Round up

A quick round up of what's been going on as I have not been posting lately.

I am back in London and have just completed my first week at a contract post in charityland. The charity I am working for is based in a building on the south bank of the river, right next to the MI6 building. That's where the international spies work. I think they must have an alternative entrance as most of the people I see going in and out from the street look far to ordinary to be international people of mystery.

My contract is for 10 weeks, but I hope it will be extended.

I have been based this last week in a weekly rental in Seven Kings, in Essex, to the east of London. Not the plushest of neighbourhoods but tomorrow I move over to a houseshare I have found in East Dulwhich. This is just next door the the quarter I used to live in before the Gran Can days and so it is nice to be near to my old friends.

Things with Mr. C have settled down a bit. It shouldn't take an ocean between us to improve our relationship but it has and I will not complain for that. He hopes to come over in September for a few days and then I can go out at the end of October, when the first part of the contract is complete.

After that, we don't know what will happen. We know we want to build a life together but not how or where or doing what.

So that's what is going on with me for the time being. More normal posting will be resumed when I am settled in and connected up to the t'interweb.

By the way, I am VERY excited about my first proper weekend this week.

Scabby kneed girl

When I was a little girl I was one of those children that could not leave a scab alone. It would not matter that my mum would tell me that I would cause a scar, perhaps that thought used to encourage me, I would pick and pick at the scab. I was very careful, just trying to take off the edges without making the wound bleed.

It seems that I have not outgrown this habit of worrying a wound.

Even though Mr. C tells me that he needs time, I can't resist the urge to call or to message him. I try not to email as however I word them they just seem to read wrong.
So I think, "I know, if I call and am all cheery and interested in what is going on then he will remember why we used to think each other lovely and all will be well."

This is not working, I seem to be annoying him even more to the point where I realise I could just end up with a big bloody scar to show for my troubles.

Devon Life

Here I am in Devon and jolly nice it is too.

I got the train down on Thursday, always a nice journey especially the last tootle along the estuary to where my mum lives. Since then I have done not very much. Yesterday I had a lovely walk along the seafront and beach.

Something I miss in GC is the long sandy beaches of the south west of England. All the resorts in the south of Gran Can have man made beaches, which are very nice, but I do miss the wild, cliff edge Devon beaches, and the sand here doesn't have to be imported.

Mind you the sea is far too cold for the likes of me to do more than dip a toes in. I did paddle, okay I just stood at the edge of the water and let it ripple over me, with so much ocean dipping my toes in makes me feel connected to Mr. C, knowing he will be swimming in some other part of it that day too.

Daft really, but I guess we all have our small quirks and superstitions.

Recruitment consultants say the funniest things...

I have now seen four recruitment consultants, well technically six consultants in four agencies and they do seem to have a knack for asking funny questions.

I expect it isn't the questions that are funny in themselves but given the context they seem to be a bit innane.

Question: "So what is your ideal job?"

I am being a little harsh, after all it is their job to find out what kind of thing you want to do, but your ideal job may not be the job you are trying to get. I would have thought most people are trying to get the ideal next job, rather than their actual ideal job. So I did manage not to say, "bed tester with chocolate taster on the side"

This next one is my favourite; on talking through my CV with me the consultant got to my first job working at a charity, I had worked at a fundraising agency prior to that, and asked me, "so how did you get that job?"

I am sorry, I couldn't help it, it seemed such an odd question, so what I said in reply was, "well you know I applied and they must have thought I was ace and I got it."
Maybe what the lady meant to ask was something along the lines of, "what made you decide to move from agency to client side work?" But asking me HOW I got the job, how strange. Or am I being tough on her?

Well not that these curiously curious consultants have done me much good so far. I have had two interviews and am waiting to hear from both. I am not holding out too much hope on them.

Tomorrow I go down to Devon to visit with my mum until Sunday, then I will probably come back up to London. If nothing turns up next week I may go back to GC. What has been good is that I now know that I could make a decent living doing contract work here and keep a flexible lifestyle, however I also know that I would very much like to go back and be with Mr. C.

If we can work out how long we are going to be on GC for and what we might want to do next then that might help me settle into a non career type job there. I love London, but anywhere is always going to be more fun if Mr. C is there too.
That plus even the biggest hissy fit I could throw has to come to an end sometime.

London, week 1

I have been in London just under a week now and I have got quite a bit done.

I had meetings with three recruitment agencies, another on Monday, and on Friday I had an interview with a charity for a three month contract postition. I discover on Monday if I have the position and from then I make my next decision as to what happens next.

