One Month In and its already been a strange year...

Wow!  Can you believe it?  January is nearly over!  The month that the UK hates the most is nearly behind us.  If you survived the 14^th of January – apparently the most depressing day of the year, then you are doing ok. January over here is a grey and dark time.  In NZ it’s a great time, full of sunshine and beach activities and complaining that it is so hot that you cannot sleep.  I have learned never, ever to complain about the heat again.  

This year for me started off pretty well.  I always feel that the New Year brings a time of new beginnings and whilst this year I did not make any resolutions, I did think about what I wanted for myself this year, health and happiness.  And men or rather just one man.  I made a joke toast with a close friend that this year was the year of men for us – and so far it has been progressing in the right direction.  I also decided to be as positive as possible and face it with a grin.  Famous last words.

But already this year there have been some challenges, disappointments and interesting occurrences.  Close family friends have passed away, a helicopter crashed at my workplace, pubs have closed, my friends have left or are planning to leave, I have had the flu, I have done well at my new job and I have nearly survived a month without alcohol.  It has snowed and I love the snow.  I have had a car for most of the month and have loved blatting about running errands and discovering new places.  I am wondering how I will survive without it now.

Last weekend, was very odd.  I had made plans and filled my weekend from Friday to Sunday, I hate to be bored.  On every single one of those days, the plans changed.  I am used to going with the flow, but that is a bit unsettling for me.  And I accidentally ate some cashew products, so spent my Saturday night in bed feeling very sorry for myself, sucking on my inhaler.  In some ways I found it funny, I had lunch with some friends at a lovely Indian restaurant in Camden, whom I had not seen for ages.  I grilled the waiter on what I could eat, as many of the sauces in Indian restaurants have cashews or cashew oil in them.  There was one curry that I could eat, and if I didn’t like that, the chef was going to make me a special one.  I was happy with the green curry and loved it.  Delicious!  As I was in Camden, I thought that it would pop in and see my amazing friend Sarah – she is great fun and I am dreading a London without her later on in the year.  She is also a very strict vegan.  When I got to Alchemy, a very quiet space within the craziness of Camden’s stable market, I was very full after a yummy lunch.  She took her break and sat down for a catch up, and fed me one of her kale chips.  I was chewing away, had only swallowed the teeniest piece, when she started to tell me how wonderful it was for me and listed the ingredients.  The second one was cashew nuts.  I stopped chewing and we both stared at each other in horror.  I promptly spat out the rest of what was in my mouth and washed my mouth out with water.  Every time I have a reaction to cashews, it gets slightly worse than the last.  I am lucky that I have not ever had anaphylactic shock and hopefully never will.  By the time I got home my stomach was rather unhappy and I felt just off colour and light headed so went straight to bed and slept for about an hour and a half.  Poor Sarah feels terrible about this, but it is not her fault, neither of us could have predicted that there would be cashew products in a kale chip.  In the past I have accidentally eaten a whole cashew nut that was on a pizza, which was being served in a darkened bar, I earned myself some lovely swollen Angelina lips in that episode.

But in all of this month, I have tried very hard to keep a positive attitude and a smiley face.  I am up against it at the moment with my immigration status and that is so exhausting.  But I am lucky, even if my visa is declined, it’s not the end of the world, I will be going home to paradise.  So I guess that the point of this major rant about January is this – throughout this minefield of a month, I have managed to stay reasonably happy.  I am disappearing to Brighton this weekend, as it is beginning to feel like a bit much.  Last year’s Nic might not have recognised that in time and a small breakdown may have occurred, so progress has been made.  I have had an interesting and character defining month and long may it continue!

Hurry up and send me an approved visa!

Dear London,

I am writing to inform you that I am not ready to leave just yet. I am not done with you and nor you with me, so if you could let the Home Office know, I would be very grateful.

4 years, 7 months and 20 days ago, I arrived on your shores. I stepped off the plane at Heathrow, leaving behind my precious ipod in the seat back pocket – dopey me, and was so excited to have finally arrived. It has been my dream since before I was 10 to do my OE and to live here. I might have left it a bit late at 27, but hey I got here in the end.

Arriving here was not easy, I was traveling off the back of a hard year. I had my heart broken, had left a disastrous relationship, sold my share of the house and had left everything I knew behind. I arrived here with 70kg of my possessions on my back. I had been traveling for a month, and I had managed to convince myself that I was on holiday, but on the plane from New York to London, I had a realisation that I was going to be arriving at my new home. That I really had no idea when I was going to see my family or friends again and that I possibly had made the biggest mistake of my life. My first night in Surrey, I cried myself to sleep.

