London, a love story
A tourist, pictures and places, passing through with excitable awe,
Promising to return for a longer stay, head and a heart full of future.
Seeking prospects, property, aspirations but ignoring lovelife all around.
A student, scary intrigues leading to even more fearful examination,
Questions answered by waves of further inquiries, my tribe member found.
Ignoring prospects, property, aspirations and seeking lovelife all around.
An immigrant, waiting for approval, that can only be found from a hug,
Daydreams distract from the desperation, a friendly family formed.
Low prospects, lovely property, high aspirations, ugly lovelife by the sea.
An assistant, commuting underground, fighting grabby hands and leers,
To find dramatics both in work and play, Olympic Jubilations embraced.
High prospects, ugly property, low pay, lovely lovelife in the city.
A girlfriend, leaps to the suburbs and into self employment hoping to find a net,
Commuting, compromising, charging ahead, creating a home together.
Low rent, freelancing pay and exploring everything London has to offer.
A wife, seeking a persistent living to charge career ahead but sexism governs,
Travelling, compromising, struggling yet deciding to create a life together.
High rent, underpaid employment and exploring everything online about babies.
A mother, scared, breaking, struggling every second and searching for relief,
Frightening forces of love fling me through isolation, learning what true strength is.
Seeking futures for two, domestic servitude and anxious explorations in parenthood.
A house parent, nervous enthusiasm met with continual resistance and struggles,
Full on schedules chain me to six more lives, challenging everything I thought I knew.
Seeking futures for the masses, educational servitude and expanded views in parenthood
If these walls could talk…
I believe it would have a voice that sounded like Harry Enfield doing an impression of Margaret Thatcher.
Reciting codes of conduct, while side whispering pervy incidents to you while you sleep. Anytime you would mention a problem outloud the walls would swiftly open in on one of many tragic stories from its 100 year existence as a school, to showcase how good things are in the present. These stories fill the listener with gratitude until ultimately it begins slipping into sexist rants. “Women shouldn’t be allowed to vote while menstruating, it clogs up their decent judgments. That is science!”
You might be able to tell I am losing the plot.
I got sick. Then real sick. Then real real sick. And now I am just sick. Sick of being out of the social realms of life. Sick of feeling crazy tired 24/7. Sick of being in pain. Sick of fevers. Sick of being sick.
I cannot hold my concentration. I cannot work on my resume - which needs some tuning up! I cannot be a good wife, good house parent, good mum or a good me!
I have not been this kind of sick in a long time, my entire immune system just went on holiday. Leaving me to smush what is left back together.
What do they say when you are ill?
What can you not do at all when a stay at home parent…. you got it.
That part is the worst. I feel like crap. Peaches just wants to show me everything ever - as she is jazzed about everything. “A fly, mum. A fly! Fly!” Baby Girl, mommy is sick and does not give a rats patootie about what you can see in the windows, love of my life.
I am grumpy. I am grizzled. I just want to wrestle this illness into submission - but for now. I will take advantage of the girl being at nursery and take a nap.
Cold sweat forms on my brow as I carefully look over the information on the screen. I go to push the button and the last decade flashes through my mind. My head begins to float as I try to remember purchasing my first one-way ticket to London.
But I can’t.
I remember selling my car to pay for it. I remember having to purchase it last minute. I remember thinking how foolish I was for not saving more over the last year. I remember sitting with my parents trying to both “kill” time and make it stop while waiting in the airport before the first leg of my journey. I remember trying to burn my families’ images, voices and embraces into my brain. I remember trying not to cry too much and to focus on the moments ahead.
I remember trying to appear strong but feeling like I was made out of sugar glass.
Things are very different in America now. As am I. A girl left but now will return as a woman. Have I changed for the better? How has my family members changed? How has the job market changed? How has the political atmosphere altered? These are all things running through my head.
It’s bought. Three one way flights to the U.S. It’s happening. BLIMEY. Not that this is a spur of the moment decision. We have discussed it for years, it took 14 months for us to go through the Visa process, several months of downsizing / packing up family possessions and a month to make Peaches an American citizen. So. This is happening!!!
Wait, I’m confused, what is happening…..
...oh let me explain. In July my South African partner and British daughter are moving to America with me. There will be some alterations to the blog/instagram as we transition. Some further delays in posting may be possible (as we do not even own laptops anymore… whhhhhhhhat. #DOWNSIZING). But. I will keep the writing up - in whatever form it may evolve into. I am still a dummie. The writing will continue, I hope you dear reader, will come along for the ride.
Not an instructional blog but the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth - so help me Mom.