I have also had a lovely time catching up with friends over the last week. One of my favourites has been catching up with my friend Glyn, who, after my abridged version of events, plainly pointed out that I was in entirely the wrong country to sort out my marriage. We then moved on to more pressing topics such as which chinese restaurant to eat supper in.

It seems I have brought the sunshine with me and we are having glorious weather at the moment. I met up with a group of friends yesterday and we headed out to St James park with picnic provisions and sat around eating, drinking and chatting for the whole afternoon.
This doing nothing much socialising is something I have missed, I am not sure I ever did it that much before I left London, it is something I would like to do more of wherever I am. Beach or park, pootling is good.

In the park there was a band playing in the bandstand, they were doing a movie themes medly, and deckchairs a plenty. We even saw a pelican out for a walk along the pathway. He seemed to be going nowhere in particular and was not put out by the group of humans that surrounded him, photographed and occassionally petted him. I had not been so close to a pelican before, they are big creatures and he was a spotless white. Maybe he was something of an exhibitionist to keep himself so carefully clean and court the audience of the crowd.

Today I have two social functions, one a jive dance party organised by my friend Seamus, whose birthday we were picnicing yesterday, and the other a grand picnic in Greenwhich park for Genni's tall fella's birthday. Of course in the nature of London invitations these two events start at the same time at oposite ends of town. So planning is called for.

I have decided to start with the dance party first. It is was a simple decision, if I start with Guys' Grand Picnic then I will sit in the sunshine all afternoon drinking wine and eating trifle and end up slightly drunk and sicky and in no way fit to go dancing.
With the dancing first I can pootle along to the picnic at the later stages when everyone else is slightly drunk and sicky and not have to worry about breaking my ankle or some such.

I do have a complaint to make about London.

Air conditioning. In GC despite the heat we don't use air conditioning. Mr. C is against it on health grounds as he believes going from cold to hot air agravates the sinuses and gives you a snotty nose, not good for diving.
I have always been slightly suspicious of air conditioning because it just swills around all the germs in the air and pumps them back out at you. Having said that when you work in an office in the middle of a London summer air conditioning is a blessing.
Returning to London after 2 years away, which have been cold and sore-throat free, I was a bit nervous of the terror or air conditioning.

I was right to be. The second day here I had a cold, the third day inflamed tonsills and on Friday I lost my voice. I am now possessed by the evil snot monster and sound like a I should be working on one of those sex phone lines relieving men of their frustrations and their credit card details.

Hurrumph to evil air conditioning!

The London diaries

Well hello and welcome to "A Gran Can Life - The London Diaries"

Yes, here I am, back in Blighty and it is cold, cold, cold. Everyone is telling me this is the best weather they have had all year, so they must have had some pretty rotten stuff thrown at them, poor loves.

So how is it to be back in London? Well London is dirty and smelly and just as vibrant as ever. Full of strange folk and wierd ways, so just the same really.
By the way, the tube REALLY smells.
The street smell is like diesel dust, if there is such a thing, whereas the underground has a strange dry, dusty, dirty smell.

It isn't bad, it is just the special tube smell you only get here. Quite a contrast to the dry sunshine dust smell of GC. Mind you, where we live was smelling of burnt mountain when I left and I read that half of the pueblo up the road from the flat has burnt down. Not good. Mr. C is all in one piece which I am very grateful for.

Workwise, I have had meetings with charityland employment agencies and have a couple of interviews lined up for some short term contract work for the next couple of months. The last week has left me with the clear knowledge that I need to work, and I have to enjoy my work.

While I have always had outside interests to fill my time, such as sewing and dancing, I have to enjoy my work life too. I do realise how lucky I have been to have work that I have enjoyed, in charity land and in GC. The downside, as I discovered recently, is that when you enjoy your work and put so much into it then you are at risk of losing yourself if you lose you job.

And maybe that has been the crux of the problem. I have felt a loss of identity. So much of the last 18 months have been about running the divecentre as Mr. and Madame. C that without that I am at a loss as to know who I am.

Of course, now I am here I am thinking that I should have stayed and stuck it out with a job I wasn't sure of. At least I would be in the same country as my husband and it is probably easier to work on a marriage when geography doesn't come between you.

But here I am and going to these interviews will at least tell me if I really want to be here doing this or if I am just here on some drama-queen-tantrum visit.

Even if I don't stay so long this time then the meetings with agencies have been useful, as I now know that there is an option to work in charity land as a contractor. This could be something for the future, whatever happens, that allows me to earn relatively good money, but keep a flexible lifestyle for scuba adventures with Mr. C.

So while I am sad not to be with Mr. C at the moment and sad for the turmoil we have both experienced recently, I have to believe that it will all be okay.