My First Christmas

The first Christmas I can remember is the Christmas of 1982 when I was three years old. This was the first Christmas my parents had bought me gifts, as I was old enough to really start getting the idea of Christmas celebrations.

We spent Christmas Eve at my paternal grandparents' house. I am told that I received a bar of chocolate from them, my first Christmas present ever. I was apparently so happy with my gift, my parents felt a bit silly, as they'd been excited about my first Christmas and had bought me loads of presents that were waiting for me at home (where we'd celebrate Christmas as well).

This I don't remember (although I do remember one of the gifts they did get me, a stuffed toy lioness which I had for well over ten years, so their presents did last longer than the chocolate), but what I do remember is the Christmas tree.

It was big. The silvery star atop reached all the way to the high ceiling, and the branches were massive. I could crawl under the tree, and hide from everything as only a three-year-old can, amazed and keen to take a closer look at this enormous fir.

There were all these colourful decorations, lines of paper flags of all different countries, gingerbread decorations and tinsel. And candles. Not tiny electric fairylights, but real, delicate candles, perching on the branches by brass clasps. This had a lasting effect on me, to the extent I still remember it to this day. The tiny flames illuminating the whole tree, making the decorations come alive in the flickering light.

In this day and age of fire hazard awareness, I eye our electric fairylights with suspicion, but still conjure up images of that very first Christmas, with those incredible little candles.

Merry Christmas Everyone

Megapost: 2 Weekends in 1

Weekend #1: Dutchcookie in Nottingham
We had a wonderful weekend with Dutchcookie visiting. The sightseeing tour naturally included quite a bit of shopping, cafés, restaurants and pubs. We took her to the oldest pub in England, The Old Trip to Jerusalem (it is one of the "oldest pub in England" pubs, there are many, but of course we'll stand by its claim to the title), and made sure to take her for Sunday Roast before her flight departed.

MsCookie didn't seem to be too scared of being in the ever-so-dangerous Nottingham; I got the impression that she quite enjoyed herself, and I believe she did make mention of moving to the M&S and Hotel Chocolat here... But that could've been the cider talking.

We did spend a good amount of time imbibing liquids of all sorts. But we did supplement with a good amount of solid foods as well, so I think we balanced things out quite well.In any case, we had so much fun catching up and showing MsCookie around, and even the weather complied: it was slightly windy but sunny for the entire time she was here. Quite literally so, as a few raindrops fell when we walked her to her airport shuttle.

In the aftermath of her visit, we've been consuming way more chocolate than is necessarily wise. Oh, the woe.

Weekend #2: Bath, Gloucester & the Peak District
Saturday: Bath, Gloucester and the Coventry detour
On Friday we took the cats to the vet for their vaccinations (the "reason" for renting the car in the first place), and then spent some capitalist quality time at stores such as the mega-gigantic-Tesco and Ikea. We are now stocked, and have been reminded of why selecting your groceries online to have them delivered to your doorstep is indeed not such a bad idea after all.

On Saturday we headed south towards Bath. It was definitely well worth the drive, what a gorgeous little town! Saturday was a perfect day for a drive: very cold and windy, but also sunny. We walked around Bath (or tried to, amidst the throngs of Christmas market goers. Yes, we picked the Bath Abbey Christmas Market weekend for our visit (impressively without even minimal googling). We managed to find a lovely pub which served wonderful food--and walked straight to a table for two. Lucky day.

We also found a cheesemonger (which we visited but were pretty much forced to leave as the pungent scents of mature cheese began to infiltrate our nasal passages). As much as I love cheese, that was just way too much--a small shop, chock full of unrefrigerated cheese. The idea was to go visit the Roman Baths, as we were in Bath after all, but our plan was thwarted by a humble £10 entry fee. Per person. For that amount of money I would've required full use of the facilities. Instead, we decided to get back into bumper-to-bumper traffic and head for Gloucester.

We arrived in Gloucester right before six. We were able to find a parking lot in the centre, and proceeded to walk around. It was quite spooky, as all the shops had already closed, and there were a handful of people on the streets (one of which, notably, was having a conversation with her inner voices (or perhaps an invisible friend, we didn't stop to ask), another asked us for a cigarette, and then there was the chick who almost ran us over, but never mind). We decided to head to the beautifully lit Cathedral, and did indeed find it open.