The next day things were a little brighter, metaphorically, as it was grey and raining, despite the fact that it was Summer. I have come to learn that London Summers are like this. I visited Buckingham Palace and saw the trooping of the colour and was for the first time on the tourist trail in London. This is a trail that I have now trodden a million times. Everyone that arrives in London, I take them on this route. The next day I was off to Madrid to begin another month of traveling through Europe.

On this trip, I made life long friends, and saw some of the most amazing things. I stood in the Sistene Chapel, and looked upon the paintings that I had studied for years. I visited Alhambra and marveled at how old things are in Europe and how young NZ is by comparison. I also met one of my best friends and future housemate, Felicity. We had a wonderful time together and from the first day we were mates. On a recent trip home, I was so honored and floored, when she planned her wedding for my visit. I would not have been anywhere else. Whilst we don't often have the chance to talk much anymore, I know that within minutes of seeing her again, we will be chatting like we have never been apart. I cried a lot when I left her at Sydney airport, three days was not long enough.

The first 6 months here, you were pretty rough on me London. I struggled a lot. I cried a lot. I survived having family members pass away, and not getting a chance to say goodbye. I lived in a flat with leaking ceilings, a dodgy landlord, with no furniture and not a lot of light. However, Fe and I both refused to let you break us. We danced like no one was watching, thank god they were not, and went for long walks to make up for the lack of a tele. Once Fe left to move back to Aus, I was lucky enough to move in with three British boys who helped me to settle in a bit more. It was with them that I walked into a kiwi pub in London, completely by accident and met what was to be my London family.

My London family is constantly evolving, over the last two years, its gotten a lot smaller. Many of them have scattered across the globe and the coming year sees it shrinking even further with some of the key players leaving me. London, this is one of the hardest parts of living here, the constant goodbyes. Friendships are formed very quickly here, especially among expats. You have a strong bond of a shared experience and when you are with expats you know that you will be understood as they speak your version of English. I would not trade these people for the world. Whilst we are all scattered, through the magic of Facebook we all keep in touch. Many of us are desperately trying to do this now that our hub, the pub is gone. Over the past two weeks I have been pretty good at it.

It was with the help of my London family, that I was able to survive when I was in pretty much constant pain and was very very ill, for about two years, when I was so far away from my family. There is nothing like your Mum when you are feeling unwell. I fought hard for my health and am pleased to say that after two quite painful operations, that I have been cured for the last two years. I celebrated by having a night out with friends, when I was given a clean bill of health and finally discharged by the NHS.

So London, I guess that what I am saying is this – you have forced me to learn a lot about myself, I now know that I am made of stronger stuff than I thought, I can survive on a shoestring of a budget, I can navigate a tube and bus system, I can make friends easily, despite the fact that I have recently discovered that I am shy, I will get searched every time I try to fly, and that it is no good taking me to an airport, as I will cry for a long time once I am there. I have loved most of my time here, you are a gritty, beautiful city, filled with history that almost feels like it breathes, and you have gotten under my skin. I am not ready to leave you just yet. I would not trade the experiences that I have gained here, I am better and fuller person for them. I am hoping that in the year to come you will treat me well. I am sure that this is my year, its started off pretty well, and I am sure that it contains love, happiness and general excitement for me.

So I am begging you, please let me stay a little longer.

Yours, with Love,

Nicca xx

The sword would be more satisfying

There is a saying that the pen is mightier than the sword. But the way I felt this afternoon, a few rounds with the sword, inflicting some damage, would have been more satisfying. As you all know from this blog post (which is read by at least one more of you daily, according to my stats), I have been embroiled in fighting to save my local pub, my second home, for the best part of this year.

So, at the end of November, we very sadly lost at the last round of planning applications through Wandsworth Council planning department. There was a lot of confusion in the community that the pub serves as to how this has worked, as this was round three, and new objections had to be put in, all for different reasons from last time and in quick succession. We know from our stats and campaigning that on all three planning applications that different people put in different objections each time. From my reckoning across all three campaigns there were over 1000 different objections from 1000 different people and community groups. So that is a pretty sizeable chunk of the Battersea and Wandsworth community and voters. I will seriously be thinking where my vote will be going in the next election after this shameful debacle. 

