Head, Heart or Gut

Most people find decision making difficult.  I hate it, but when I want to be I can be pretty decisive.  I will make a decision and it will be hard to sway me from that decision.  I hate it when people dither and cannot decide what they want.  Drives me insane.  And if I say I am going to do something I do it.  Like when I decided that I was going to bungy jump.  I was scared but I had said that I was going to do it, so I did.  It was so much fun.  Or when I decided to move to the UK.  Once I had decided that was it, the rollercoaster had begun, best buckle up and enjoy the ride.

Most people will make decisions one of three ways, with their head, heart or gut.  Different decisions call for different methods, but most people will have a fall back position that they tend to work from.  For me I will always trust my gut, I will have a feeling as to how things are going to work out, it’s normally right.  That is not to say that I will not sometimes ignore it.  When I ignore it, some pretty disastrous things happen – dating your flatmate anyone?  And different life stages often call for different ways of thinking about situations.

For a while there my heart ruled me.   What it wanted, I went for.  I made some terrible decisions.  I delayed travelling for a man who I thought was going to be my world.  He wasn’t.  He was a rebound relationship that should have ended after a month or so, not five years.  In some ways that worked out ok because it would have been a very different travel experience for me had I travelled five years earlier.  It lead me to decide on the spur of the moment that it was time to pack up and leave NZ indefinitely, rather than just the holiday that I had planned.  Not the worst decision that I ever made but perhaps some more thought and planning could have gone into it.

Then my head took over, my heart was not doing a great job you see.  My heart had lead me to a rather disastrous relationship that nearly saw me decide not to travel, and after it was trampled a few times it was not in any shape to be making decisions.  So my head was definitely in charge.  For the best, the head told me that I should stay in the UK no matter what, that I needed to prove to myself that I could do this and that there might never be another chance in my life to see the world as freely as what I do now.  This was a great decision, had I not stuck it out past the first six months of almost pure hell, I would not have the amazing friends that I have now, or have had the amazing experiences that I have had living away from home.  I have learned a lot about what I can handle this way.  That is not to say that it has been easy.  In those first few months, my grandmother who was in perfect health when I left NZ, became ill and passed away in the space of two weeks.  Oh how I wanted to get on a plane and fly home.   I was convinced by my parents that I should stay put, that my grandmother would not have wanted me to give up my dreams to come home for this.  They were right of course, but that didn’t stop it hurting. 

So for the last few years, I have made the conscious decision to make decisions with my head and my gut.  My gut is really good at telling me when I am not safe, when I need to get the hell out of a situation or generally reading a situation.  It has been invaluable when traveling.  So my heart has not had a say.  In fact it’s kinda been off limits, as it has a terrible track record and it tends to get hurt to easily.  Some good decisions have been made.  Fun has been had and life has been all good.   I can hardly complain.  Only, it’s been a bit lonely.   Or a little bit scary to think of a life where my heart is off limits for good.  There have been some great opportunities that I have let pass me by.  And let’s face it, I am a bit of a pushover, in my current work, one of my projects involves getting long term unemployed into work, my heart breaks for these people and I want to employ them all.  Sadly, it’s not realistic and neither is it doing my job.  I have to give myself a good talking too often.

Earlier this year, when my head was fully in charge, a number of things happened to and around me in a very short space of time.  And every single one of them made me realise that life is too short, not to let my heart have some kind of say, otherwise I will end up a crazy old lady with a heart full of regrets.  So this year, my heart has had some kind of say, with some restraints and safety nets but a say nonetheless.  So far it’s been ok, not easy, but ok.  It’s not worked out quite the way that I had hoped, but my head is there to make sure that I am not too broken when it doesn’t go my way.  My heart desperately wants to move back to NZ.  After seven long weeks of being back in London, my head thought that the homesickness would be over and done with.  But my head also tells me that the best place for me right now is in London, as do most of my friends.  So for once in my life, I am making balanced decisions, head, heart and gut are all having a say.  Is this what being a grown up is about? 

How do you make decisions?  What is your fallback?  Do you think that certain people are predisposed to certain methods?  Being a hopeless romantic I guess that I am destined to always have a certain amount of heartfelt decisions, maybe I will just have to learn to be ok with that.

