Planning 2015: Where is the Time Going?

Behold! An image of no particular greatness, but which nevertheless sums up this stage in my life quite well. You see, this year is turning out to be quite the undertaking, encompassing a new job, house renovations (note the paint sample on the wall) and….what else…oh yeah I’m GETTING MARRIED. Did I mention that before?

I spent last year living with my Dad and away from my partner, but instead of regressing, I was determined to do a spot of growing up in 2014. As a result have totally overhauled the way I live my life. I’m aware that sounds terribly dramatic (I’m a drama teacher…sue me!) but I have changed a couple of fundamental things in my life, which means my life genuinely looks and feels different. I have a lovely home that I am so proud of, and a life that I am determined to make the most of. So I’m tidy now (shocked gasps) and I am genuinely, genuinely organised.

Or beginning to be. I’ve been on about 800 time management courses, and after all of them the one thing I have taken away is that keeping on top of things is a constant project. I’ve decided to make the most of what is left of this year, and begin Operation Smash 2015 In The Guts right now.

 

This Week I Was Grateful For #4

I’ve posted a similar picture of The Vines in Rochester before, but this is the park seen through new eyes. It all feels wonderfully similar, and wonderfully different since my Australian jaunt.

The path in this photos reminds me of the journey I’m on at the moment. I’ve got a few professional challenges coming up this year, and instead of freaking out about it, I’m choosing to be grateful for the opportunity to stretch my comfort zone.

I hope you all have a great start to the first week of March 2015. Do let me know what you’re getting up to in the comments!

The Hendersons Will All Be There

Last weekend I had the pleasure of singing an old favourite Beatles tune for about 30 minutes after visiting the newest addition to Rochester High Street. Reader, I give you:

Situated in the wonkiest shop in Rochester, possibly the world, The Hendersons is a treasure trove for vintage lovers and discerning shoppers alike. I know the shop well, by which I mean I know the physical shop, as I used to live in the tiny flat below!

I had heard rumblings of the shop opening as The Hendersons have held a stall for months at the Rochester Flea. Mr H and I are known for a deep and enduring love of a good rifle about for treasures, but we’re so overwhelmed with charity shops in Rochester that a bit of careful curation makes a real difference to my mental state, and therefore my likelihood to have a proper look around.

 

See? Happy as Larry.

 

There was a rather fabulous orange sectional sofa in the store that looked decidedly 70’s, but I didn’t manage to get a picture, because there was someone purchasing it!

The reasons that I am chuffed to bits about The Hendersons opening in Rochester are thus:

• Small entrepreneurship (especially where women are employed in key roles) is ace
• The Hendersons is run by a young couple – see, the youth of today aren’t too bad after all!
• That shop gets so much attention because of it’s unusual shape, that there should be something in there to benefit from it all!
• Their stock and styling is so deliciously on point that it makes me feel excited for Rochester. The more design-y and bespoke that Rochester gets, the better, in my book.
• Stores like this breed other stores like this, which makes people like me want to stay in Kent. We don’t need to go to London to get fabulous homewares, or to find that perfect gift for that friend that likes things just so.
• I bought a candle from there that smells good and though it cost a lot more than I would usually spend on a candle I didn’t feel remotely guilty because I am supporting a small business. Altruism for the win! (not sure it actually counts as altruism but I don’t care)

Mr H and I had a good all poke about, we got lovely attentive (but not too attentive) service and afterwards we got a delicious piece of cake from Bruno’s French Bakes to celebrate.

All in all, not a bad Saturday indeed.

This Week I Was Grateful For #3

If you follow me on Instagram, you may have seen this photo over the weekend. I asked Mr H to take a quick snap of me outside Restoration House, the most amazing Elizabethan Mansion sitting smack bang in the middle of Rochester.

I don’t always love photos of myself (let’s face it, who does?) but I love this photo. He’s captured me in a joyful moment, with the gratitude I feel about being back in England, in the middle of winter, wandering around with a ruddy marvellous chap, just radiating out of my face.

Did I tell you that I’m just so happy to be back?

Wedding Planning: The Shoes

I am aware that this post is terribly superficial, but for once (well….more than once but WHO’S COUNTING) I remain unapologetic.

