Well shit.
I suppose it's about time for an update. How many weeks has it been? three? Christ. Feels like a lifetime. London is a human pressure cooker. I arrived and dived into all of my old shit; drinking (not such a bad thing) and skirt chasing (a very bad thing). All this was going alright, albiet I've lost some of my charms, dishonesty makes you ugly after all. For the records I was chasing, not catching (no real desire, the thrill was almost always in the chase anyways). Then she came down for a visit and it was like a baseball bat to the side of the head. Priorities revealed. It's strange how even after all this time, effort and work I can still spend so much time lying to myself. She's got me, always has. I was just associating her with the miasma of my midlands experience (it can't be all bakewell tarts and real ale after all!). I am so proud of her for who I see her becoming, and since she's arrived (early, at my request) I am sitting and waiting to watch the rest of the transformation.
In other news, I love London. It is everything, has everything. It's completely mad, and crowded and smelly, but is has so much to love, great music with clubs and evenings dedicated to the odder bits of pop music history. I've been going to 60s American Garage rock nights, punk nights, drinking with old lads born under the sound of the Bow Bells talking about the 70's getting drunk with Johhny Rotten, eating salt beef bagels with mustard from the 24 hour Bagel shop at the end of Brick Lane. Galleries, film festivals, live music and good fucking dirty vodka martinis with extra olives.
Work is amazing. Just my kind of place and just my kind of crew. It's mellow, relatively hassle free, beautiful, simple (yet posher than my usual) food. It's spring so that means salad greens, fresh peas, broad (fava) beans, wild garlic, morrell mushrooms, white truffles, wild chicory, soon to be rasberries and cherries. The guys are all realy talented, and know their jobs, no bollockings, very little stress, just good hardworking chefs. Oh and 50ish hour weeks, which is paradise after the 75 hour weeks I was working! The short of is that I'm where I belong, with the person with whom I belong. For once I'm looking at the future, excited rather than longingly back at the past. It's not perfect, but it's a damn good start!
I suppose it's about time for an update. How many weeks has it been? three? Christ. Feels like a lifetime. London is a human pressure cooker. I arrived and dived into all of my old shit; drinking (not such a bad thing) and skirt chasing (a very bad thing). All this was going alright, albiet I've lost some of my charms, dishonesty makes you ugly after all. For the records I was chasing, not catching (no real desire, the thrill was almost always in the chase anyways). Then she came down for a visit and it was like a baseball bat to the side of the head. Priorities revealed. It's strange how even after all this time, effort and work I can still spend so much time lying to myself. She's got me, always has. I was just associating her with the miasma of my midlands experience (it can't be all bakewell tarts and real ale after all!). I am so proud of her for who I see her becoming, and since she's arrived (early, at my request) I am sitting and waiting to watch the rest of the transformation.
In other news, I love London. It is everything, has everything. It's completely mad, and crowded and smelly, but is has so much to love, great music with clubs and evenings dedicated to the odder bits of pop music history. I've been going to 60s American Garage rock nights, punk nights, drinking with old lads born under the sound of the Bow Bells talking about the 70's getting drunk with Johhny Rotten, eating salt beef bagels with mustard from the 24 hour Bagel shop at the end of Brick Lane. Galleries, film festivals, live music and good fucking dirty vodka martinis with extra olives.
Work is amazing. Just my kind of place and just my kind of crew. It's mellow, relatively hassle free, beautiful, simple (yet posher than my usual) food. It's spring so that means salad greens, fresh peas, broad (fava) beans, wild garlic, morrell mushrooms, white truffles, wild chicory, soon to be rasberries and cherries. The guys are all realy talented, and know their jobs, no bollockings, very little stress, just good hardworking chefs. Oh and 50ish hour weeks, which is paradise after the 75 hour weeks I was working! The short of is that I'm where I belong, with the person with whom I belong. For once I'm looking at the future, excited rather than longingly back at the past. It's not perfect, but it's a damn good start!
VIEW 12 of 12 COMMENTS
How do I remind you of you? Your life seems very together where as mine is in a suitcase and boxes.
It's nice to hear that you're all happy and doing well!
Are you a chef? I have a lot of love for all restaurant workers (I'm a former waitress). ♥