Grumpy Monday Morning

As someone who recently came to the end of being employed there are definitely better ways to spend a Monday morning than fighting rush hour traffic to get across London in last nights clothes.

Okay, the sun was shining and that was undoubtedly lovely but when you are feeling rubbish about not having a job, hanging out on busy buses and tube carriages with smug workers nursing their Starbucks soy lattes whilst perusing the business section of whatever newspaper they choose to buy on their happy jaunt to work is not ideal. Don't they know that the Metro is free? Clearly not.

There i was in yesterday's clothes, which i had foolishly chosen in a hungover state, without considering the fact that i would have to cross London wearing them the very next morning. I also neglected to remember my toothbrush which was more unfortunate for my fellow travellers than for me.

I thought that the early start would be a good thing. I would be home by the time i would probably have pressed snooze until, fresh for a productive Monday of sending off perfectly worded job application after perfectly worded job application to people who would see my name in their inbox, exclaim "at last we've found her" and then proceed to offer me fortunes, champagne, diamonds and maybe a micro-pig for good measure.

Instead i was pressed up against suited and booted, employed folk who gave me looks as if to say: "seriously love, do you really think a Guns and Roses t-shirt and no make-up is really appropriate attire for the workplace?". You should have seen the pity in their eyes. At least it gave me a good reason to pop in the ipod, crank it up and for once not care about people hating me. They already did purely because i wasn't joining them in busting out my ipad to check the latest stocks and shares. Well that's what they want you to believe - I reckon they are sneakily reading Perez Hilton.

I emerged from the tube in a hideous mood, made all the worse by the power walkers striding down Brixton Hill chatting into their hands-free kits and sounding important. For intelligent, employed people don't they know that hands-free kits make you look crazy? Unless you're driving, pushing a pram or carrying a small child then they just seem a bit showy. It gives me a bit of a fright as well because as they approach me i think that it is me that they are asking to pick up their dry cleaning or re-schedule their meeting so they can play golf. In hindsight, i'd probably happily do that for them at this stage if they paid me enough...and threw in that micro pig.

As the lone person walking in the opposite direction from the tube, i was in such a bad mood that i wouldn't have been surprised if one of those thunder clouds you see over grumpy people in cartoons was directly above my head, just raining on me. To say that i was feeling sorry for myself is a minor understatement but then i realised that it doesn't matter where i am on a Monday morning, i'm miserable and at least at the end of my journey i got to sit on my sofa and watch One Tree Hill. I should count myself lucky.

I just want to get home....

I’m baffled. Why oh why do people insist on flocking to Oxford Street in London to do their Christmas shopping? It may well be iconic for being ‘the’ place to shop in London but I can tell you now, this place is hell on earth. In fact, if it was possible to kick Oxford Street in the shins or even pinch it on that extra painful bit behind the arm – then I would do it in an instant. I hate Oxford Street. Who cares if its Christmas.

I have just spent the last hour battling through the crowds hell bent on getting their festive shopping done even though there is not enough floor space in the whole area to accommodate the hoards of panic buying shoppers who’ve journeyed to London from around the country to snap up what is already available on their local high street. There are literally people everywhere and they all have a steely look of determination in their eyes which says; “get out of my way or I will trample you to the ground and then smack you upside the head with my 15 Primark bags”. Trust me, they mean it.

It’s like central London has been taken over by some kind of virus but instead of turning humans into zombies, it has turned them in to psychopathic shoppers who’s manners have been long forgotten.

Lets not forget that we are in England. We are known worldwide as having excellent manners. (that and binge drinking) Just watch any American film which has to briefly portray a room of British people and we are inevitably shown as tea drinking, crumpet eating posh twits who say please and thank you too much and more often than not, have suspicious facial hair. If those film makers could see us at Christmas time – they would seriously change their opinions.

I feel that I am one of the minority who have remembered that physical violence against ones peers is not the done thing and have clung on tight to the manners that my parents instilled in me. I know for one that if I bash into anyone on the street I don’t stop and glare at them menacingly daring them to stand up again just so that I can knock them down. Not like my fellow shoppers. No, I apologise profusely, even if I just grazed their handbag. My resolve is wearing thin though I tell you. If I trip over one more suitcase that someone has conveniently decided to bring with them to the busiest street in London, at rush hour, then I will not be responsible for my actions.

The relief I experience at leaving the office at the end of the day is short lived. Inevitably, the tube is closed because of over crowding which means I have to get a bus. Fine. I’ve lived in London a while now, I can handle public transport issues, it goes hand in hand with any commute. What I cant handle is people charging at you from all angles, lost in their own thoughts of what to procure their loved ones for Christmas and all the while staring in wonderment at the (largely underwhelming) Christmas lights. The lights don’t make me feel Christmassy – they make me angry.

If any of you were avid ‘Gladiators’ watchers in the 90’s then I feel that you will understand what I go through everyday at 5 o’clock. Recall, if you will, the game ‘The Gauntlet’. The rules were easy. The competitor had to get to the other end of the track. Simples. However, in their way were 5 angry Gladiators with various weapons just waiting to take them down. My journey home is exactly the same – apart from no-one is wearing a leotard. The Gladiators are replaced with shoppers and the weapons are replaced with shopping bags, trolleys, suitcases, bikes, prams and anything large that’s going to hurt you if you collide with it. At least at the end of Gladiators you won something. Here, the only thing that you win is your right to walk down the street and get home in one piece.

