Pack up..

"Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag.."

This week everything became real. I reached the point of no return! Contracts got signed, pictures came off the wall and life (as I know it) got packed into little boxes and sealed with tape.

This little pad which has been my haven for the last 2-ish years will be no longer. I'm amazed i've crammed so much stuff into it during that time. One of my friends is nicknamed the Goldfish, due to her ability to expand to fit the available space, and I think I probably deserve the same title.

Observe:

The day of reckoning came on Saturday when little Florence (the Fiat) had to channel her inner van and cart as much stuff as she could carry across the Berkshire boundary and into Sunny Surrey.

Florence pretending to be a big car:

The journey there was fine, and a great opportunity for me to listen to an album my friend passed along to me (Billie Jo and Norah Jones - For everly). I dropped everything off, and for one of the last times I was able to retreat back to Reading under the watchful eye of a vivid pink sunset.

Now that the moving process is underway, interestingly I feel a lot calmer. It is certainly true for me, that the anticipation of something tends to be far worse than pulling up the big girl pants and just getting on with it.

So yeah! The move is on, only a week snowboarding in France separates me from the big smoke...

London (technically Surrey) - i'll see you on the other side..

Second post, second thoughts

I've promised myself to give up negativity for Lent (despite being an atheist, but still..) - but with an impending BIG CHANGE coming this is proving pretty difficult.

At times I get quite excited about all the things I can do in London which aren't possible in Reading - the shopping, the food, the culture etc. But on days like today, the overwhelming levels of change just become paralysing and I find it hard to comprehend what is soon to happen.

A lot of this, i know, stems from being younger. Before you feel sorry for me, don't. I have the same, sad divorced story a lot of others have. In fact, my story is a lot better than others. Both my parents are happily re-married and I now have 2 sets of very stable parents. I never really encountered poverty, and I know it could have been so much worse. But the fact remains that I have grown into a fairly intelligent women who still freaks out at the first sound of a raised voice, and finds it very hard/nigh on impossible to cope with change, far less be the instigator of it.

One of the plus points of growing up is that you get to narrate your story. Your parents don't have to do it for you anymore. So I know that I get to change how this story gets told. I don't mind being the girl that stays in Reading because it's what has been best - but I know that i'm the girl that stays in Reading because i'm scared to do anything else. And I don't want to get to 60 and look back with regret at chances I could have taken.

So the bold steps have been taken, but these little hang-ups from my childhood still haunt me. This is the final apron string - the exorcism of the demons. If I can prove to myself I can make it there, i will know forever that i can make it anywhere (a la Alicia Keys and Jay-Z - those philosophers), and this mentality will help me no end.

It's very frustrating as I fluctuate from adult excitement about the potential - to a feeling, from somewhere deep, that the whole thing is bad, bad, bad.

Another factor which I have been aware of is how my brain will deal with the changes. For the most part, i'm a optimist that believes in karma, second chances, and one love. I guess i'm a bit of a hippy. :) But I do have my moments. We all do, and that's part of making us human. The last really dark time I had was over 2 years ago, following a break-up. Prior to that I had had a couple of 'episodes.' So I figure it's just part of my ebb and flow. But I do know it gets worse at times of big change or stress. I know it's fairly normal - but it is quite scary to feel like you are a slave to your own mind.

I don't tend to be very rational. I believe things will never get better, and that i've brought them onto myself. Eventually I weather it and it passes. But this could take anything from a week to over six months. No promises. I'm hoping that by being aware of it, and blogging, and being gentle on myself, I will have prepared myself well enough.

"You can't stop the waves from coming, but you can choose which one to surf." - Anon.

I'd best start waxing down the board! :)

And this is how it starts...

"And this is how it starts..."
 -  'Sex', The 1975

My life tends to be narrated by an internal music player which always knows the right songs for each moment! I was wondering how to get this going and those very lyrics started playing in my head.

I should introduce myself. My name is Mel. I wanted to start this blog as i've recently made quite a big decision to move to London.

