The amazing homeless woman

I am now getting used to living in London and used to some very unusual sights and unusual people but nothing could have prepared me for the amazing homeless woman. I was walking to walk one normal morning when, at the end of the street I saw a homeless woman peeing out of her bum. Yes, this was impossible I thought. But, there she was as brazen as anyone bending over with pee coming out of her bum. How she did it I do not know and the other thing I do not understand is why she didn’t go down the lane which is just a few short steps away (and to be fair any girl with a bit of ‘class’ would use it. I am not averse to using it as a last resort myself when I am caught short on a night out). I guess I will never know why or how she did it!

Every day you learn something new

As the months go on and we get more used to living in the flat and away from the comfort of home, more disasters seem to strike but let’s look at the positive we learn something from each of them.

Disaster 1 – I try to set-up a TV/DVD combi. I know this was a stupid decision. I bought the TV/DVD thing thinking this would be a good idea. I am a high earning, marketing assistant, working in London. I can set-up a DVD combi. I do not need a man and I do not for one second believe men are better at these things (unlike my mother, and I stick to that even after the disaster ensued). I spent the evening screaming, shouting, throwing boxes (empty ones) across the room and shouting at dizzy blonde receptionist (who, to pay her her dues, listened patiently as I screamed and shouted and ranted and raved). I could not do it. I eventually discovered that I was missing a scart lead and an indoor aerial. Well, if only they’d told me that!! I swear those instructions are written by men. Why not say, before you start you will need TV/DVD combi, scart lead and indoor aerial? Why put that at the end of the instructions when you’ve got everything out of the box and have already tried to assemble it? Even better, why not provide you with everything you need?

Disaster 2 - Unfortunately I was not the only one to have to learn something this week. Dizzy blonde receptionist flooded the kitchen again. This time she did not attempt to clean the dishwasher with fairy liquid, she came in drunk and decided to open the washing machine door whilst it was still going. This time I came in to find her drunk with a little girl look on her face and lots of towels on the floor trying to soak up the mess. Learning point, do not dizzy blonde receptionist near modern, electrical kitchen equipment and try and keep her away from water.

Flat bonding

Well it was about time dizzy blonde receptionist, rich girl and I had a night out together. Dizzy blonde receptionist chose the venue (should have known better) and we ended up in Hammersmith at the Palais. Sounds very nice but trust me, this is deceiving. To enter the Palais you need to show ID, go through metal detectors, have your bag searched, every page of your passport checked for drugs and any chewing gum (even unopened packets) are taken off you, for fear they are drugs. So everyone in there is eighteen, knife and gun free, drug free but with smelly breath. We proceeded to get very drunk, avoided a few fights and by two in the morning rich girl and I had had enough but dizzy blonde receptionist wanted to carry on partying. Eventually we dragged her out, avoided the unlicensed cab she wanted to get in, flagged a black cab and made our way home where dizzy blonde receptionist decided to make scrambled eggs and I crashed out on my bed (I say on and not in), fully clothed with the light on but fast asleep. It could have been worse, I might not have made it to the bed!

Entertaining by text turns into an actual physical date

I decided, after many entertaining texts, to humour the nice man who asked me out on a date. To refresh your memory I didn’t fancy him (although I later found out he is an ex-marine; that should definitely be my type) but did meet him. I did have a good night, it was lovely and we talked and we laughed but nothing can make you fancy something when that chemistry is not there and when it came to the end of the night I knew that awful kiss moment was going to approach. I politely (?) offered my cheek and felt guilty for the rest of the night that I had led him on. He text me saying he had a great time and would like to do it again soon and the following day I text him back and said I had a really great time and would like to meet him again soon too but only as friends. Strangely enough, I didn’t hear from him again. New rule: don’t date men you don’t fancy.

New year’s resolutions?

We all make them but do any of us actually keep them? It seems rich girls resolution is to attempt to beat the world record for the number of times you can wash your clothes in a week. We are on the third was this week and with her using dizzy blonde receptionist’s fabric conditioner (apparently at the alarming rate of half a bottle for four items of clothing) it might be handbags at dawn (and I’m not getting involved after the new year).