You see, since my return to the UK, wedding planning has ramped up a notch or two, because we suddenly realised we had 150 people to feed and drink in just under six months time (check out my new countdown to the right), so we thought we better actually make sure that there’s something for them to do when they arrive.

Obviously the first point of action to address was my wedding shoes. I give you:

Okay, first things first, they never tell you at Blogging School* that it’s really hard to take pictures of your own feet that don’t look tremendously weird. Secondly, please disregard all the visible cat hair. Third of all, how great are these shoes? I adore them.

I’m not what you would usually call a ‘glittery’ kind of a gal, although I have my moments. I had my heart originally set on these pair of Rachel Simpson Blush Suede shoes, but when walking through Debenham’s last week, my eyes spotted these new beauties. At £26 they were over £150 cheaper than the Rachel Simpson ones. I’m not a millionaire but I’m also not opposed to spending money for good quality. I really had to convince myself to buy this cheaper pair! It’s totally absurd.

You may agree that I’ve fallen down the wedding industry hole, you know, the one that tells you that your wedding is the best day of your life and that you can totally justify spending three times as much on something because it’s for your ‘wedding’. The thing is, I want to be as generous as I can at my wedding, both in spirit and materially, for myself and my guests. I very much doubt Mr H and I will ever throw as big a party ever again. I want it to be amazing. But I also don’t want to bankrupt myself, and more to the point I don’t want to lose sight of my own personal values – the ones I use to independently judge the worth of something, rather than just swallowing the copy of wedding blogs that tell me that more somehow always means more.

In summary: I bought some new shoes to wear at my wedding. They were cheap and I LOVE THEM.

* Who am I kidding, I certainly did not go to Blogging School. Perhaps I should?

The Everyday Rhythm

Week 2 of my return to England is imminent, and so I thought a little catch up might be on the cards to let you know how I’m settling in. It’s been an up and down sort of a week to be honest, but let’s start with the positives because that makes us all feel better, no?

UP:

• Actually making it through Customs at Heathrow. Despite the fact I am doing absolutely nothing illegal, somehow the powerful stares of the Border Agency staff make me regret every decision I have ever made, particularly in the lead up to the moment when I’m asked to plonk my passport on their tiny desks. I made it through, as you may have guessed, and it was a GREAT MOMENT.
• Home. Bed. Cats.
• Wandering around Rochester and feeling both the foreigner and the local. An odd yet pleasing sensation.
• Picking up long awaited packages from the Post Office. Hello engagement present vouchers and Liz Earle Skincare. Nice to meet you.
• Having time to make dinner in the evening. I love to cook, so this is fun for me!
• Catching up with dear friends and feeling as if nothing has changed. Em, I adore you.
• Snuggling with Mr Hello in the morning for five more minutes before walking him into work.
• Getting excited for phase 2 of Operation Finish The House Before the Wedding. The phase where we freak out, that is.
• Exciting meetings with exciting people about future potentially exciting jobs. I may very well soon be an employed teacher! EXCITING.
• Catching up with Mr Hello’s folks. They are totally delightful and indulged my loves of their son, eating lots of delicious food, and looking at old photos. A Sunday well spent.
• Sitting in our study (above) and watching people walk past our house as I type.

DOWN:

• Turns out it’s not that much fun not having a job. On the one hand, there is more time for Parks and Recreation viewing, but on the other there is more time for getting the guilts about being a burden on society, and more to the point a burden on Mr H. Plus it’s a bit boring.
• No Polish passport as yet, which means no working until it arrives. A couple more weeks, but then hopefully I will have that burgundy booklet it my hot little hand!
• Missing my family. Goddamn it, why do I have to feel the feelings?
• Extreme hair has arrived. Something in the British water takes a while for me to adjust to, and in the meantime my hair freaks out in an unmanageable way, making me feel more self conscious than I already was. Thanks Life!
• To top it off, I am having a particularly bad skin phase, hence the timely arrival of the Liz Earle goodies.
• I have a wedding to co-plan in six months. How, where and why did that happen? Last time I checked, it was over a year away. God preserve me.
• It’s effing cold here and I am a delicate flower who has become accustomed to a certain level of UV radiation every day.
• This may well be the most boring thing in the world to approximately everyone, but last night I had a dream that Hannibal Lector (yep, that one) was showing me his latest victim, and opened up a hole in the ground to reveal a naked and screaming Jodie Foster within. I was subsequently stabbed. Got a bit freaked out by that one, I must admit, and it was only worsened by the fact that when I checked the time it was only……11:57 pm. Not even midnight, shamefully. I then had to calm myself down by reading blogs and looking at silly gifs on Tumblr until 2am. Whoops.

