So time IS a healer

Can you tell I’ve started on the life coaching books?

So it turns out I hadn’t deleted all trace of that Kiwi, probably a sneaky subconscious move on my part.  Subconscious? Unconscious? Anyway, MY SKYPE! Of course I couldn’t help but take a look, as I love to dwell and mourn nice things.  And guess what? The entire thing made me laugh, our conversations had the great workings of a tragic romantic novel, tragic being the operative word here.  He WAS all “I want you, I need you, I’m moving” from the onset.  Having had a little snoop on his blog about his choons it seems he’s fallen just as madly, deeply for this new bird, all over the course of days again.  Probably down to his artistic nature intrinsically making him feel so much more intensely than us regular folk.  I conclude, he’s 1. fickle 2. far more lost than he claims 3. I’m so glad to be back in the real world, with real people and not spending every waking minute on him.

I still standby my no regrets mantra, because I have none.

Now a gif for you all that epitomises that time in my life.  I bid you and it, adieu! Ah 🙂

xoxo

Date número deux

“Hey you! YES YOU. Are you dithering on a date and looking for ways to entertain yourself? Bring up the notion of freezing your eggs, a foolproof way to a priceless face.”

Yes, yes it happened. No I would not take it back if I could.

A guide to the universal etiquette of the London underground

Now we’re known for not being the friendliest bunch on the tube.  Avert all eye contact, do not speak to those beside you, even if you are indeed intimately lodged in their armpit, this does not warrant the closeness of a relationship as it would seem at first glance, off the rails.  Oh and at all costs, NEVER STOP RUNNING.

It’s coming to a year since moving here and at first I found the continual zombie-like zooming rush hour ritual somewhat bizarre and a little cold.  And now?  Well it turns out Londoners are human for the most part (especially so after a glass or three of vino), except they don’t like to talk first thing, and they appreciate the quiet after a day at work, so if anything I think there’s something quite nice in that we’ve all come to a mutual agreement for a bit of peace on our commute.

However, there a few more unwritten rules, that are abided by for the most part, but I’d like to make these quite clear for those unsure of the boundaries.

1) Head’s of relatively small people should not be mistaken as newspaper rests, this is unkind, especially to those with severe short person syndrome.

2) Caressing ones hair, and ridding yourself of those strays that malt, and then proceeding to sprinkle these sparingly across the carriage makes my morning coffee curdle.

3) Clipping the back of feet will one day result in clipping around the ear.

4a) The hogging and quite literal hugging of the poles.  b) The ultimate sin is the meek holding of two, without an attempt of the Earth Song.  If you insist on pissing your carriage off, do it with some conviction.

5) Those not sure whether they’d like to stand or walk down the escalators and instead find their happy medium by dawdling down the left hand side?  Nobody else shares your joy.

And I will leave you there!  I’ve a tonne more but at the risk of sounding a complete anal loon I’ll bid you guten nacht.

Oh for any prospective tourists reading this, for you, a little glimpse…

Happy commuting x