I would love to make a resolution to be less judgemental but I simply can’t. The marketing assistant and I were asked to attend a breakfast seminar at the Ritz, very nice but please, if you are ever lucky enough to be able to go follow these simple rules (it’s common courtesy):

Do not eat with yuot mouth open – it is disgusting and I do not want to see your food sloshing about in your mouth
Do not ask for tomato ketchup in the middle of the Ritz part way through the seminar – it is rude and just not the done thing
Do not scratch your head constantly throughout the seminar – the person behind you will get annoyed and think you have nits (not nice)

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind, should auld acquaintance be forgot, and days of auld lang syne…

To be fair I did very well to type that much of the song as the title to this piece, I am always very drunk at New Year and it’s not like anyone sings the song at any other time! Most people just kinda hum the tune anyone and I happen to be one of them.

This was the new year of 2006 and it was handbags at dawn for me. I made the fatal mistake (as I do every year) of going out in my home town (normally this is ok, but not this night). The evening was going well, I was surrounded by good friends, good drink and the more good drink I consumed the better the friends got, even strangers or faint acquaintances became good friends. Typically for my home town, a fight kicked off. Now random ex, who was mentioned earlier, is an ex-doorman and having spent many a night out with him and being taught how to defend myself and diffuse a fight, after a few drinks I tend to think I can stop any fight in the world. Not a great move! It started off well, the fight calmed and then I fatally said the wrong thing. Surprisingly the wrong thing to say was ‘calm down’. Not a common one to provoke someone but there we go, this was my huge mistake. A scatty blonde launched at me screaming, ‘don’t you tell me boyfriend to calm down’ and next thing her hands are in my hair trying to pull it out (well, understandable; I have very nice hair). My one friend is on the other side hitting this scatty blonde in the face shouting ‘let go’ and another friend’s boyfriend is stood behind me trying to pull me out. Eventually I escaped, missing a bit of hair, but pretty much unscathed. The scatty blonde then decided to drive home drunk and I continued with my new year’s eve celebration.

I later found out she worked in the pub she had attacked me in and was sacked as soon as she came in for her next shift. Violence just doesn’t pay.

That night, I also made my plan for the coming year. I hand my notice in in the Summer, having gained a valuable six months work experience at a top London law firm, then I leave to go travelling. A good friend would be in Japan attempting to teach English (he doesn’t quite know how to speak it himself so it’ll be interesting to see him teach it) so that will be my first stop, then to Sydney and Queensland where I know no one but hope to work, then to New Zealand where another friend will hopefully be putting me up and showing me the sights, then on the Las Vegas because it’s the best place in the world, then to LA where I’ll meet Robbie Williams and we’ll get married and that’s where we’ll reside. In the glorious, luxurious Hollywood hills. Fingers crossed it’ll all happen.

The blissful lonely days

The days between Christmas and New Year I was back in work and alone at the flat. Dizzy blonde receptionist decided to stay at the boyfriend’s place and rich girl has tonsillitis, otherwise known as homesickness or not wanting to come back to London to work as a waitress over Christmas (rich girl was a freelance photographer trying to make it in London. Mummy and Daddy gave her a generous allowance but insisted she did some work and made her get a job as a waitress in a pizza restaurant).

Alone at home I decided it was time I got out and met some people and when pondering how to do this, I came across a website for ‘like-minded people in London’ who wanted to meet others and I decided to give it a go. Slightly crazy idea, but hey, it wasn’t the first and it won’t be the last (I can assure you). The idea of the night was to turn up a pub in central London and talk. So, I turned up expecting a bunch of geeky weirdos to be sat around the table discussing The Times crossword but was surprised to find myself laughing a joking with a great bunch of people. By midnight I found myself with an American girl doing shots of strawberry vodka and even stranger ended up in a gay bar in Soho where we were asked if we were ‘together’. Strange but interesting and at least I can say I’ve been to a gay bar in Soho (that’s one London thing ticked off my list)!

Snow is falling, all around us, children playing, having fun…

With my first few weeks in London under my belt Christmas was fast approaching. It was that wonderful time of year when families across the world come together and celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ (or, as most of my friends would like to see this time, the time of year when we receive presents – to be fair no one really likes the giving, all that Christmas shopping is a bit stressful). The celebration usually involves lots of alcohol, lots of food and god forbid, the family board game (don’t bring out the trivial pursuit) and inevitably lots of arguments (lots of cheating at the game) and lots of fighting, or is that just my family?

