Clever girl...

I have no explanation for the title of this latest shortish blog post. None whatsoever apart from the tenuous link that I feel like a very clever girl. I did it. I got me a job in London and moved here.

I've got my chai latte from the great caffeinated power that won't pay its taxes. You know them, I used to write from them all the time in Alonso Martinez in Madrid. Remember? The friendliest Starbucks in the world? Drat...

There's always a very small part of me that is tugging my sleeve and saying "No! No! Don't mention people or places, you remember all that libel law and that one documentary on Channel Four!" but sod it, I can patronise in both senses at the same time!

Why am I writing from Starbucks I hear you ask? Certainly not because TalkTalk (named and shamed) has a list of network problems longer than the walk home last night when I realised I had never walked to my now home on my own after dark and was convinced thieves and murderers roamed the night freely and without hindrance. I went past an all night Sainsbury's and three quite nice pubs with flowers and scrubbed wood tables outside. It was hardly the projects Aileen....

Sorry I digress. Once again I am plagued by internet woes BUT I have a massive TV. Trade off.

So here I am living in London. Met my elusive co-lodger yesterday. And we have our villain of the piece. Well, she's no Captain Hook, but we shall endure!

I had just unpacked all my things into a lovely room at the top of the house. Light, airy and has been cleaned and neatened by the landlady who even left out bedclothes and towels. Bless Angela.

It is however a good and wonderful thing that landlady is away for the month of August as that leaves far more scope for nocturnal comings and goings. Not that I mean really loud sex, although I wouldn't object. Indeed would be hurt and offended if the idea of me in the next room put anyone off loud and passionate relations. I have been known to stick on some Barry White to facilitate the process...

A couple on Aer Lingus yesterday had NO difficulty with me being in the adjacent seat.

Yeah.

You read that right.

So we're on the plane and I'm reading my Kindle and the couple beside me (Irish boy, Scandinavian girl) are being all lovey dovey. I ALWAYS have to sit next to couples and they're always too cute. Until now.

It is out of the corner of my eye that I first become aware of things getting out of hand (pun). At first I was sure girlfriend was lending a hand (pun) to pull boyfriend's coat into a more comfortable position (pun) This was not the case. The case was that with very little cover and NO compunctions at all this couple was merrily attempting to join the Mile High club. BUT EVERYONE COULD SEE!! I ended up hunching over my Kindle to try and safeguard said couple from the three members of the blue rinse brigade in the next aisle who would have kicked off if this indiscretion was noticed.

And all the while I was thinking, "Not on Aer Lingus. Oh God, not here. Ryanair yes but you'd be charged pay as you come and go. Easyjet possibly. But all these planes are named after Catholic saints for God's sake. We're flying on St Ronan."

St Ronan. Bishop. Feast day, November 19th. Venerated at Coventry because his ARM is enshrined there. You can't make up this shit...

Lessee, I have very little else to tell y'all. Travel was very tiring but when is it not? Am super pleased with where I'm situated. Am super excited about starting work. Am super excited about living in London! Am super excited to stop talking like a twelve year old girl from Beverly Hills!

Next week then! I swear to have more wonderful stories from a week exploring London. Exciting adventures and such. But now? Now I'm off to Regent Street to have lunch. We getting cosmopolitan up in h'yah!

And still the crumpled bit of paper lies forlornly at the bottom of my bag.

Don't worry.

I haven't forgotten The List.

xo