How to... get sacked!

Still reminiscing; I was reminded of my first day at my first job in London. It was memorable because within 4 hours of starting, I was sacked.

I had taken a risk by registering with a new recruitment agency, and had secured a locum position on the acute wards of a large hospital in South London about a month before moving to London; however in the week before starting, they had changed their mind and I was jobless. At the time I was snowboarding in Switzerland, so this new recruitment consultant sweet-talked his way into my resume, and promptly spammed the inboxes of every SLT manager in London shouting my praises trying to get me (and him) a contract. He certainly caught my ear when he told me I'd been 'headhunted' and that my name was being tossed around by London managers who were interested in having me on board.

A day later, he found me a job. I was told it was acute. I was told it was inpatients. Despite asking numerous times, I was assured that my criminal record check, ID, heck, even my surname and address, were not necessary before starting. I believed him. He even had the nerve to tell me I was worrying about nothing.

I turned up on day one.

A year ago today

Kleine Scheidigg

So I'm sitting on the lounge with a terrible head cold, reminiscing about where I was exactly a year ago today.

I know exactly where I was; at a bus station in Dover, East Kent, feeling sick to the stomach and wondering what on earth I had got myself into. I was terribly anxious, not least because I was worried the coach wouldn't arrive and I'd be left in a deserted building too late to get a train home.

A week beforehand, I had been working in East Kent, living in hospital accommodation, and could count the friends I'd made in the UK on one hand. I had just secured my first locum position in London, and had just found a London flat to live in. I was moving in a week's time. I had been attending St Helen's Church in London for about 7 months; commuting a whopping 2 hours each way to get there by bus, train and tube.

Church was exhausting; each week sitting next to someone different (and equally welcoming), but not really meeting the same person twice. For 7 months I had the same conversation every single Sunday:

"Hi, I'm ...... And you are?"
"Lindsay."
"Nice to meet you. Are you new to St Helen's?"
"No, I've been coming here for ..... months."
"Great! What RML are you in?" (RML is the weekly small group.)
"Oh I can't go to an RML. I live too far away."
"Where do you live?"
"Margate."
"Margate?!?! In Kent?"
"Yep."
"How long does it take you to get here?"
"2 hours."
"Oh my goodness. Oh, hang on, the service is starting / I have to go. Nice to meet you."

That's how every single conversation went. Apart from a girl who took my phone number, texted me the following week and the weeks afterwards, and met me at the entrance to church nearly every week.

Oh, and the people I met a few weeks before my birthday, who threw me a 30th birthday party. Yep, I spent my 30th birthday with a bunch of strangers. It was great!

I digress. Anyway, the girl I had become friends with had suggested we go on the church ski trip. It was a great deal; and included a return coach trip all the way from London to Switzerland. It sounded like fun. On a whim, I agreed.

But then I changed my mind a few weeks before the trip...

My (not so endless) numbered days

Every adventure comes to an end eventually. Every Tier 5 visa has an expiration date.

In 60 days I'll definitely* be on a flight home to Australia.

I have no idea whether this move will be temporary or permanent.

For months now, I've been waiting to find out if my work will sponsor me to stay in the UK on a Tier 2 Work Permit visa. And with 60 days to go, I'm no closer to knowing.

In the next 60 days, my job may rise to the top of a list of jobs to be approved to be advertised for application. Right now

How I know I'm a Londoner

10 ways London has rubbed off on me...

1. I've adopted the London scowl.

The London Scowl unexpectedly came in very useful.

Perfected within my first week on the London underground, this peculiar facial expression is distinctive amongst Londoners who have to brave the London underground in peak hour. I swear it's evolutionary, a survival-of-the-fittest to ensure you make it to work alive. The look says 'I'm LATE, YOU'RE in MY WAY, and where I have to be is VERY IMPORTANT because I am VERY IMPORTANT, so get OUT OF MY WAY.' You need this look so that tourists get out of your way, children are scared into silence, and pregnant and disabled people lose the confidence to ask for your seat.As demonstrated above, the scowl can also be used to ward off potential (drunk) suitors.

2. I don't make eye contact in crowds.

Gah.

Londoners don't stick to walking on the left, or right, or any sort of order on the streets. So I found myself constantly in those awkward 'sorry dances' you do when both people try to get out of each others way. Someone told me the only way to stop running into people was to stop looking at them. It works! Want to get through a crowd? Stare into the middle distance as you walk, avoid any eye contact, and miraculously, everyone moves out of your way.

3. Most of what I eat is pre packaged.

Mmmm... and S.

Don't judge. Everything you would want to eat comes out of a box in London. Most central London supermarkets are the size of service station grocery sections, so buying anything that requires more than a zap in the microwave is quite difficult. The food that does come out of a box is such good quality that you'd never know. Pre-marinated steaks, sushi, fresh sandwiches, even fresh fruit and veggies are all pre-washed, pre-cut, zap in the bag. Cooking ingredients are a rare thing in this city.