Yes, the City! The big smoke, the Capital, LDN...the big one. I'm sure even for an experienced mover London presents quite a challenge - however i've never moved. That's a tiny lie, I have moved a couple of times. I moved from my childhood home into a new home with my mum, and then into another home also with my mum, and then into a friends flat temporarily, and then into my current residence ON MY OWN (..okay, with other people - but not parents). That makes it sound like I should be some sort of moving pro - but what i've failed to mention is that none of these houses were outside a 2-mile radius. Aaah, not so ballsy now, are we?

That's right - in 26 and 11 months I have never lived outside of a 2-mile circle. I'd like to be able to say that wasn't deliberate, but it totally was. I should be part of some sort of Settled Anonymous group: 'Hi, my name's Mel, and I can't move.'

Anyway - the long and short of it is that until I was 20 I didn't really have much opportunity to move as I was trying to sort my life out. Once i'd done that, and university was on the cards, I had options to move (London or Guildford - I know right, so far away)......buuuut I didn't do it. I chose to tell people it was a financial decision - I was saving more money by being at home, yadda yadda. Everyone thought I was being terribly sensible. But the truth of the matter is that I was terrified of leaving. I've learnt over the years that I really quite like being settled, knowing exactly what is going to happen and when, and not having any surprises. That's not to say I don't like new adventures and activities, just not in my home life.

So...that takes us to 24 years old. I did my whole degree from home (involving a 2-hour commute - EACH WAY). Very conveniently (as I had no plans to move) - I found a job only a 30min drive away from home. Bonus! No moving going on here, nope. So I got stuck in at work and carried on commuting. I did eventually (with a fair bit of pushing) move out of home, but only 2 miles down the road. Where I have lived comfortably in the same room, same house, for almost 2 years now.

And that brings us here. I love my job, and I love my colleagues (and as we have deduced thus far, i'm not too prone to itchy feet). BUT i'm watching friends move, get promotions, settle down etc. and i'm beginning to see that none of this is happening to me. Of course, this isn't because i'm terribly unlucky - but because if I'm not going to change anything, nothing will change. With this in mind I applied for a job in London - not fully expecting to get even an interview - but lo and behold, i'm hired!

How this fits into my 'plan' i'm not quite sure. I have always harboured dreams of living a bohemian lifestyle in Cornwall (St.Ives if you must know) - working enough to live and surfing as often as I can, and generally lounging about eating pasties with perfectly sun-bleached hair (in this fantasy I've also somehow gained a good-looking husband, two blonde kids and a perfectly tanned and toned figure. Also a dog. Sometimes more dogs than kids, depends on the mood.)

I had tempered this with moving to Bristol - close enough to surf but still likely to have jobs more ambitious than selling ice-cream. London is not close to surf. But it does have jobs, so swings and roundabouts.

Anyway, i'm getting distracted. LONDON! So here it goes. The big adventure. The big move. I'm still convinced as soon as I try to leave Reading hailstorms and wind will appear in a Truman-esque episode as I get closer and closer to the Berkshire border - but i'm sure the final drive will actually be quite uneventful.

This is the final cutting of the apron-string. Like pulling a manky old plaster from a hairy arm - I know it has to happen, and I know i'll be better for doing it, but I also know the process is going to sting and there will be that moment where you try to convince yourself you can either keep the plaster on forever, or peel it off r-e-a-l-l-y slowly. But you can't.

I'm very lucky. My new job is central; leaving me with all options open for locations to live. I also have friends who can put me up in the beginning - taking any pressure off. I have friends who live nearby and I will probably know people already there. So in terms of a softy, softly approach - this is about as good as it gets.

I just need to really do this justice by learning as much as i can from the job, and throwing myself into a new location. So this blog is here to make sure I do things in London so I have something to write about, and is also something I can use to keep me sane in the inevitable 'what have I done?!' moments that I know will arise, and are probably very normal.

Signing off,

Tiny Fish (location soon to be: Big Pond!)

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