Happy Birthday Cardigans and Cats

This Friday marks the 1^st Birthday of C&C and the 68^th post on this blog!  I am a little excited for this milestone.  I have wanted to be a writer for a wee while now and this has been really fun.  My top rating article was The day after the London Riots – 159 page views!  That article was written with such emotion and very few hours sleep, so I am excited that this is my top rater.  This blog is a few days early due to my hectic life, I am going to see The Muppets tomorrow night - finally and then there will be my normal Friday...

The last few months, I have found it hard to write, it’s been a struggle as I have been feeling really homesick.  And that is something that not everyone wants to read about endlessly.  I have been going over and over it in my head and I still don’t really have the answers but there has been a lot of thinking that is for sure.  So hopefully that is the end of sentimental blogs for a while.  I am trying to get back on track and write something a bit more meaningful.  I was recently told that in this lifetime that I would write a book.  So with a view to getting published, I have a favour to ask.  You are all super supportive of this blog when it is posted on Facebook and make loads of comments there.  Please can you make them on the blog, it will never get the attention that it needs without these.  Right ranting over.

Here are some highlights from the last year….

• Weddings – Royal, Family and Friends.  I recently received a thank you card from Fe and Dan, it’s gorgeous and took me right back to that gorgeous weekend in Sydney.  Much warmer than it currently is in London.
• London Riots – not a highlight but a definite event in London.  It changed the way we look at each other and made me realise how peace can really be balanced on a knife edge.  And it destroyed my fav costume shop.  Not to trivialise it all, that night spent holed up in the pub was scary.  Scary enough that my Sister spent a chunk of her work day texting me and making sure I was ok.
• Friends coming and going – we lost a lot of friends to the greener pastures of home last year.  I saw a lot of them when I was back home for Christmas, they are not forgotten though, there are some rather large holes that are not quite filled.  This year sees more holes appearing, with Caz, Alex and I in competition for the last expats standing.  I guess that is a pretty big feature of living abroad. 
• Many happy nights/days and all in between at the pub.   This is where my London family meets.  Sadly, the Castle Battersea will be closing its doors for the final time in May this year.  I know that I will be shedding a few tears when this happens.  This pub that is the centre of my London social life had some great times in the last year.  The Royal Wedding and….
• The Rugby World Cup – we freaking did it!  It was a nailbiting finish for Kiwis the world over.  I was watching it at the pub and felt like I was about to have kittens in the final minutes.  When it was finally over, I hugged, screamed and cheered.  And marvelled at the number of grown men shedding tears.  And then I went to work.  Stink.  But still I was so damn proud.
• My parents visited!  What a wonderful two weeks that was.  They saw as much of London as you can pack in to that time.  They had a great time (I think!) They got to see how I live and where I party.  They met my friends and bought me giant jaffas.  It was bliss.
• I have seen a crazy amount of live music!  Whether it be at the pub on a Friday night, or that notorious trip to the Redback or at the O2 or Brixton Academy, oh and how could you forget the Milton Keynes trip, it’s been epic.  To say I love music is an understatement.  It is the soundtrack to my life.  My ipod is my best mate sometimes and now that it’s broken I am still grieving for my music.  Silly huh.  And I am so jealous of those that can make it.  Oh how I wish I could sing.  My talent is being able to know the words to a song after listening to it twice.  And it has made me some great friends.  I spent a very cool road trip discussing music this year, I was in my element.
• More movies  and books than you can shake a stick at.   And the odd theatre visit.  It’s been a crazy year.
• That waxing blog that upset men and made women laugh.
•  Brax pushing Charlie up against a fridge and women the world over swooned.  Brax can push me up against a fridge anytime.  Anytime. 

So that is some of this crazy life that has been documented here.  And there is more to come.  There are a few more adventures planned and unplanned to happen.  There are more concerts, more friends, more books, more movies and more happy mess to come.  There will definitely be more baking, more running, more cooking, more smiles, laughing and dancing like no one is watching!  There will be more of the overuse of exclamation marks and more of these blogs.  What’s not to love?

