Sore feet, rumbly tumbly

In February, I went to the Kensington Roof Gardens to see my friend Abby Holden play. I am a huge fan of Abby and this was a real treat. She is a delightful friend, a great laugh, and a brilliant singer/songwriter. The roof gardens are a delightful venue (which I went back to for a delicious lunch a few weeks later) and quite a swanky one too. Its been a while since I have been anywhere with a dress code.  (which I was only alerted to about 15mins before I left home!  Eeeekkk some serious rethinking of outfit went on!) So dressed in skinny jeans, a sparkly top and some ridiculously high heels, with a dodgy ankle, I walked like a wounded gazelle, trying to look elegant into the venue.

I immediately met up with my friends Juddy, Pauline and Michelle. We were all looking glam and scrubbed up well. We headed to the bar, and had some ridiculously over priced drinks and caught up, whilst waiting for the venue to open. None of us had eaten, and it was after 8, but we were all very excited so it didn't matter.

I am pretty sure that Abby was first up and she played a great set. We cheered and sang along. There were calls for Ginger pubes, which Abby good naturedley played for us amidst huge cheers. We all loved her single Kiwi Boy, which rang true with all of us, Juddy and I were laughing at the description of a guy wearing jandals walking into a dairy. You can hear/buy the single here...

We watched a few other sets and then headed back to the bar area where we could still hear the music but talk a bit more. And then I spied the burgers that were being made. I was suddenly starving and realised that it was after 10pm,and that due to houseguests etc, I had eaten very little that day. So a group of us headed out to the hotplate and ordered £10 burgers. They were delicious, but I think that was more the time rather than the burgers, they were definitely not £10 worth.

As we were sitting on the ledge of a garden devouring these delicious burgers, balancing them as only the tipsy can, a group of lovely young ladies walked past us. All of them were studiously pouting and looking too cool for school. One of the guys in my group watched them go past and said to me, why is it that at gigs like this, in places like this, beautiful woman always look so miserable. I answered, because their feet hurt and they are starving. He laughed, and then watched the next group go past and shouted Oh My God, you are right. They were looking enviously at the carbs that I was ingesting, somewhat off my diet for the night, and they were ever so slightly hobbling in heels that were towering.

He then looked at me and said, but you are beautiful too and you are smiling, why are you not pouting and miserable too? Because life is too damn short to be miserable. I had a pair of flats in my bag to change into, to get on the tube home with, I was starving and could not care less at that point if it was cool to be seen eating what felt like at that moment, the worlds most delicious burger.

But this brings me rather longwindedly to the point. When it did become fashionable to look miserable? I get smouldering, but miserable? And its clear that men find the whole thing rather confusing, I have had many conversations where they find the whole going out to dinner with woman thing confusing, as they never eat. I looked back at my facebook photos, with the exception of a recent one, where I have been photographed balling my eyes out at an airport, I am sporting a massive smile. Or dancing my little heart out, or hugging someone. Surely, this has to be a better way live life than being serious/miserable* all of the time? I am sure that if I started pouting often, that my friends would certainly tell me about it. I know that there would be stern talkings too.

So my plea is this, smile people! The world needs more happiness, more silliness, more love and more hugs.

*It should be noted, that when I speak to people I would say this 'serious slash miserable', which has caused Abby on many an occasion to say 'who says slash? That is hilarious!' I do people, I do.

Long live the King & Queen

My February was pretty rubbish. It felt as though with every email or phone call, more and more awful things happened and it was just getting worse by the day. It really knocked my resolution to be happy this year. One of my friends made the comment, that February was only 28 days, because most of us could not handle much more than that.

But one of the saddest moments in this godawful month was my closest London friends leaving to move back to New Zealand. Its fair to say that everyone expected me to be a blithering wreck from the time that Cate and Aaron returned to the UK from Europe to stay with me for a week and surprisingly I proved them wrong. Part of it was denial. I could not fathom my London without these people who were to a degree the linchpins of my urban family. I still can't.

I have known Cate and Aaron for 4 years. A detour from my normal pub with my three boy flatmates, led to the pub which they ran. From the second that I saw the Harere Mai sign on the door, I knew that I was at home. From that moment on I was slowly but surely absorbed into the family. This family has grown and changed over the 4 years that I have been in it. People have moved home or changed jobs from working at the pub where it all began and others have joined our fun group.

Cate and I would catch up a couple of times a week and always on a Friday. I became a pub regular who grew to know the cast of characters in the pub like they were my own family. Which in the absence of my own family, was nice to have. We spent long weekends together, holidays such as Easter and Christmas and many a family dinner. We were there for each other through thick and thin and had loads of in jokes. Do you know your postcode? We met members of each others families and laughed when Cate's sister described me as her bosom buddy. Hehehehe. We have survived earthquakes, family weddings and tragedies. Its fair to say that I adore Cate and Aaron.