This latest round of planning came after a lot of ill will between the developers and the community. There was the time when they chucked the pub landlords out with three months notice because the campaign was going so well and they were annoyed. After a significant amount of outcry from the community and then Wandsworth Council, they decided a full two days before the wake that we were holding, that they could stay. What a party we had, it was a small victory for us and we were all so relieved that our pub was going to be standing and functional for a few more months. There was the time when they sent out a bucket load of propaganda, some of which said that Cate, the current landlord, thought them to be fair and was working with them to ensure a smooth handover. Hmmmm loadofshit. Or even better when they quoted her as saying something similar to the local paper. Ummm wtf. Oh and one of my favourites, the time when we discovered another architectural design, that was less ugly, that would mean that much of the pub in its current state could have stayed, and there would be less disruption to the pub whilst it was being built. Languard Investments and their architects were so upset that we had proved right, that they threatened us with legal action and stuck to it. You see they could not make their current design work as a pub, they could not fit in the cellar, the kitchen, toilets etc into their current design. Oh and there was the other designs for other buildings that they had done, that had attracted such derision in the community. That was a bit of a sore point that one. Then there was the time when they put the rent up so far above the fair rent rate for the property that it was no longer within the bounds of the tenants to continue past the new year. Add to that a years worth of just constant worry and changing of minds, and general being a shitness and you will have a fair idea of what these developers – Languard Investment were like. So you can imagine that they fought hard to win, and whilst we were crying in the halls of Wandsworth Council and into our pints, they were popping champagne and counting their money and reveling in our misery.

This pub is a real community asset, this is a place where I have built a family. I have gained so many friends through this pub. Cate and I have 65 mutual friends on Facebook, and all of them will be through the pub that she and her partner Aaron have made into a place that people not only want to be, but fought to save. There were a few relics in this bar. One was a 'Map of The New Zealand', yes The New Zealand. We had all written our names where we were from in NZ and those that were not from there, had written their names in the general direction of their homelands. The other special relic was a guitar that belonged to our special friend Simzy, who used to play in the pub. We had countless jam sessions and endless laughs. This guitar was decorated by him, with kiwi designs, and for a very long time it held a photo of him playing and us watching, within the strings. I have ensured that this guitar faces in the correct way for the last few months. Over the last three weeks, it has been like the last episode of Cheers. I have watched a cast of characters, friends old and new, walk through the bar to say goodbye to the pub and its inhabitants. We had an amazing Christmas in this place, my first and last pub Christmas. We had the best New Years Eve, where we partied till the wee small hours and drank that place dry. I mean dry. There were no spirits left. I was so upset when we ran out of vodka at about 11.30pm. I recall having the last Red Bull in the place, we had to open it with scissors as the tab had broken off. The 1920's theme was a masterstroke and the whole pub danced the night away. It looked hilarious to see a group of people dressed up in yesteryear costume dancing to Moves like Jagger or Dirty Bit.

So you can imagine how painful it was to see the pub stripped of its furniture, to see the doors closed, the fittings removed and the fridges empty. The silent auction was very upsetting. But to ice the cake, Languard Investments had one last surprise for us. Today, before the keys were even handed in, there was a For Sale sign added to the front of the pub. After all the hell that they put us through, and the removal of such a wonderful community asset, the upstanding Battersea pillars of the community, who apparently often take up space in their developments, are going to flick it off to make a profit. There were a number of sweary words that passed through my mind, but mainly it was just a bit of rage. They have stolen a much loved institution of Battersea from the community, for their own financial gain. So much for the propaganda where they wanted what was best for the community. The only comfort that I take, is that being a big believer in karma and what goes around, comes around, and they will get their cumuppance.

So tonight, I am listening to this song – Be Calm, indeed. I have had a healthy dinner and chatted with Cate and Aaron, before they take the first step on their journey that will ultimately see them back in NZ. They were in good spirits in spite of it all and we were talking about the map that will be in their new bar, back over home. I have promised to visit and to sign the map from wherever I will be living. At this stage with my visa at the Home Office for renewal, I could be home before they are, but lets hope not. I will very much miss some of the best people that London has seen fit to show me. But that is a whole other story for another day.