This is what crazy looks like via text

The hot topic on the Fletch and Vaughan over the last few days has been without a doubt, ‘This is what crazy looks like via text’ http://weknowmemes.com/2012/02/hey-kevin-would-you-like-to-get-together-tonight/

When I first saw this on the internet, I didn’t really want to open it up.  The last thing that any single girl needs to see/hear is another single girl being crucified for being ‘crazy’.  Then I heard the one man play that Vaughan did of the transcript.  And all I can say is Good God.  Even on a bad day, I am nowhere near as crazy as this chick is.

But here is the thing about this.  My initial reaction was that men over react when it comes to woman being desperate.  They use it as a get out of jail free card.  It’s not just me that thinks this – when I was at home this year, I met up with pretty much my only single friend in NZ.  We were out walking together and we were discussing how, men around our age, use the desperate/crazy card to get out of situations that they don’t want to be in.  If the situation that they are in is getting more serious than they would like, they pull the ‘at your age you are looking for something more serious like kids’ card.  It’s likely that we have never even mentioned children.  Why have we not mentioned children?  Because we are sick of men using that as an excuse to avoid woman our age.  This whole issue is discussed at length in the book ‘How to be single’ by Liz Tuccillo.  You might recognise her name from the ‘He’s just not that into you’ book that she co-wrote.  You might say that she knows a bit about the subject.  So you can understand my apprehension when the crazy via text posts started appearing on facebook.

More of the story begins to come out.  It turns out that Kevin met JJ on facebook.  He was at home ill and she messaged him, he accepted her friend request and sent him pictures of herself that he liked and he asked her out.  This is where my Mum would say ‘I told you that internet dating was a bad idea.’  I have tried a few internet dating websites over the years.  Mainly at my friends insistence, they always know someone’s brother, sister, cousin or aunt, who met someone wonderful on the internet and now they are married and living happily ever after.  I have met many nice people over the internet, but I have met a few crazies too.

In fact I met a man who had trouble letting go just like JJ – however, I was smart enough not to give him my last name or let him know where I lived.  My first clue that this man was not the full picnic, came when he arrived at the pub we had agreed to meet at, which was a bus ride from my house.  He looked very little like his profile picture.  We sat down to have a drink, he ordered us both a glass of white wine and we began to talk.  He began to lecture me about red wine.  I hate red wine.  I keep trying it as everyone says it’s an acquired taste, but I have yet to finish a glass of it.  I don’t like it.  He could not accept this.  He gave me a lecture about how I could not eat red meat with white wine.  Why not?  I can do whatever I like.  Apparently not.  This is not the way to win me over, I hate being told what to do and I hate it even more when I am not allowed my own opinion.  Then he point blank refused to tell me what he did for a job.  At all.  To this day I have no idea what he did.  I explained my theory that this recession meant that more people were working in jobs that they would not normally do and that therefore we are no longer as defined by our jobs as we have been in past decades.  He was not having a bar of it.  He then asked if I would like to go on a weekend break with him, he was going to hire a car apparently.  On the first date.  I said that I thought that was a bit fast, how about we see how things go, and called it a night.  I only said that I would see how things went to get out of there; this guy was definitely not for me.  I made sure that he got on his bus, before I even headed to my bus stop; I did not want him knowing anything more about me.

The next day, he text me saying that it was great to meet me and could we meet up again.  I sent a very polite text back saying that it was great to meet him, but that I didn’t think that we were suited, and I wished him well in his future dating.  Which I thought was quite nice, considering what a tool he was.  Within 30 seconds I had a text back in which he called me a slut, and said that if we had had sex, that he would have gotten a second date, and that woman like me only wanted men to laugh them into bed.  Let’s just be very clear, he was not going to be touching me in any way, shape or form.  Not sure how I can be called a slut when I didn’t sleep with him either.

The next text, received 30 seconds after the last one said that he should stay away from internet dating sites as woman were all the same, we used and abused him and then didn’t want to see him again.  For the cost of one cheap glass of wine, I am not sure that I used and abused him.

The third text, promised me that I would never hear from him again (thanks goodness) but that I was a slut who should be more genuine and not lead men on, I only wanted funny men who would laugh me into bed.

At this point I deleted his number and headed out for a drink with my one of my male flatmates.  I showed him the texts, I had already told him about the date the night before.  What got me was how this man had turned it all into my fault.  He was unwilling to let me be myself from the get go.  I didn’t want to have an argument with this man in a public place, but I definitely did not think that the date was a roaring success.  But it was all my fault as I was a slut who lead men on?  I don’t think that is fair at all. 

