Farewell W2 5TQ

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times" - A tale of Two Cities: Charles Dickens

Flat 91. With an air of certainty I can confidently say this will be the last time I walk these corridors of the Royal Oak Villas. The dimly lit hallway, littered with crayons, rubbish and temporarily parked prams has been an eyesore for the last 3 months. Majority of my London experience has taken place here at Royal Oak. My first rental property, my first European Holiday, my first visitor, my first job offer. I leave the house in similar conditions to how I arrived. With nobody around. My (ex) room-mates are all out, working or socialising. I pull the door close for the last time. The turgid air laden with subcontinental spices invades the nostrils as I push my way through the hallway doors to the lifts. It will be the last time I catch the lift down from the 14th floor.

The rhythmic sound of the suitcase wheels click behind me. It's 9 pm as I drag my belongings through the park en route to the Tube Station. As I pass three young girls, one of them yells "Oi!". A young male in front of me turns around, he pauses then without warning removes his belt and runs off into the middle of the park. I stare into the darkness he just disappeared into. Suddenly the tension in the park intensifies. Before I realise what is happening I see another youth being pursued by a group of young-uns. "Get him!" one of them yells. A group of young males are chasing a young black male through the park. He trips and they pounce on him like a pack of hyenas on a wounded animal.

The attackers reign down stomps and fists as those wielding belts unleash leather fury onto his body. Unfortunately for the victim, the darkness of the park shrouds majority of the viciousness. Bracing against the barrage of attacks he manages to get to his feet and fend off the would-be thugs. His flight leaves him disorientated losing his hat and a shoe. Bystanders (I included) are watching as he runs out of the park through and across the main road. Cars are the least of his worries as headlights flash and horns blare. The youths retreat back into the park, the chase is over. I cross the road moments later, passing the prey as I walk to the Tube Station. "Did you get my shoe?" he asks a one of the females from the beginning. Still breathing heavily, he feigns towards the park and with both hands in the air yelling with contempt "I'll f**k you up!" (sic).

I'm going to miss this place...

Work to Live

The sentiment that most London newcomers commonly share is the disdain for the weather. Today is slightly different. A deep blue sky has decided to make a rare cameo appearance providing an award winning supporting role to a glorious Friday morning. Suffice to say, only the naive would classify a day as glorious with the metric of a cloudless sky. The main reason is that after 176 days of a negative cash flow I have finally been paid. Cue the angelic horns!

I think my biggest disappointment is, once I got paid, only then, did life suddenly feel normal again.

"It's a lovely day, just got paid. Stack it up, be on my way." - Lovely Day: Written by Bill Withers.

Knock, knock ...

Rewind. When I first arrived in London I had one simple plan. Find a job. That was it. Should this plan backfire I had devised an equally simple contingent: If, come October I was still unemployed, I would simply return home with an empty bank account, a bruised ego and a multitude of stories. Given the uncertain nature of my London Nudie Run chapter you can understand my apprehension of signing into a long term lease. With this in mind I needed a sojourn for three months. My criteria would be as follows: Something short-term, something relatively cheap and something within central London.

After countless viewings I eventually came across an advertised flat share in the Westminster suburb of Royal Oak. The room was being advertised as a 3 month short let within an ex-council block of flats. The room would be vacant for 3 months and during this time I would be entitled to use the room at a reduced price of £480 per calendar month plus a £250 bond. The current tenant was heading back to Spain for three months and would return to London at the start of October. So at least I thought...

Fast forward. "Come in!" I shouted late yesterday evening in response to a knock on my door. The door eased open and standing in the hallway was the owner of the room. "Hey! You're back one month early" I tentatively queried. Turns out he came all the way back to London for an exam and would only be staying for a night or two before returning to Spain. Now this isn't the point of my post. The point is, I had just finished my laundry and had hung my laundry all about the room.



To the unknowing observer the room was a complete mess. It looked like the result of a washing machine that had been strapped with dynamite and placed in the middle of my room. It required closer inspection to see that my clothing was strategically placed around the room to dry. Shirts hanging off his blinds, socks stuffed his cupboard handles and underwear hanging off his desk lamp, his TV and his bed.


As we talked I couldn't help but notice his eyes stray around the room. Eyes darting backwards and forwards interrogated everything all while his mouth chatted away. I stood there trying to imagine what could be going through his mind. The best I could come up with was "Ay Caramba! His underwear is everywhere!". Imagine coming back home only to find some body's shit scattered all over your room. I just hope I get my bond back, otherwise I'm not going to wash my clothes before hanging them up...

I ♥ Paris (Kinda)

First weekend away during Autumn would be spent in the absorbing city of Paris. Despite having 2 whole days to explore I still managed to side step the more famous sites. What tour of Paris would be complete without a visit into the Louvre or a photo of the Eiffel Tower? Well, here it is. Paris without the star attractions!

Saturday
Notre Dame:

Du Louvre:
Place de Concorde:
Arc de Triomphe:
Basilique du Sacré-Coeur:

Sunday

Walt Disney Studios:
Euro Disneyland:

Food

I'll put more effort into the next post...

Long weekend: Madrid

There are particular words or phrases that transcend countries and cultures. Take for example, "Hot summer". For many Londoners this is regarded as any temperature that takes the mercury past 24 degrees Celsius. It should be noted that any sunshine is enough for a local to rip off their t-shirt and head to the park for some much needed vitamin D. Another example would be the phrase "Summer Bank Holiday Long Weekend". This on the other hand only means one thing in London: "Get out of London for 3 days!". So naturally we did that. The destination? Madrid, Spain.


