It happened. I hoped it wouldn’t, but it happened. I done gone and got myself settled. I tried to fight it, I tried to do touristy things while I was here in England to avoid it, but it crept up on me… unsuspectingly (probably while I was passed out after the Shoreditch Street Party).
The simple pleasures of being settled are highly underrated.
- No ants: I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again – I don’t care if it’s a couch, bed, mattress on the floor… the fact of knowing that there will not be ants where I sleep is absolute bliss.
- Grocery Shopping: Being able to buy fruit, muesli and yoghurt for breakfast has put a smile on my face every single morning since I arrived in the UK.
- Laundry: Not having to count how many “pieces” of laundry I have, not having to “weigh” my laundry to find out the cost. Simply putting my laundry in a washing machine and pressing buttons until it’s done.
- Exercise: No, I’m not talking about walking from Kensington to Westminster, or going on a day trek. I’m talking about going for a 6km run in the morning, or sneaking into the gym and going to a Body Sculpt class.
- Watching TV: “Yes Alana, great work. Quit your job at 25 to travel the world, and how do you spend your time? Watching TV.” But to be honest, the simple pleasure of being able to kick up your feet after a long day out and about and watching some trash TV like The Only Way is Essex is a real treat.
- Home Cooked Meals: Cooking! Buying groceries, chopping vegetables, cooking stir-fry, washing dishes… It’s healthy, it’s cheap and it’s not rice and curry for the first time in three months!
- Friends: While of course I have met some new people since being in the UK, the majority of the people I’m surrounding myself with are people from back home. And it’s nice. It’s nice to talk about the footy, or mutual friends, or reminisce on fun times. Rather than the stock standard hostel-chat of “Where are you from?”, “How long you travelling for?”. “Where have you been?”… Don’t get me wrong, I’ve made some life-long friends this way, but it’s nice to talk about normal things for a while. And finally…
- Routine: Get up in the morning, go for a run, have fruit for breakfast, have a bath, do some admin, run some errands, sight-see a bit, cook dinner, watch TV, get a good night sleep. It seems simple, it seems boring… but it’s easy. It doesn’t require any thinking, or planning. And it’s absolute bliss.
So what have I been doing in the UK then?
My first week was spent flitting about London. I was based at my friend Aisling’s house out in Wanstead, a beautiful part of East London. I spent my first day in the city seeing things I thought I should see – Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace. And while it was good to tick these things off, it wasn’t until I caught up with my good friend Kate Prunty who could show me the good sights of London. We ticked off Borough Market where we sampled every free food we could whilst sipping expensive sangria. We wandered along South Bank, through Tate Modern, and over to Covent Garden where we sat on the balcony and watched quite possibly the worst street performer I’ve ever seen – his act concluded with him abusing the crowd for walking away. We decided after a few drinks that we should brave the weird and wacky Camden Market – littered with mohawks and crack addicts, doc martens and shisha. It was the first place in London that I couldn’t compare to anywhere back home, and I loved it. However, all good things come with a price tag, a price tag I couldn’t afford, and so we found ourselves at Wetherspoons. Little did I know that I would soon find myself on a Wetherspoons Tour of England for the next two weeks – trying every £5 meal on the menu and sampling all of the £2.49 pints. In fact, I’m in a Wetherspoons right now.
My first week in London had been busy. Embassies and errands, sight-seeing and socialising. I felt like I’d worked a full week, and what better way to celebrate than with a few Friday Night Drinks with friends. Tom Kearley, our World Cup roomie, had made his way up from the south for the weekend. So we prepared the cocktails, got a chicken, and settled in for a civilised evening of Three-Man drinking games. God it was nice to drink away the stresses of a hard work week… sort-of.
The following day, after a couple of hours sleep, we prepared ourselves for the Shoreditch Street Party. Now while I would love to fill you in on all the antics of the day, I’ll just summarise by saying that this was one of the most epic reunion days I’ve ever experienced. Aisling from Brazil, Tom from Brazil, James from Uni, Charlotte from work, Ange from.. Ange – all united in one drunken force to have an epic time in the infamous Shoreditch. Not to mention a special guest appearance, all the way from Australia, the one-and-only Belinda Williams – what better way to spend a 10 hour layover in London than catching up with a group of drunken gits at the pub!
Tired and broken, I dragged myself and my 20kg bag to my recovery detox centre – Kate’s house in Berkhamsted. Situated outside of London in a quiet little village surrounded by rolling fields, grazing sheep, bounding deer and quaint canals. This was going to be home for the week, and this is where I truly became settled. You know you’re becoming settled when you decide to sneak into two back-to-back gym classes before heading to Tesco to buy vegetables to cook for dinner that night. #SettledLife. “Berko” was beautiful. It had an incredible homely feel to it. It was quiet, but not boring. Small, but quaint. However, even in the arse-end of Berkhamsted, I couldn’t escape the alcoholic grips of my work colleagues. A well overdue catch up with Kieron, and a guest appearance by Charlotte ensured a quiet afternoon tipple at The Boat turned into a bit of a Wednesday afternoon bender. Not to mention, this was on the HOTTEST UK DAY ON RECORD. At 35 degrees, the entire country had gone into meltdown. Health-care workers had been put on standby, trains had buckled, radio listeners were urged to send in photos of themselves wearing shorts and singlets! Chaos, true and utter chaos.
With good weather promised, we made our way south for the weekend to Kate’s Auntie’s house in Brighton. Anna (Kate’s sister) was competing in a triathlon on the Saturday morning, so we came along for support. Dressed for the UK heatwave, we drove to Seaford at 7am in our shorts and singlets… we were greeted with thick mist, icy coastal winds, and near Arctic temperatures. Needless to say, I was not impressed. The UK really needs a good lesson in how to do a “heatwave”.
Anna absolutely smashed her triathlon, coming 3rd in her group… Meanwhile, the rest of us sat on a rug and ate a cheesecake before 10am. We spent the rest of the morning at Seven Sisters down the road where the picnic continued on a typical English pebble-stone beach. The weather had cleared up into a beautiful day, so for the afternoon we chaperoned Kate’s two younger cousins around Brighton. We took them to the Brighton Pier Arcade where we taught them that it’s not about having fun… it’s about cheating and stealing as many tokens as possible, followed by a visit to Wetherspoons for a cheap meal and then we popped them in a cab back to the house – Babysitting 101. The older kids continued on to a variety of Brighton pubs, mostly Wetherspoons, until the days events caught up to us and we were starting to fall asleep at the table at 11pm. Our final day in Brighton involved a big, long sleep-in and a mooch around The Lanes. Filled with vintage clothing shops, quirky antique stores, and fudge shops, the Brighton Lanes were the perfect end to a fantastic weekend.
Now, as I sit in a London Wetherspoons, writing this blog over a glass of red and a cheap pasta while I await my overnight bus to Edinburgh, I try to mentally prepare myself for the next step. Back into travelling. Back into hostels, sight-seeing and planning. Back into spending money. Back into the unknown. This is the necessary baby-step back into travelling that I need before the grand adventure, the 15,000km journey across the world… The Mongol Rally.
allama withabackpack 