Its worth noting that my flatmate was appalled.  He didn’t think that it was fair that he said nasty things about me and commended my instincts for ensuring that he knew nothing more about me than my first name and my phone number.

I guess all I can say is this – JJ is clearly crazy, to text someone 86 times in one day is not acceptable.  It is also not acceptable to sit outside someone’s house or to call their phone hundreds of times.  But my one question is, why has Kevin posted these text messages on the internet instead of getting the police or the phone company involved to make her stop on the grounds of harassment?  The other point is that whilst in this instance, JJ is a woman who clearly has a few issues, that men can be just as bad when it comes to letting go.  They just don’t have their texts downloaded onto the internet to prove it.

What a week...

This week began with a council meeting to see if we could start on the steps to save the pub.  Many of you will know that my favourite pub in the world is facing demolition.  In the middle of the week it was the beginning of Lent, which in some ways I was looking forward to as after a fantastic weekend in Amsterdam, I really needed a detox.  The week then ended on a strange note with me not going out and staying at home baking. 

The council meeting went very well, they were not impressed with the design that the developers had put forward, and were interested in a sign that sits on the top of the pub.  We were happy with the outcome of the meeting and headed back to the pub for dinner and a chat.  I love this place and I love the people who run it.  The thought of it being demolished breaks my heart.  The amount of work that has gone into making it the successful place that it is, the jobs that it provides and fun that it brings, it makes me sad when I think of all of that being destroyed.

On Tuesday night I made a couple of batches of pancakes and had some good friends around for a catch up.  I was trying to stay up so that I could call my Mum who works in a school, and have the two minutes silence to remember Christchurch with her.  I love pancakes and I love wine, so it was a great night.  But there was always the two minutes of silence at the back of my mind.  I watched some of the coverage on the NZ Herald website and was quite choked up when it finally happened.  I could not help but remember a year ago.  I thought about Cate and how she and I got through this with lots of hugs, tears and wine.  I am not sure that either of us are really over it.

On Wednesday Lent began.  I began my rather intense detox.  It was not a great day at work.  I was quite tired and had a thumping detox headache by the time that I got home.  I had missed out on tickets to the film that had been made about that day a year ago.  So I had decided to get last minute tickets to The Wombats.  I love The Wombats and definitely needed a bit of craziness to get over this day, after an hour long nana nap of course.  Cate called to see how I was doing and asked if I wanted to meet after the movie, she didn’t want me to be sad on my own.  But she also had some bad news.  She can tell you better than I can, it’s her story after all.

Dear Friends,

It is with the utmost sadness and regret that I have to inform you of the impending closure of The Castle.

After a meeting with the developers, Languard Investments, they have decided to terminate our tenancy agreement. This is in direct response to our involvement in, and the current succesfulness, of the Save The Castle campaign. We have to have vacated the premises no later than MAY 22nd

We were offered a reprieve, so long as we cut all ties to the Save The Castle campaign and retracted our objections, but both Aaron and I are unwilling to do that as we DO want to save the Castle, not for us, but for all of you.

I feel incredibly guilty that the closure of such an amazing and long standing establishment has come during my tenancy, and sincerely hope that you can forgive me for this.

Please come by and help us celebrate the last few months of this awesome pub, and if you haven't already, please can you put your objections into the council, so that planning can be refused and we can have The Castle back

WE WILL KEEP FIGHTING!

Aroha nui

Cate

Upon hearing this news, I was gutted.  There is nothing that I dislike more than when big corporations or landlords walk all over the underdogs.  I dislike it even more when it’s my friends that they are pushing around.  I was outraged.  My Mum’s suggestion of getting Sons of Anarchy to sort out the developers was loved by all.

So I went and danced my butt off at that concert.  It was awesome, we boogied through the whole thing and had a laugh whilst doing it.  I love The Wombats even more.

Thursday passed in an upset blur – I had lost one of my earrings that my parents had given me for my 21^st.  I have worn these gold hoops every day for ten and a half years.  Even the sunshine and the walk around the bridges at lunchtime was not really cheering me up.  Gym and a healthy dinner and it was off to bed for me, but not before my flatmate found my earring.  See how my week has been up and down.