I raced home after work, that's right folks, I'm employed and at this moment in time not enjoying it (but that's for another post). Did my laundry and turned in for an early night a couple of hours later I was up and out of the flat by 3:30 am. At 4:00 am I caught the Easybus 757 from Gloucester Place and was shuttled off to Luton airport.

The flight was bearable and allowed me to catch up on some much needed sleep for the weekend ahead. I awoke 30 minutes before landing to find my neighbour eagerly looking my way. "Sorry, I didn't want to wake you, do you mind if I go to the toilet?". Such manners, makes me wonder what would have happened if I had said "no" and gone back to sleep.


Disembarking from the plane we were greeted by our host at Madrid Barajas International Airport. It should be noted that the person we're staying with I have only met once in my life. Immediately we were whisked away back to her place in Getafe. Upon entering the house we were exposed to a beautiful house with modern decor and an adorable 1 year old baby with a knack of calling everybody "baba". Congee was served for lunch followed by a quick car wash and our afternoon spent absorbing European Art at Museo del Prado.



The 2 hour stroll through the museum with our lack of sleep had finally caught up to us. Taking it upon ourselves we indulged in a little afternoon Spanish ritual known as a siesta. At 10 pm we headed out for dinner (normal time apparently). On the menu tonight was Japanese/Chinese cuisine at the delightfully and delicious Jade Colonial. After many months living in London, the freshness of the food was welcomed by all. With all members sporting sizable bags underneath the eyes we sucked it up and hit the town for a spot of partying. We were driven to Buddha del mar which oddly reminded me a little of Tao in Vegas. The night ended in a blur: €200 for a bottle of vodka. Drinking games. Intoxication. Sleep.

Despite having little to no sleep the previous night we awoke scattered about the house wanting more sleep. In Spain "Hot summer" represents 35 degrees of unadulterated warmth framed by cloudless skies and 9:00 pm sunsets. Given the nature of our previous day we lazed about the pool for the majority of the day. Water tests had revealed that the pools PH levels were fine but the chlorine levels left much to be desired. Which meant a lot of water watching but that was fine by us. The next couple of hours we sat in the shaded area of the local Mc Donalds followed by more water watching and chatting until sunset. Traditional Spanish cuisine for dinner: Tapas and cerveza.

Without a doubt the underlying theme of the holiday has been relaxation and laziness. Monday was no different, I was awoken to the sound of Usher blasting through the hallways. I suspect this was no coincidence but more of a polite way of waking the guests. Given our previous days efforts (or lack there of) it was decided we take a train into Madrid downtown and walk about the shopping district. Urgency was required as we raced home, packed and headed back to the airport only to be advised that our flight be delayed. Work is going to be a struggle this week ...

Scotland

During the course of my adventures I've come to realise that new cities fall into one of two categories. The first are those places which are distinctly unique. These are the places which scream individuality and ooze a distinct culture. The other, are places which lack the redeeming feature that sets is apart from the rest. Descriptions of such places usually begin with "This kind of reminds me of...". Glasgow, is one of those cities. Of the 15 hours of so spent in Glasgow I couldn't help but make comparisons to other cities, more specifically Australian cities. It would be best to describe Glasgow as Melbourne populated with people from Penrith.


After an interesting night out in the town we awoke to gray skies and rain. Our Glasgow sightseeing was severely limited to indoor activities, more specifically the Museum of Modern Art or shopping. With those two options we jumped on the first train and headed east to Edinburgh.

Edinburgh falls into the latter category of destinations. Immediately stepping off the train you're greeted by cobbled streets and medieval architecture. The city of Edinburgh was bustling with tourists and locals, many of shops, pubs and restaurants were overflowing with festival go-getters. We dumped our luggage at the hostel and headed to a traditional Scottish pub for some local cuisine.

It would be decided that our afternoon agenda be spent with a leisurely trek up Arthur's Seat (Despite protest from the girls). The ascent was cardiovascular workout, the descent provided comical relief in the form of wrong-footed slips and falls accompanied by plenty of groaning (Again, the girls). Feeling extremely exhausted I headed back to the hostel to sneak in some shut eye before our evening ghost tour.

The ghost tour of Edinburgh would be better classified as entertaining as opposed to scary. Our over-exuberant tour guide took us through the underground vaults or Edinburgh, through the narrow alleyways and finally to the cemetery. One particular eerie moment occurred with the group huddled together in the underground room. We were told by our host that "Behind that wall bodies were buried. Visitors to this particular room have reported the sensation of warm breath with the lingering smell of stale rum against the back of their necks". Then somebody farted. It was then, I knew I would not be scared.

Feeling drained and uninspired we opted for a quiet Saturday night. Turns out we were sharing our hostel room with a one Natasha Lea Jones of Pooka fame. The following day we explored Edinburgh Castle and treated ourselves to some free Fringe Festival entertainment.

Oscar Nominations

It's an art. Part actor, part enthusiast, part luck. The interview stage is just that, a stage; an audition for your career. It's about learning the lines, knowing the body language and delivering a compelling enough performance. Compelling enough to convince a company that you are the right person for the job. Practice makes perfect, the answers roll off the tongue, I know when to nod, when to smile and when to laugh.

"So walk me through your career to date"
"Why did you leave your last job?"
"Why did you move to London?"
"What is it about this role that attracts you?"
"Why do you want to work for this company?"
"What is a static variable?"
"What is a virtual function?"
"What are the principles of Object Oriented Design?"
"When are copy constructors used in C++?"
"What is a Singleton Design Pattern?"
"Name a time you had conflict with a colleague?"
"Describe to me a time when you took initiative"
"How do you prioritise?"
"You're currently on a Working Holiday Visa, what are your plans?"
"Do you have any questions for me?"
"Congratulations, they want to offer you a job."

Monthly Update:

• 3 Job offers
• 1 decision