleep! Each of the 5 previous nights someone in the room would crank the heat and close the window. It was hot. But, being the investigative reporter that I am, I can tell you exactly how hot. (I actually do have a thermostat on my alarm clock). It ranged between a high of 28 degrees to a low of 24 degrees. What is normal room temperature, 20 degrees? and to try and sleep in this... produced a smelling sweat pit of thrashing sleepers. So last night it worked out that I had a room to myself (with the heat off anf the window WIDE open) and I actually got some sleep!! It was the first night in over a week that I had proper rest. nothing better than a good night's sleep.

My goal for today was to meet with a recruitment agency or 2 to line up some work but I slept late, then enjoyed the freedom of getting ready in my room (not a cramped, damp shower stall) and didn't really get moving til almost noon. I decided it would be a good idea to poke aroound my neighbourhood, then I walked towards city centre (taking every side street possible) and made my way to Parliament square (sitting between Westminster Abbey, the Parliament and our fave fella, Big Ben) for a picnic lunch. My wandering eventually took me through Trafalger Square where I contemplated going to the national gallery but, due to the massive amounts of student groups mixed with an oncoming cold/burning sinuses (quite possibly due to the pollution as I have had 1 eye watering insistently all week) I decided against it. My thoughts have just been too distracted the past week trying to get mself sorted out, to want to do too much touristy stuff. In fact, my camera has yet to even come out of my backpack.

So instead I went to see Million Dollar Baby. It was excellent. I'm with the Academy on this one. And then I went shopping. I couldn't help it. All I see aare these posh & polished Londoners, looking down on me, the scabby foreigner. I just had to get a little something. Dorothy it was. Dorothy Perkins is my favourite store in the world. Learn this, as she will be mentioned increasingly often. I only bought a little and it was all marked down. And they are officially the coolest jeans I have ever owned. (I can sense Shannon's excitement as she knows that eventually they will be hers).

Now I need boots. I had a heartbreaking moment today. A few days ago I found them.The boots I have always been looking for. The ones that were destined to be mine. I knew it as soon as I saw them. They were perfect. But I walked away. If I was to put a deposit down on a flat than it couldn't be. Not yet anyway. But I don't need to put a deposit down. and I just don't have any shoes to wear with the 2 skirts I brought. These boots made the skirts. So I went to admire them today. Finally I broke down and asked for my size. Sorry, only unhumanly small sizes for petite little blondes who have their pick of any boots left. I was broken hearted. Here I thought they were the ones. I was so sure. And I was so wrong.

Sorted!

I've got a place to live AND a job! And I didn't have to even go far... I'm working the reception desk at the hostel! Sound familiar? So as part of that, I get to stay in staff accomodation ( a room shared with 2 other female staff) and am nice and close to downtown.

I wasn't sure if I was ready to go back to full time hostel life yet, but this has just worked out so nicely I can't refuse. It's not quite full time hours - M-F 5pm-8pm and 8am-8pm on Saturday - so I am going to look for something else too for the days. But it gives me a nice starting point without having to jump into a job & flat I'm not sure about. Most flats run at about £70 per week, plus a £200-£300 deposit. Now times all that by 2.4 to get the Cdn value... a hefty start off fee.

I'm going to do a few hours training this week and then Saturday I do a 12 hour shift on my own. And the hostel is already booked out for the weekend. Hello deep end, so we meet again. I just pray no one pisses on the carpet this time.

Beware of tequila drinking Greeks

Not too much excitement... have been spending vast amounts of time at internet cafes, applying for jobs, looking for a home, etc. I got a mobile phone yesterday... anyone with texting (or even old fashioned talking) abilities I am +44 77 8674 8559.

Yesterday wasn't great weather and I was running on low energy, so I went back to playing one of my favourite "I'm in a city, poor and it's crappy out" games... I found a big cozy chair in a bookstore and started reading. But you don't want to get caught reading a book you have no intention of ever buying, so after a while you have to get up, head on down the street and find the next store. Sometimes they don't have chairs... hopefully that's when you've picked a book with short chapters. Regardless, I'm now 200 pages into Shopaholic Goes Abroad (the series has slightly different names here). But I just can not identify with the character... not opening bills, putting off payments and going into further debt merely to indulge in selfish pleasures...??? I don't know anyone who would do such things...

Upon return to the hostel last ngiht I got chatting with a few people. There was one excited little Greek man among us - he had just gotten a really good new job and wanted to celebrate. Anyone remember playing "Je suis morte" in French class? Apparantly you can turn anything into a drinking game.