4. Most of my coats and jackets come with hoods.

Everyone loves a hood. Except Jess.

Umbrellas in central London at peak hour are as useless as a chocolate teapot, and as welcome as a fart in a phone box. But survive the rain I must, so the hood is indispensable.

5. The first thing I do when anyone walks into a room is put the kettle on and offer everyone tea. It's like a reflex response.

Cream Tea in The Lake District.

 More ways continued...

Fashion spotlight #5

Helsinki, Finland.
Even in sub zero temperatures, there's never an excuse for not wearing your crocs.

Happy Jubilee!

Thanks to Lizzie for a four day weekend and lots of opportunities to party.

In no particular order...

A Victoria sponge was baked:

I stood on my balcony on Saturday and watched a mini-flotilla of blow up rafts team up with the river boats down Regent's Canal. Of note was this slightly dramatic slow motion crash, due to an inability of one of the river boats to make a timely three point turn:

Saturday night, I saw Coldplay at the Emirates Stadium. Ah-mazing!!

Everyone was given a wristband that lit up and flickered to the music.

On Sunday we queued with thousands of other flag bearing Brits to watch the flotilla:

We had a good view of the screen, and if we jumped really high, we could see the tops of some of the boats.

Get excited for mini bunting.

Actually, we watched it exactly the same way my Aussie friends did, on a big screen. But we did it in true English fashion, standing for three hours in the drizzle. My stiff upper lip got a workout.

On Monday I watched everything from the comfort of my lounge, before heading off to watch the concert from the comfort of someone else's lounge.

But the best bit, Friday night, we celebrated in true Royal style, accompanied by Kanye West:

A great weekend indeed!

Fashion spotlight #4

The always-orderly queue at the Easyjet boarding gates (get your elbows out, people). Nice, France.
I'm guessing there was a "buy 2 stripey shirts, get a 3rd free" deal.

Something for Kate

It's my friend's 30th birthday today, and I'm missing it. But I get to see her in 30 days.
I made a Spotify playlist especially for her, without realising Australia doesn't have Spotify so she can't hear it!
So Katie, this post is for you. 30 songs over 30 days defining our friendship.
Cannot wait to see you!

Song 30:

Our friendship began with this common denominator.

Song 29:

The most recent artist introduction, over a year ago!

Song 28:

The only part of one of your favourite movies that I like...

Song 27:

Happiness, in a song.

Song 26:

Could listen to this all day, thanks to you!

Song 25:

Homesick song. Ignore the fact that I don't live in Broome...

The kindness of strangers

Just when you think you run out of material to blog about...

So, what do you do when your tyre explodes on a country road with no streetlights at midnight in 4 degree weather with no phone reception? No, this is not a made up story...

Downsides to locuming

There are so many benefits of locuming that it's not a wonder the UK is crammed full of Aussies hopping around the country from hospital to hospital, earning their living and saving for their next holiday, year after year.

I've been reflecting on some of the benefits of locuming, and here are a few thoughts:

Fashion spotlight #3

This guy was spotted on my drive to work in central Canterbury.
His body language suggests he didn't want to be spotted, in a onesie, on a main road in peak hour.
His outfit suggests otherwise.

The winter of my life

Margate, Kent 4/2/2012

Sometimes you have to endure the cold, dark, harsh winters in your life 

With the faint but sure knowledge that sure as time rolls on

There is a promise, a hope, a new season. 

A blossoming spring.

This is not a metaphor for anything. I'm over winter.

I liked the new experience of snow and everything it brought, but winter has turned me in a carb guzzling, doona-dwelling, DVD watching blob.

A friend wondered if I had SAD (seasonal affective disorder). I don't think there's anything wrong with seeing minus 5 on the weather app and thinking, "hmmm.... nup. I'm staying right here. Shopping can wait another day."

Being outside for any period of time was an exercise in keeping out the wind, keeping in the heat, and getting to some form of air conditioning as soon as possible. Once at home, there was never a reason to venture back out. iPhones left in cars stayed there overnight. Urgent letters to be mailed, rubbish to be taken out... none of these were important enough to justify sub zero exposure.

When shopping, I found myself buying long life milk, and stocking up on pantry imperishables (that's such a mature adult word. Makes me think of bomb shelters and food drives...).

Anyway, I'm ready for Spring. 

Until it comes, I'll read poems about winter.

Winter-Time by Robert Louis Stevenson

Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.


Before the stars have left the skies,
At morning in the dark I rise;
And shivering in my nakedness,
By the cold candle, bathe and dress.


Close by the jolly fire I sit
To warm my frozen bones a bit;
Or with a reindeer-sled, explore
The colder countries round the door.


When to go out, my nurse doth wrap
Me in my comforter and cap;
The cold wind burns my face, and blows
Its frosty pepper up my nose.


Black are my steps on silver sod;
Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;
And tree and house, and hill and lake,
Are frosted like a wedding cake.