We have spent a long time fighting for their pub, which was sold by the brewery to a developer who have plans to turn it into a block of flats. Its kinda like someone ripped the heart out of our community. It was an emotional time and we gave it our all, but in the end we lost. Which meant that this Christmas was our last Christmas in the Castle. And that after 12 years in London my bestie was heading home to see her family and to start a new adventure.

I don't know that I can do ever write to do justice to the depth of friendship that we have. We share a very warped sense of humour. One that makes us laugh at the most ridiculous things. I loved the postcard that she sent me from Berlin – Hi Nic, Here is the postcard that you wanted, it is cold, we are good. Love Cate and Aaron. I laughed over it for days. When she got back, she told me that she had laughed over it for days as well.

I was touched when Aaron mentioned me in his leaving speech, we danced the night away, drank way to much and together we found out that McDonalds is open at 4am and that a taxi driver will take you through the drive through, but that even if he won't, the dining room is open. Who knew?

I held it together well, we all thought that I would have been crying since Christmas day, I managed to hold it together until the final day, I cried a bit at the last lunch and then at the airport, where I had only the smallest amount of time to say goodbye. It was hard, but I am so excited for them. Its an interesting feeling also to be the person who is being left behind when others are going on an adventure, its normally me having to get on the plane, whilst crying.

So what I want to say is, I miss my friends, I am still very grateful for the people who have been making sure that I am not lonely, even if its just a phone call to chat. I am very lucky to be a part of such an amazing life changing community. Love you all and thanks for being so amazing!

Don't think, just do

Over the past week, I have had that one line of a song stuck in my head. It has been like a mantra, but a really annoying one. I have been wracking my brains trying to figure out where it is from and why I seem so attached to it. I have had a half melody to go with it, but still no joy.

It’s more than just a song lyric. It’s a way of life. I have been accused in the past of over thinking things. What? You? No! Never! Said no one ever. We all know that I am capable of taking one sentence from a conversation and analysing it to a point where I have 10 different meanings for it. I over think everything from my love life (of which there is none), to my job, to my friendships, to the grocery list, to the gym, and so it goes on. One of my good male friends often stops me when I begin to relay an event that could lead to a love life and says – You are over thinking it again. Just chill out.

So I have been trying to chill out. Just to make it fun, when I am trying to not over think anything, it is the time when my visa is being renewed. When this is published, I will officially be an over stayer. But its ok, I have faith that it will work out. I have my MP onto it, as I type, and UK Border Agency has assured me that I am still legal to work. Hmmmm. Don’t over think Nic, just do your job and enjoy your life. 

I have been watching with great interest the media excitement over Lena Durham. I absolutely love her show Girls. It is gritty and honest and makes me cringe in parts, watching it. Because it is so real. This is a New York that could not be further away from Sex and the City. Its people like me, facing problems like me, and behaving like me. I love that Lena has written, directed and starred in this. This feels like a trip into her mind. And guess what, she over thinks things just like me. She is the new Hollywood darling and I suspect that we are going to see loads more from her. And from all accounts, she is an all round lovely girl as well. So over thinking is entertaining for those around you.

So how is it going for me? I have over thought one situation so much, that I have just about given it up. I cannot be consumed by this and my answer to hide under the duvet. I have over thought my visa situation no end, I am nearly on the brink of ordering boxes to pack up my life and move home. And then I remember that in a month, it will be resolved and I will be thinking how silly I was. But today as I was struggling to not think, just do, I suddenly thought, google the damn lyrics and figure out where they are from.

They are from this song, aptly titled – You could be happy – yes I could be happy. It’s interesting to me that in one of the most significant upheavals of my life, this CD saved me. I had left my relationship and house and was living with my bestie and her hubby. This CD got thrashed in the car and every Saturday morning when I cleaned their lovely home, I had this on loud. I was in a cleaning phase, they didn’t force me to do it. So now that I am in another period of transition, not quite as dramatic as that, this song has come back to haunt me.

So there you go, I could be happy, and I am now choosing to be. I am going to be attempting to do a lot less over thinking and more doing. I have to remember that those 6 years ago, that I survived the upheaval and that I will survive again. This time on a different continent, but with the same support, just from a different group of friends. As well as the ones at home, who are secretly (not so secretly) hoping that this visa does not go well and that finally return to their shores. Although, if I did not over think things, then this blog would be a lot less interesting… Oh no here we go again…