Hope all is well in your lives. Seeing as I am currently a member of the unemployed, I suspect I will be dropping in to HSGS Headquarters on a semi regular basis. Here’s to seeing a bit more of you!

9 Superficial Things I’ll Miss About Australia (No, it’s Not the Weather!)

But the weather ain’t half bad, just sayin’

It’s a truth universally acknowledged by a certain resident of Kansas that there’s no place like home. There are just some certain comforts that make you feel safe and secure, and while many of these are now available thanks to globalisation, there are a few silly things about Australia that I know I wistfully think of when back in Ol’ Blighty. Let’s get listing, shall we?

• The Size of Avocados – Being a part of the avocado lovin’ family that I am, this is *quite* a significant thing. Avocados in  Australia are deliciously bloody huge, creamy and ripe. On several occasions in the past I have had the misfortune to buy several avocados in England that have proceeded immediately from rock hard to completely rotten, totally bypassing any edible stage. This is important, you guys.
• Availability of Great Coffee – Look. It’s a lot better in Kent on the coffee side of things now, then it was in 2010 when I first came here. There are still many crappy tearooms selling crappy dishwater style coffee, but you can actually get a flat white here now, Lord be praised. But it’s just not quite as easy as popping down the road to Mooba, Lawley’s or Milkd, like I could in Perth. Heaven is a coffee flavoured place on earth. That’s a song, right?
• Grill’d & Jus Burger: 

Click for Source – Chi (in Oz)’s Photo Stream

 

Don’t know if there is much more I can say. Burgers. Delicious delicious burgers. Chunky chips. Before you say it, no, I         don’t live in London and no, Byron Burger is just not the same. Suitable replacement suggestions very welcome indeed.

• Cheap Public Transport – The People of Perth might disagree with me, but public transport is sooooo much cheaper there than in England. In the Motherland there is no such thing as a grace period, meaning you need a new ticket  every time you jump on the bus. For a non-car-owning citizen such as myself, this becomes rather problematic. Terribly interesting too, don’t you agree?
• David Jones Foodhall – I’m not saying that there is no equivalent in England. There is. It’s a tiny little shop known to the locals as Marks & Spencer, the greatest English shop of them all. But M&S is missing one crucial thing in my book, which gives my beloved DJ’s the advantage. That crucial element is the World’s Greatest Sushi Bar. I don’t know what it is about David Jones Sushi, but it’s bloody delicious and quite cheap really. It shall be missed.
• Frosty Fruit Icy Poles – Also known as quite a depressing icy pole if you’re a normal person, but the WORLD’S GREATEST SWEET TREAT when you’re trying to watch what you’re eating and are desperate for some kind of cold sweet treat on a hot Australian Summer’s day. It’s the little things you miss, you know?
• Tax Returns – Stay with me here guys. We don’t have to do these in England, but in Australia if you earn over X amount (I’ve forgotten how much because it’s been too long since I had a proper job :-/) you need to do a tax return, and if you’re lucky, it ends up that the Government owes you money and you get a nice little deposit into your bank account. A form of enforced savings, if you will. Luckily I’ve never had to repay any tax, although I know people who have, and that’s not fun in the slightest. But when I was saving for my travels, I worked three jobs and paid a lot of tax, and ended up with a $4,000 refund waiting for me come tax time. Thanks very much!
• No Electric Showers – Just typing out ‘electric shower’ makes me go a bit funny. Water pressure in Kent is technically known as ‘a bit shit’ and so if your bathroom is on the first floor or above you need an electric pump to get your shower on in the morning. In Australia I had the full force of outback water blasting me in the face every day, and by golly I’ll miss it. My English shower feels like a combination of being spat and weed on at the moment, and let me tell you, it’s not as fun as it sounds. Unless you’re into that sort of thing. I’d also like to point out that in England you’re not allowed so much as a powerpoint in the bathroom (you are in Australia!) but you can have an electric shower? MADNESS.
• Knowing How to Do ‘Life’ Stuff – Now this isn’t quite as superficial as the rest, but it’s something I’ll certainly miss. When you’re a local or a native citizen to a country, you end up just somehow knowing how life works, as if you’d picked it up by osmosis throughout your life. When you’re an immigrant, you forfeit that knowledge and so it just takes you that little bit longer to work stuff out. How to get a driving license, why you need a TV license, who pays council tax, what the hell council tax even is, who can vote and where. Having lived here for a few years, I’m much better than I used to be, but there are still times where I feel like a stranger, and I make the odd misstep. But I guess that’s life!