Fashion spotlight #2

Spotted on a train to Brighton.

The person wearing these was most definitely over 65. 

Glam at any age.

Those speechie phrases, interpreted

Found this list while clearing up today. Was shocked and horrified, and quickly put it out of sight, and then realised, the shock and horror came from actually having heard these phrases uttered, by other health professionals, and perhaps even by myself, on the rehab ward.
On bad days in inpatient brain injury rehab, dark humour might be the only laugh you get.

The daily commute aka why I love Kent

 From the rising of the sun to the place where it sets, the name of the Lord is to be praised. (Yep, ok!)

Psalm 113:3.

Christmas and New Year Adventure

Click here for a slideshow of the Christmas and New Year Adventure

Still working out how to do this so apologies if it doesn't work properly.
I spent 6 days in Finnish Lapland over Christmas and 4 in Austria for New Year.
Click on the link above and I think it'll take you to a slideshow of my flickr account. (Now to figure out exactly what a flickr account is...)

Fashion spotlight #1

Snapped through a shop window (hence the glare) in Antwerp, Belgium.

Glitter Uggs.
For those more... ahem... formal occasions.

How to do winter, part 3

Last week I giggled at the aisles and aisles of "Winter car care" products for sale in my local supermarket.

De-icer, grit, insulating blankets, scrapers... none of these words exist in my vocabulary.

This morning I realised they now do. Thick frost encrusted my car from the door handles up.

And no de-icer or scraper in sight.

A quick trip back to the apartment to have a mini freakout and I emerged armed and ready with... a plastic kitchen spatula.

I'm sure I amused the daylights out of the passing residents watching me shave the ice off my windscreen, sortof like I was cleaning off a barbeque. All without gloves, mind you...

After a full minute of scraping.

Quick! Get in the car and start driving before it just ices over again!

Made a classic rookie mistake by thinking a bit of windscreen wiper and windscreen wiper fluid action once I was in the car would help things along.
Frozen windscreen + frozen windscreen wipers + windscreen wiper fluid = new thick coating of gloopy soapy ice smeared all over the windscreen.

Start over.

How to do winter, part 2

Winter fashion.

Where form meets function. Or some rubbish like that.

Some of my awesome winter purchases:

By far my favourite. Water resistant suede and wool blend snow boots. Complete with Paddington-bear toggle opening at the side, to avoid those awkward try-to-get-your-boots-off-at-someone's-front-door hopping-about-like-an-idiot moments. Verdict's out on whether these are actually properly waterproof, but they're so pretty it doesn't matter. Land's End.

 

Slightly less glamorous, but oh-so-practical, waterproof snow boots. Complete with fake fur tops to keep the wind out. They make me walk like a gangsta. Word. Debenhams.

  

Thermal socks. I actually have 2 pairs of these, as well as some heat-generating socks. Not sure how they work, but they definitely do keep my toes toasty warm. Marks and Spencers. 

 

 Ah, the dilemma of keeping one's hands warm and freeing one's fingers for tasks such as driving and nose picking. The solution: hoodie gloves. Too cute for words. Although with the hoodie in situ, my hands are fairly useless for anything except a right hook. Beware: some imitations leave one's thumb without a hood. Poor thumb! John Rocha by Debenhams.

 

Got a little carried away in the gloves department. Black thermals with fur cuff on the left. Chocolate leather lined with cashmere at the top (these gloves are so divine that I've developed a really embarrassing habit of making a weird motion with my hands that looks a little like I'm practising grabbing someone's boobs, just so that my fingers move about on the inside of the gloves to brush against the cashmere inside. I also have a bad habit of putting my hands to my face to feel and smell the buttery soft leather. Mmmmm). Beige suede on the right. 

But the problem remains. How does one answer an iPhone in a timely fashion, without desperately ripping the gloves off with one's teeth while hunting around for the phone?

 Solution: Smart Touch gloves. These babies, by magic and science, allow the use of a touchscreen through the gloved fingertips (the silver bits). The shiny bits are actually rubber grip. These are only slightly more attractive than my photo suggests. Now, to find these in chocolate leather lined in cashmere...

Cologne Christmas markets. Hoodie gloves in action. Drinking gluwein.

My very first winter purchase was a down-filled jacket from Zara. Again, at first I laughed at the concept. But I wear this jacket nearly every day as a staple wardrobe item. It's light, incredibly warm, and has a silly hood:

Silly hood. Falls too far forward unless you do the jacket all the way up.

Cologne Christmas markets. Earmuff beanie in action. Again, drinking gluwein.

Ah, let's just put up some more Cologne pics. So pretty!

Buttery soft chocolate cashmere lined leather gloves in action. Evidently all the gluwein and stollen has gone straight to my face hence looking like a bloated fatty boom sticks. Didn't have time to send this pic to Rowen for pre-publication weight-loss Photoshopping. Granted I am wearing about 5 layers underneath my jacket.

I do believe I am prepared for winter.