Friday, I got tickets to Florence and the Machine, who are on my bucket list for this year.  Exciting!  Then work, off to the gym and then home to bake it out.  You see today, Saturday, is the fundraiser for Christchurch, there will be a pig on a spit and raffles and a bucket that I intend to rattle at lot.  Re-enacting my shaking it for Christchurch, which proved so successful last year will be a good thing.

So that was my very up and down week.  Today the sun is shining and it all seems a bit of a mess.   But I have to believe that it will get better, I just have too.  And if it doesn’t, you all will be getting fat on me, baking it out.

The Sex Life of Bees

I like to kid myself that I am an adult.  But the reality is that I love having a great conversation about sex with my friends, not so much my parents, but definitely my friends.  We have a great a laugh and get right on in there.  If you are finding yourself disagreeing, think about when the programme on whales showed on NZ television and they were speaking about the 8ft penis, how it made the news and how we were all talking about it…

So picture this.  Its 8am, I am at my weekly bee keeping course on a Thursday morning in a room full of strangers, average age 40 +.  And the teacher begins to speak about how bees reproduce, something I had given slim to none thought about.  And it turns out that they are kinky wee things.

Apparently the Queen leaves the hive and heads to the congregation area.  She flies around for a bit.  Then she proceeds to have it off with a drone.  When he is done he pulls away, leaving his willy in there and dies.  Then the next drone comes along, they have to clear out the left over willy, and then they do the nasty, he leaves his willy in there, pulls out and dies as well.  This happens over and over again until she is full up of swimmers and she heads back to the hive and uses them over a number of years to lay eggs.  This ensures that there is a diversity in the babies as well as that the Queen is fertilised for a number of years.

So after reading that, I am sure that you are having a giggle at the image of a wee bee having to clear out the remains of the last and then getting on in there.  I wanted to laugh so bad, I could not meet the eyes of anyone in the room.  No one said a word.  There was not even a snigger.

I for one, raised my eyebrows and put my glasses arm in my mouth and looked like I was mulling it over, but in reality, the glasses were to stop me from laughing.

Later in the pub, I was relaying this to my friend Abby, who also found the whole thing hilarious, she grabbed her friend and was like hey did you know how bees have sex?  They were playing that night and all through the set there were references to be being a Queen Bee – ummm EW!  And also the now slightly famous Mustang Nic, which was made worse by Juddy inserting the word Moist (again ew) and then singing the lyric weeping eye.  You can see why sex conversations are hilarious!  Hilarious, very inappropriate, and oh oh so brilliant.

So there you have it.  Bees are funny and interesting creatures.  Sex is hilarious and even funnier when its animals for some reason.

Some Moments Just Stand Out

I can still remember the moment that I told my close friend Monica that I was moving to the UK.  It was a Saturday night, she and her husband Brendon were getting ready to embark on their honeymoon the next day, and I was making them dinner. 

 

The last few blogs have been a bit sentimental, so this one comes to you from the same vein.  At a time when I am thinking about my future and when they are celebrating their 5^th wedding anniversary it seems apt.

I was living with them after leaving a long term relationship.   Amazing friends huh.  They had been married all of about 6 months when I turned up on their door step with a suitcase and a coffee table. I was thinking about what I was going to do with the money that was coming my way from the sale of my portion of the house and a trip was the first thing on my mind.  I had always wanted to go to Europe, I had been talking about it for years.  I had been poised to begin the trip 5 years earlier but had met this man instead.

So back to the dinner, it had been a busy week and here I was wittering on about this trip that was going to change my life and Monica looked at me and said Hang on what are you talking about?  I thought you were going for a trip, are you going to live?  I had forgotten in my excitement that I had forgotten to tell her.  She was so great, she gave me a great big hug and said that even though she was gutted that I was going, that it was something that I had been talking about for years and it was a great idea.

So we sat down around her kitchen table and discussed what the future was bringing for us all.  And this kitchen table has seen a number of great discussions like this.  I was sitting at it when Monica produced her hand with a gorgeous engagement ring, and I was one of the many that helped to renovate that room when they bought the house together.

The three of us had a ball living together.  We would hang out after work, fire going, drinking a couple of glasses of wine or bourbon, have a cuppa later on and talk for ages.  When I was at home that is.  I was often referred to as the live in student – as I was hardly ever there, leaving at about 6am to head to the gym, then out at night.  I loved that time of my life, although it was all over the place, I had them to anchor me and to have a great time with.