I returned to Rochester at about 9pm on Tuesday night, and it was incredibly surreal. I haven’t yet quite consolidated the fact that I’m back in my own house, with my own cats and my own fiancé. I haven’t yet begun to miss Australia too much, although I’m prepared for that to hit me when I am least prepared, as I’m sure those of you who have travelled will recognise.

This Week I Was Grateful For #1

 

Coffee. This specific coffee actually (although technically it was consumed last Sunday), as it was shared with my sister at Gordon St Garage in Perth. We were waiting for our Mum to arrive for our breakfast date, and when she did we had some tasty food (poached egg on some kind of amazing potato hash), chatted then did a little shopping at the outlet across the road. Quite satisfactory indeed.

I’m grateful for the coffee because it meant I got to spend time with women whom I love dearly but don’t see very often. We all live in different cities, which isn’t such a huge issue if we lived in say, England, but in Australia, another state is 3 hours and at least $400 away.

I read a quote once when I was working in a job with a manager in a remote office, but I think it is very apt for long distance families too:

Distance is about relationships, not geography

So I think it’s important to make the most of these coffees together when I have the chance.

How to be Parisian (and also: How Not To)

I have extreme doubts that this confession in any way distinguishes me from the general public, but regardless; it is well known in certain circles that I have a bit of a ‘thing’ for Paris. I would even go so far to say that Paris is my spiritual home. I feel like if I am good enough in this life, I may be lucky and reincarnated into my true, French form in the next. A girl can hope, hey?

This Christmas I was lucky enough to receive How to Be Parisian Wherever You Are by Sophie Mas, Audrey Divan, Caroline de Maigret and Anne Berest from my aunt. You could say that she knows me well. The lady knows how to spot a Francophile at 20 paces, let’s just put it like that, ok?

In all honesty, I completely devoured this book. It’s written in short, pithy chapters and takes you through first dates, friendships, marriage, men, and dinner parties with even a few tried ‘n true recipes thrown in for good measure. It is very tongue-in-cheek but honestly, that’s what I liked about it. It makes fun of itself, in that the authors know it’s ridiculous to want to be a Parisienne, because in some (many) respects, they themselves are faintly ridiculous. But they just do it with style.

I really recommend this book if you’re into a bit of French fun, and secretly believe that having a signature scent really is quite chic.

As a bonus for you all, here’s how to not be very Parisian when you’re taking photos. Even if your leggings are really rather splendid:

If you could be any other nationality, what would it be?

Moving Forward, Moving On

This image is what moving forward and moving on has looked like in recent years.

When I was 12 and a half we moved from the home of my childhood to a bigger town further north, much closer to my new high school. I was so excited for the move, and had many grand plans about how I was going to be the most popular girl in my class, and how high school would be exciting, wonderful and fun. Full of naive enthusiasm, and totally, totally oblivious.

Looking back I think this had something to do with the fact that the farm I lived on wasn’t sold until many years later, so I had that lovely sense of moving forward without too much changing behind me.

As the movers filled their trucks I wandered around the property, saying goodbye to the familiar hills, the dams we swam in many times, the rickety old fences and reticulation piping I could be consistently relied upon to trip over. I thought of the geese we’d had before, and the rock I stood on to feed them, pretending I was a sailor at the bow of a ship. I used to leave a couple of handfuls of grain in the bucket for our one goose with a deformed beak, which meant he had to strategically scoop the seed into his mouth rather than peck. He was imaginatively named Beaky.

I wandered around, saying goodbye to trees and bushes because I was a child, and moreover a child who spent a considerable amount of time in a fantasy land of her own. A big property is fruitful land for many things, not least a child’s imagination.

If I was ever asked the day that my childhood ended I would say without doubt or rancour, that this was the day.

This post was written in response to the prompt ‘disappearing’