NW8, London. 

Since returning from our road trip we’ve tried to make the most of being unemployed while still, you know, trying to get jobs.

We’ve been to galleries and parks and the Tower of London. We’ve done things I’ve never done before and I’ve been able to revisit some of the places I’ve been but see how they’ve changed and see them through the eyes of my favourite person.


In our flat we have three bedrooms, a kitchen, and the bathroom. While it was super strange for the first few days, I was surprised at how quickly I adjusted to not having a living room. I think perhaps all the hotels actually helped.

We’ve even bought a few little plants, which I absolutely adore.

We live with a lovely couple who’ve just moved here from Portugal, with their gigantic cat Gaspar who is kind of terrified of me? Or just pure hatred. He hisses at me when all I want to do is love him.

I’m trying to not hold it against him.

 Our other flatmate is a lovely English girl who stays with her boyfriend most of the time so we barely ever see her. I think legitimately the last time I saw her was 8 days ago, though I know she slept here at least one of those nights. 

Maybe her boyfriend has a living room at his place.

And despite being pretty much constantly together since we left New Zealand? My girlfriend and I have not killed each other yet and I’m still ridiculously heart-eyes-emoji about her.

We spent this afternoon picnicking in Regent’s Park and it was a wild success. Despite not bringing enough to drink, having two excellent parks within 20 minutes walk of our front door is an excellent excellent situation. Plus, there’s the zoo?

It’s been hard sometimes. I loved my job and we loved our flat and cat and pals and sometimes I miss them, a lot. Somethings are ridiculously expensive and some things are cheap. Sometimes London is grey and raining and it’s freezing cold despite it being, allegedly, summer. And then the sun comes out and you can picnic and get sunburnt.

Relocating across the world and dealing with brand new and sometimes inexplicably difficult bureaucracy can drive you up the wall, and we’re all speaking the same language here! I have no idea how my pal Laura has managed moving to Brazil but lord I have mad respect.

Though sometimes, it seems like maybe we’re not actually speaking the same language at all.

Now all I need is a job.


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