This first Christmas in London began as a joyous occasion as all Christmases do. I awoke to an empty flat. Both dizzy blonde receptionist and rich girl had both made an early departure home leaving the emptying of the fridge, clearing of the dead flowers (we didn’t have flowers often and so they had been left there until there was literally no life left in them) and taking out of the bin and recycling bag to me. To be fair, this did not leave me in the best of moods and I decided, slightly pig headedly, that I was not going to make two trips, I was going to do this all in one. So, with bin bag, recycling bag and (rather large) suitcase in hand I attempted the stairs…and fell.

I opened my eyes to find a split up bin bag, the contents on the floor and an old jacket potato skin in my hair. Back up the stairs to get the dustpan and brush I limped (my ankle had been twisted in the fall). So much for not going up back and forth up the stairs. I cleaned up the mess and made my way to work and then to a packed Paddington station, with everyone trying to get home for Christmas.

The first London date

I have now been in London for a grand three weeks and for a city which contains so many people, there were very few eligible men. So, when I finally got asked out on a date, I jumped for joy. One problem – I didn’t fancy him. Don’t get me wrong he was not ugly by any stretch of the imagination, in fact I had heard a number of women in the office discussing his sex appeal, but he just didn’t do it for me. I decided to play about with him for a while well, he was entertaining me, admittedly by text message (no dirty ones, thank you) but entertaining me all the same whilst I waited for my Prince Charming or Robbie Williams to show up begging me to marry him.

Full bill of health

My work, wanting to ensure they have not employed someone who is at death’s door have made me, as part of my contract, go for a medical. At first I thought this was totally unnecessary, but that was before I saw the Harley Street offices of our firm doctor. Well, that is it, I decided then and there, I must find myself a rich man to keep me in the manner I was about to be made accustomed to!

I arrived in the doctor’s office and he asked me to strip to my underwear and put on the robe (what is the point in putting on the robe when the opening, unlike in all US hospital shows, has to be at the front? I may as well be naked). Now, I figured, he must be a rich man, a bit old for my liking, but I could deal with that if I was to have a lifestyle where I visited doctors like this and so, when he asked me to strip, I thought I was in. I was disappointed to find all he wanted to do was hit me on my back, check my heart beat and take my blood pressure – what a disappointment! That’s the first time a man has ever got me that naked and not tried anything (and I kind of hope it’s the last; although this is not an invitation for a doctor to start touching me up! I need to check your bank balance first!). I may not have a man, or money but I now know, I have my health.

Two’s company but is three a crowd?

Despite the disasters of the first week, dizzy blonde receptionist and I were getting along great. It had been just the two of as rich girl (flatmate number three) had not yet moved in (Mummy and Daddy had paid for her to go skiing) but her arrival was imminent.

The warning signs were there, the rich girl had already expressed an interest in getting internet installed in the flat, working out exactly how much it would cost each of us but not taking into consideration that neither dizzy blonde receptionist or I had a laptop, she wanted to pay less than her third for the bills because she had a smaller room, reduced rent was not enough . It’s not that I’m mean but with rich girl joining dizzy blonde receptionist’s team in the lights on/lights off game, I was not going to being paying more than her for electricity! I had prepared myself for her arrival mentally and had dressed appropriately in my fighting gear.

Surprisingly all went well. She moved in on Sunday and although the place was a mess initially, it was all sparkly by Tuesday and we had even begun a Christmas theme. Dizzy blonde receptionist had put up some ‘Merry Christmas’ signs and a nice tree. I modestly added a number of Christmas cards (our shelves were bare) and rich girl added fairy lights, a fairy for the tree and some homemade snowflakes. Yes, you read right, homemade snowflakes. No, we do not have any children so this could not have been a nice creative activity to keep them entertained, it was serious. Our flat began to look like a primary school class room. Classy!

Like the last week, the second week brought with it a number of disasters however this time they did not revolve around dizzy blonde receptionist:

I got drunk! Firstly this is not out of the norm, however getting drunk from three small glasses of wine is! And, to top it off, I have bruises to show just how drunk I was. I had a classic fall, heel stuck in the little gap in the pavement, straight over, the bruises are impressive but I am totally unimpressed by my new reputation as a light weight!

