diary of a working girl -- cramped tubes and running in heels
It's been one week in London and the novelty of looking after my aunt's two cats has most definitely worn off. Every night Candy, the more sprightly of the two, has whined and moaned until she is let out, forcing me to chase her back in before I retire to bed so that none of those viscous city foxes make their way into the kitchen. And then there's Max, the older cat (about 160 in human years!), who has this knack for eerily following me around the kitchen and staring at me with his huge, reflective eyes. Not being used to animals of any sort, I find this extremely unnerving - no doubt a reaction that any animal lovers among you readers will be completely baffled by.
However, life with these malting cats only accounts for a small proportion of my time in London. The majority has been filled with errands and research tasks, negotiating databases, sorting DVDs and a frantic trip to Hamleys to name a few, as I beaver on at Consolidated PR.
The Hamleys trip was today; the items were urgently needed and there were many of them! The sluggish movements of countless tourists trudging up Regent Street along with over-excited wild children bounding around Hamleys made for a very short temper on my part as the task of meandering through the crowd became increasingly difficult. Leaping onto the tube with two heavy bags (which are also dragging along the floor because my arms are too short to hold them higher - damn you genetics for making me vertically challenged) I accidentally knock the back of a woman's leg who delivers me the most appalled look as though I have stabbed her with a knife as opposed to the sharp corner of a box. Well, excuse me for not having the upper body strength to perfectly control two heavy bags whilst jumping into a very full tube train.
Now, rant over, I must thank my sister. Last Thursday evening my dad took us out for a congratulatory dinner at The Luxe in Spittafields: having graduated from Cardiff University this summer my sister has found a job working with a very prestigious architect (the name of whom constantly escapes me) in (I think) Hoxton area. After a delicious dinner (thank you pap!) my sister and I head to Brick Lane to meet up with a few of her Cardiff friends also now working in London (so adult and yet only two years away for me - argh!). This is the day I have chosen to wear my gorgeous suede heeled boots which normally serve me well, even in the hills of Exeter, even walking with 6 foot friends where I must trot slightly to keep pace (humiliating, I assure you), but somehow not suitable to march down Bethnal Green Road and then Brick Lane to reach The Big Chill Bar.
Now usually it's a good thing to have me, not my sister, as the navigator. Our mum would especially agree with me on this count. However, in this case, I took myself and my trusting sister the longest possible way. The journey (had we gone the sensible, short route) should have taken around 10 minutes. Instead it took nearer an hour. Not one of my proudest or most intellectual moments to say the least.