* Disclaimer - these are my own opinions of the events detailed above as I have interpreted them.  This in no way reflects the views of the campaigners or The Castle Battersea, who have not had direct input into this blog.  These events are mostly a matter of public record.  This blog page and all other blogs that I write are of my opinion and of the facts as in interpret them.*

Tell me what you want (preferably me)

Its been a rather busy couple of months and I am looking forward to a quieter January. Filled with girls nights, gym visits and a bit of well earned liver rest by being sober for it. But even in these busy times, I am learning more and more about myself. I am wondering if I will ever stop surprising myself.

One of the things that I have learnt more about myself is that I am actually a little bit shy. I know, please hold your gasps. I am not shy in most contexts, in fact my friends would say I am not shy at all. However, I am shy when it comes to people that I fancy. I am also completely clueless. If you try flirting with me, I encourage you to save your breath, unless you are being so obvious that even this blind, blondey can spot it. There have been a few cases in point, one of which was on my fake birthday. I was waiting whilst we cleaned up my friends pub and there was a regular who was staying on chatting to my friend A. I had not met this man before. He spent 15 minutes chatting me up and I had no idea. I chatted politely back to him and thought nothing more off it. Whilst 5 of my friends sat there with their mouths open. When he left, apparently saying to A, 'I tried!' whilst throwing his hands in the air, I got a lot of ribbing. I was so blind to it. My friends all said to me, never tell us that you don't hit on, we all saw it and from now on, they say the words 15 minutes to me when I am being clueless.

I guess that I am used to the more direct approach. I have never really dated. I have had two, five year relationships, both in my younger years, for the last 5 five years things have been a bit different. Back then things were a bit different, you would meet someone at a party or a club, have a cheeky snog, swap numbers and things would go from there. You knew for sure that they were interested and you would see how things developed from there. That is how it happened when we were young. Here is what I have discovered in the last week, it still happens like that for the very young.

Last Friday night, after what was a great night at my now closed local, a group of us were sitting around, just as the bar was closing, and a friend was bemoaning about how he needed to get back out there and go clubbing. I agreed and offered to go with him. He said how about now. I was not keen for now, I am not feeing very attractive at the moment and had loads to do the next day, I was not up for a big night. I was peer pressured into going out and reluctantly nipped across the road to where I am housesitting, put on some heels and a nicer t-shirt and headed out into Clapham. Wow, am I glad that I did. As I said I am not feeling hugely confident at the moment. We got there and what is normally a busy club was a bit quiet. It was the Christmas week after all. At about 12.45 it started to get busier and that is when the fun began. My friend went to the bathroom and that is when three young men started dancing with me. When I say young, I mean that they were easily under 25, in fact they would be lucky to be 24. My friend came back and instantly went into protection stance, I assured him it was fine. After a cheeky snog with one of them, they were chucked out of the bar for being too drunk. I thought it was hilarious. During the course of the night I was hit on a number of times and even had a really lovely girl tell me that I looked amazing and that is was the casually cool that always looked the best. I came home with a massive smile on my face and called the evening a success.

I don't know what is in the water at the moment, but on NYE I was hit on by another very young man, but I am playing by the international rules of half your age, plus seven and its o.k. from there on up. O.k. he was just within this bracket at 23, but you know what he was hot and he came onto me, so I see nothing wrong with it. (I was laughing as the second this young man laid so much as a finger on me, my protector popped up again and I had to reassure him that it was fine, I was happy with what was going on, almost like there was a sixth sense that I might need him. You know who you are and I love you for this – lets club again soon huh!). This man knew what he wanted and made it very clear. Tell me what you want, make it clear and I am much more likely to respond. This past week has done wonders for my self esteem.

I am not good a game playing, I think that as we get older, that we tend to become a bit more reserved, our days of going clubbing, getting tipsy and pashing people come to an end. People pair off and settle down. The socially acceptable situations where it's o.k. to snog random strangers diminish. Except for some of us that does not happen. We are left with flirting with people who we think might be interested, being too scared to make a move and getting gradually worse self esteem. Which is why I am advocating that we look to bring back some of the confidence that we had when we were young. The directness. The assurance that there is nothing lost if it does not work out. I am not saying that its easy, but at the moment I feel good about myself and that shows and draws others in. I know that I will not be this brave forever, that I will still have my dark moments where all I can see are my flaws, but I have to learn to work with what I have and love me for me. And as my Mum loves to tell me, my Grandma was older than my Grandad and it worked out fine for them, don't worry about peoples ages. Go Grandma.

So there you have it, 2013 has started off with a bang. Its going to be a good year, new job, new visa (cross your fingers), new experiences and new men. Yay!