metaphorical car crash

It's been four months and a lot has happened. 

I spent much of it in a daze, doing things like putting the nespresso capsule straight into the mug and pouring boiling water over the top of it.

My life also turned into a metaphorical car crash. 

Speaking of which, I walked past this vehicle in Peckham recently. Probs not the best advertising for your Premier Driving School.  

Do you remember that tiny hand to hold? There have been further episodes to corroborate my feeling that these walls have eyes. Volume on:

(my inclination was that with two tiny pieces of tape on that cabinet, whatever was in there would have remained in there.)

In January I went on a ski trip with friends to Austria which turned out to be a complete disaster save for these Biggie Smalls snowboarding socks. 

But praise the celestial bodies for this absolute gem of a human who intercepted me in Tulum in February:

Between the green juice, tacos, bike rides, beach walks, mayan ruins, cenotes, tequila boom booms, sandy naps, questionable cacao and coconut "happy balls" and a mayan energy healer who exorcised me physically and emotionally, I returned to London with a levity and joy I hadn't known since my teenage years. 

I came back to London for just enough time to work a hectic stretch of night shifts, only to fly back across the atlantic home to california to celebrate my mother's 70th birthday in march. She is not only an engineer, but also the most resourceful person I know. When I lamented not having a reclining lawn chair in the backyard, she brought a chair out from the garage and built me this not so beautiful but highly functional sunbathing contraption:  

But the joy ride was over soon enough as upon my return to London I had to pack up my belongings for the seventh time in 2.5 years and move out. Though you'll have to read the tell-all for the details on that, my lovely fiancé NUMERO DOS and I decided to go our separate ways, which, heartache aside was a massive pain in the ass. We remain friends however in the course of the move had a few mutual fits of rage that resulted in myself manically packing up all my books into heavily sealed boxes, such that I now have nothing to do with my spare time other than refresh instagram every 37 seconds or make another piece of toast with jam. The first set of assets divided was the alcohol, and you bet your ass I took all the tequila. Other than a consortium of failed relationships, the only things i've collected over the years seems to be tequila and some art, which are now all living in a storage unit until I find a more permanent place to call home once I finish my residency early August.

In the meanwhile, I am living here: 

So cry for me, pray for me. Do whatever you have to do. I am 34 and living in a hospital dormitory  that smells like a charity shop and is too small to contain even my tiniest g-string. 

I share a bathroom with one other person who doesn't exist, so on a positive note one could say I have my own en suite. On the other hand, I didn't have anyone to ask for help when I couldn't figure out how to switch the tap from bath to shower so had to spend the earliest days shaped like a tripod, splashing my butt aimed at the faucet with water as if I were a bird in a bath, and sort my hair out with entire cans of dry shampoo. The dormitory is so small that the whole thing turns into a steam room when you bathe and as such I had to crack the window (LITERALLY CRACK the window, which i guess they limit the opening of out of fear we'd jump from height given the chance). Anyway, within seconds this thing crawled in:

I mean, there is no other way to say it than 

FUCK THAT SHIT>

I don't mean to be a scrooge, but there is a common area which- considering it's now May  - is perhaps overly festive when it comes to symbols of Christmas:

There are not one but TWO Christmas trees. See if you can spot them! 

The kitchen was marketed as "fully stocked" which is why I left my gold leaf pink champagne saucers in storage. Unfortunately the only option for drinking wine is out of a mug, bowl, or plastic picnic champagne glass. So that's what I do these days.

I have to admit I found a glimmer of joy when I went for a run around the new neighborhood and found these meadows and this mini pony just around the corner. Meadows and mini ponies are the personification of my ideals on love which is why i'm accepting this as a positive omen. 

While all my friends are buying houses, I'm buying bleach for the community toilet. But I have found a pub that sells pints of Guinness for only 2.50, so while the car might appear crashed on the outside, the engine's still running a full tank of diesel and I still have no plans to call the Premier Driving School.