The weird thing is that the crowds just don’t seem to subside – in fact, they seem to grow on a daily basis. The one thing that I am grateful for is that my hatred of Christmas shopping and members of the general public led me to complete all of my shopping in a record 1 hour and 10 minutes. I can only attribute what must be an international world record to my daily training on Oxford Streets’ own version of the Gladiators. At least it’s good for something.

Let it snow............

For any of you who are lucky enough to be in warmer climes, think yourself lucky.

As we speak, I am in my house, the heating is up so high that the boiler is shaking with the physical exertion and I am wearing four different layers, tights and two pairs of socks. Brilliant.

No amount of hot chocolate is helping - in fact I am angry at all warm drink manufacturers who claim that their products can make you warm inside. They are lying, or they are targeting people who already have a body temperature of above freezing.

When I awoke on Tuesday morning, crawled out of bed, drank my obligatory pint of tea and noticed that it was snowing outside - I was full of joy. Snow! Who doesn't love it? It's magical and it's nearly Christmas. What more could we hope for?

The reality is entirely different.

Once you get past how pretty it is you realise that snow is nothing but a massive pain in the ass. Walking anywhere involves putting on as many layers as you can whilst still being able to do up your coat, wearing the only hat that you own and that you hate but that you are forced to wear otherwise the wind whistles into your ears and makes your brain say: " Amy, go back to bed". All this just to get some milk for your cereal.

It has made me realise why hibernation is a good idea. Our furry friends have it right. I would happily stay inside all winter and feast on the supplies that I had so cleverly been hoarding for the past months. I bet all those hibernating animals are drinking mulled wine in their nests, busting out their miniature nutcrackers to free those tasty delights that they have stored up and laughing at the stupidity of us humans.

Walking anywhere is an absolute nightmare. No matter how much grip your shoes have, walking on sheets of ice is not easy. People are falling over left right and centre. Ordinarily, I would find this highly amusing but its a whole different story when I too am one of those idiots. There is no avoiding it, you just have to learn to fall with grace...or convince yourself that that is what you are doing. My normal 10 minute jaunt to the tube station is now a 20 minute death slide of pain and humiliation.

Another annoyance which comes hand in hand with snow is that everyone seems to lose the ability to have a conversation about anything other than the snow and how disruptive it is to our transport system. BORED.

I appreciate that extreme weather is indeed a talking point but after you have established that, yes - it is cold and yep - journeys anywhere are a nightmare, can't we just stop talking about it and get on with being actual interesting people who have opinions and thoughts on anything aside from the weather?

I know I sound miserable but when you are running out of warm clothes, nothing clean will dry in your ice box of a flat and you have fallen down on average, thrice a day since Jack bloody Frost decided to stroll into town - you too would be cranky.

Now i'm off to fill up my hot water bottle, grab another pair of socks and have yet another hot chocolate.

Happy to be home.....

As you will know from my last 2 posts – I have returned to London. I can safely say that I am loving it - apart from the cold. I naively believed that as its April that the sun would be shining and it would soon be sandals and sundress weather. How wrong I was. I don’t know whether I am just acclimatising but at the moment it is more than necessary to wear woolly socks, boots, gloves and a hat / scarf combo which leaves no space for the wind to whistle around the back of my neck. I seem to spend all the time when I am out of my bed, shivering, eating soup or drinking tea. That’ll teach me to be so bloody optimistic about the English weather. The major upset is that, what I thought would be a permanent flip-flop tan-line, appears to be fading in front of my eyes. It’s upsetting. I’d just grown to love it.

It’s good to be back in the Motherland and the joy that the simple things are bringing me is crazy. The other day whilst wandering into Superdrug – I think that I let out a little squeal of delight to be back there. You can literally get everything that you want in there. For the record, I’m definitely a Superdrug not a Boots girl – so much cheaper! Also, the joy that is Pound Shops! Whoever came up with that deserves a cuddle and a cup of tea from the entire country. Why would you shop anywhere else but there if you can get pretty much anything you need. Granted, the quality isn’t that great but for a pound you can’t really grumble can you!

I’m living in Brixton at the moment and not only is there a pound shop but when I ventured further down the street the other day I discovered a 99p shop and when at my mates house in Hackney, I saw a 98p shop! Things just keep getting better and better! If anyone knows of a 97p shop – please let me know. Every little helps when you are broke and unemployed!

I know that this will no doubt wear off, but at the moment I am finding everyone so friendly – I am literally having conversations with everyone. They probably think I’m bonkers but it’s just so nice to hear accents that aren’t Australian everywhere! For that comment, I am a bad person and I apologise but at the moment it’s so true! I’m pretty sure that its not totally normal behaviour to smile at everyone but I cant seem to stop at the moment. I must look like a crazy person.

I’m finding it pretty cool to be somewhere with old style buildings, lots of things to look at and lots of people. This isn’t necessarily very practical because I wander around looking at things that aren’t the pavement in front of me and there are a hell of a lot more people in London than there are in Perth and therefore the percentage chance of colliding with someone is much greater. It’s happened a few times but I can’t seem to drag my eyes from all the stuff there is to look at. I’m like a child! A really tall child, who’s dressed in a million layers!

I’m going to make sure that I make the most of this child like open eyed wonder because I’m sure that as soon as it starts to rain and I am employed, I will avoid eye contact, not notice anything but my computer screen all day and not engage total strangers in conversation. Until then though, if you’re in Brixton and you bash into a girl who is smiling and staring at that tree – don’t be mean.