Coming home this time, Monica and Brendon had moved from the house where we had all of these memorable moments.  They have a beautiful new home, filled with their lovely young family.  On a typical pre Christmas drink, this time with loads of babies, we could have wound back the clock 4 years, we were back to laughing our heads off and drinking too much.  They were kind enough to share their holidays with me again, to welcome some of my friends and to introduce me to some new ones of theirs. 

 

I will always miss living less than 5 minutes from them.  In all of my life that has been the distance between us.  Until I moved here and missed out on some pretty big milestones in their lives.  I can never quite believe that I was not there for the babies being born, but I have met them now and it’s lovely to hear them call me Aunty Nic.  I am one of the ladies in the red dresses at Mummy and Daddy’s wedding.  But they have missed some of the big moments in my life over here too.   It was fitting that when I did date someone, that Monica was the first one to speak to him on the phone, even before my family. 

The best thing though, is that no matter the 12,000 miles between us, we are no more than a phone call or email away.  And when we do see each other in the flesh, it is like we have never been apart.  Monica will always be cheering me on to see more and do more, and I will always be sending her and her family postcards from my adventures.  So after much deliberation and homesickness, I have decided that I will be in the UK for the time being.  I will them her and our close knit group of friends more than I can ever put into words, but they are never far from my thoughts or rather sickeningly my heart.

Hindsight - it's not always 20/20

There are some things that are certain.  Winters will be cold, London will be grey, the pub will be warm and people in your group of ex pat friends come and go.  But for me I know that my parents will always be there for me.  No matter what happens they will help me out, bail me out, provide me with a roof over my head and a delicious dinner.  Also that in our own minds we are the stars in our own stories, we see things from a very skewed point of view sometimes.

Another certainty is that sometimes when my parents are around I will be reduced to acting like a teenager, despite my best efforts.  My sister and I are the same, I guess that no one pushes your buttons like your family.  So when my parents decided to come and visit me in the UK, I should have expected what would have happened.

I was excited beyond belief about seeing my parents.  It had been 18 months since we had seen each other in the flesh and I had planned out an itinerary that would show them as much as possible in the two weeks that I had them for.   When they arrived I was very tired and a bit cranky.  Excited but cranky.  I had been working crazy hours to enable me to have time off to spend with them, and their flights were redirected so they were landing at crazy a clock, and were delayed due to the ques through customs.

We headed home and they went to bed, whilst I baked for a friend’s birthday at the pub.  We had a great night, drinking and dancing, laughing with my friends.  They went home a bit earlier, unable to stay up as late as me due to the jetlag.   We had a great time whilst they were here, but the way that I remembered it for a wee while is that our time was coloured by my bad behaviour. 

 

I remember especially being frustrated on the tube with my parents.  To my great shame at one point I pushed my mother off a tube.  When I eventually was able to tell one of my friends this, she cracked up and said that we all have had to do this at one time or other, that our parents no matter how old or young they were, are unable to cope with the tube and that they think that it will be like NZ where they can take their time.  I eventually bought this up with my mother, she just laughed and said that it was for her own good and that she had not given it a second thought.

I was further surprised when my Mum mentioned to me she and Dad both thought that I had been so good to them when they were here.  When I said to her that I felt bad, as I thought that due to my bad behaviour that their trip had been ruined, she again said that she didn’t realise that I felt that way and that they did not feel that way at all.  I now feel better about this trip, not guilty at all.  So I guess that is when I realised that the world did not revolve around me.  (that was sarcastic!)  And also realised that my perception of my moods was not always accurate either. 

This was further highlighted to me, when a friend that I had written a letter too, told me that when she first read it, that she was so pleased to hear from me.  Then she said that she read the letter again and was very upset as I sounded like I was very unhappy.  Which is not true, so maybe I wrote the letter on a bad day.  I was in a hurry to get it in the post but still did not think it was that bad.  Maybe she noticed chinks in the happiness that I did not.

What I am trying to say in a very roundabout way is this – things always look different in hindsight, and that they are never as bad as you imagine.  So stop dwelling on the past, remember the happy times and plan for a happy future.  That is my lesson for today anyway.