New girl starts at work. First impressions count, please remember that if ever going for a job. I have a bad habit (I have lots of them but will only detail one for you here) of not liking new people. Usually I hate them for about the first two months and then they start to grow on me. To be fair, I am still very good friends with a number of new people I have hated as they turned out to be far better than their first impression but this one took the biscuit. New girl phoned in sick on the second day, promising to be in on her third and then phoned in sick on the third! Not impressed and yes, I am being hard. Maybe she was really sick but to top it all off, she came in on the fourth day and said, ‘I know I sound really ill, but I’m feeling a lot better’. Don’t tell people you sound ill (you actually don’t) wait for them to say something to you. Then, she phoned in sick again on the fifth day. How important are fist impressions again?

My parents are getting a divorce! Not really (or I hope not). But, I do find it quite confusing and suspicious that they sent me separate Christmas cards. One from Dad, one from Mum. Very strange. I informed them promptly, that if this was a hint and they were trying to ease me into the change, not to bother, but I expect double the number of Christmas presents!

The learning curve

Now, I had lived away from home before, admittedly I use the word ‘lived’ very lightly. I moved twenty minutes up the road in Cardiff when I went to university. I took my washing home every weekend and let my Mum by my shopping in Tesco for me, but I did have to cook for myself, wash up and learn a few basic skills. The dizzy blonde receptionist had never been away from home.

We began a new fun game (again the word ‘fun’ here is used very lightly; no pun intended (see next line). It’s called ‘how many lights can dizzy blonde receptionist leave on. The aim of the game is that dizzy blonde receptionist leaves on as many lights as she can and I run around trying to turn them off. Try it at home, it will certainly keep you fit!

Our first week together saw a number of dizzy disasters:

Dizzy blonde receptionist attempts to clean the dishwasher…with fairy liquid. Yes, you guessed it, I walked in after a long day at the office to find suds all over the place and dizzy blonde receptionist standing there in her PJs with a child like ‘I’ve done something and you’re not going to like it’ look on her face.

Dizzy blonde receptionist attempts to hoover the shelves. That is not a typo, yes, she tried to hoover the shelves…another of her great ideas but not quite up there with putting fairy liquid in the dishwasher. She did not think this through and managed to hoover up her beads. A night of emptying the hoover and searching through the dust ensued.

Dizzy blonde receptionist goes to her Christmas party। This isn’t quite a disaster until you are in my position and have a drunken, hyper dizzy blonde receptionist jumping up and down on your bed at four o’clock in the morning! No, again, that is not a typo, it really was four o’clock and no, it wasn’t a weekend. This was a school night. A school night where I had to hear all about the night’s activity, she had found the ‘cool crew’ at her work and had decided she needed to get in with them, which considering on her first day she had told me everyone in the office was boring and she hated it, she had become one hell of a lot more enthusiastic about the place, but they may just be the effect of them giving her free drinks until four o’clock in the morning!

God help us survive the next six months!

The holiday is over…back to real life

The week spent at the hotel went quicker than I, or anyone else could have imagined. The weekend had approached and it was time to move in to the new place. In selecting the area we lived in, we choose very carefully, or as others may say, very naively. We simply selected by very few criteria; no further out than zone 2, no council accommodation and… that was about it. We ended up in Shepherds Bush.

The parents loaded up the car and made the long journey from Wales with all my worldly goods. The dizzy blonde receptionist had arrived before me on the Saturday, when my journey had begun on the Sunday. Her Mum & Dad weren’t allowed to leave her in the flat alone until I had arrived (should I have seen the warning signs from the beginning?) and then had to wait six hours for her to calm down enough before they could actually leave. My parents had left within a couple of hours of arriving. To be fair, I had pretty much pushed them out. The way dizzy blonde receptionist was acting she was being left on the other side of the world, not a two hour train journey away! To be honest, the only thing I can compare it to is watching a first time mother leave their baby for the first time (super nanny, Jo Frost would have a few words to say if she knew the dizzy blonde receptionist’s parents were still dealing with this tantrum). The baby will cry, but if the mother leaves they will soon be forgotten. The longer the mother draws out the goodbye the more unsettled the baby will get. JUST LEAVE! Really, it’s not hard!

Eventually they did and the dizzy blonde receptionist called the cheating boyfriend over to comfort her. We opened a bottle of champagne, supplied by my previous employers (thanks guys) and settled down to celebrate the bravery of our move. Our new life had begun.