There were only two people there, a staff member of some sort, and a man tuning a harpsichord. I have to say that I've been to many cathedrals, minsters and churches of various sizes, ages and degrees of impressiveness, but the dimly-lit empty cathedral with the monotonous and the melancholy chords of the harpsichord tuner definitely worked together to provide eeriness difficult to put into words. We made it into an even more dimly-lit room (where we relied on MrPicky's mobile phone light to read an engraving), and our expediated pulses shot through the roof when the aforementioned staffmember walked up to us clinking his keys (no, I'm not making this up), and told us to leave, as they were closing. Gloucester Cathedral will go down as the best place of worship I've visited when it comes to setting the mood for some good, old-fashioned god-fearing.

And speaking of god-fearing, as soon as we got out of Gloucester, we decided to divert slightly and visit good ole Coventry, for old times' sake. Ok, fine. We decided to get some of the best Balti in the world.

We had a few nostalgic moments along the lines of "oh god, I can't believe we remembered to turn here; oh, remember this crazy junction, oh wow, that kiosk is still there" until we got to my old street and noticed that not only had the block adjacent to mine been demolished entirely, most of the buildings on the neighbouring block (on the other side) were boarded up. And yes, you guessed it, the Best Balti on the Planet was nowhere to be found. We weren't too surprised, as they did do take out to such high standards that we expected they'd open a restaurant soon. We got to a phone book, but either they changed the name for their restaurant, or they decided to follow a course set by many and leave Coventry behind. Personally I'm rooting for the last option. We did, however, locate our other post-drinking haven for food, Istanbul Kebab, and yes, their kebabs still rank high on the excellence meter. So we didn't leave empty-handed (stomached?) after all.

And it was nice to be reminded that yes, time may have softened some of the memories (as we've been going down the slippery slope of "oh, we were so much younger, it couldn't have been quite as bad". Yes. Yes it was), and definitely needed to be set straight. The M1 sign for NORTH, Nottingham has never been met with greater delight. Even Warwickshire's gift to juvenile humour (oh my god, is that a bear having sexual relations with a log? Yes, it does appear so) paled in comparison.

Sunday: Peak District
On Sunday we pat ourselves on the back for wisely deciding to head further on Saturday and stay closer to home on Sunday. We headed up towards the Peak District, driving through Mansfield, Chesterfield and other not-so-picturesque towns and villages. The Peak District is absolutely humbling. We only saw a minute part of the area, but that was enough to make a lasting impression.We drove through villages each quainter than the next, and saw landscapes more befitting mythical tales than the last.

The day was grim and dreary, blistering winds combined with a drizzle relentless in its consistency, but in my opinion it fit the area quite well.We drove through a tiny village, sat right at the bottom of a rising cliff, tens of meters of stone rising up on one side, and a flowing stream on the other. The landscape immediately brought to mind Lords of the Ring. Sorry New Zealand, THIS is where it should've been filmed.

As daylight rapidly diminished we drove on. We came upon the village of Hathersage, where we stumbled onto a Christmas tree sale. What better way to acquire a Christmas tree than in the Peak District, short of wading in waist-deep snow and felling the damn shrub yourself?I think we may have also stumbled onto a new Christmas Tradition.We headed back, pleased with everything we had managed to see, and satisfied we'd definitely got our money's worth out of the rental.

So ended our weekend, just in time to return the car and begin the epic quest to "Find a Christmas tree stand in a country where real Christmas trees are not the norm without the use of a car" .

Pickychick:1; Monday-to-come: 0

Indeed. But you know what, this time the joke is on you, Monday dearest. Why, you may ask? Because I'm spending the weekend IN, and the fact it's raining makes me enjoy my lazy, pyjama-clad weekend involving the couch, the bed and the fridge even more.
So HA.
You fail.
I'll be taking my cues from MrCat:

and MsCat:

Random Musings

It's mid-November; temperatures are still closer to 10C than 5C. Christmas is little over a month away; December starts next Friday--and what better way to celebrate that than with a visit from the wonderful DutchCookie?! Here's counting days until then.

Remember, remember, the 5th of November...

So we went to Bonfire night yesterday. I have to say, that was a nice bonfire!Although I must say it was quite different from the Midsummer bonfires in Finland: there the point is to keep the bonfire burning all night, whereas here the point seems to be to burn it down, witness the event and then move on. Not surprising, considering the roots of the Finnish bonfires are in warding off witches and the English counterpart originally burnt a bastard down...

There was a fireworks "mini display" before the bonfire was lit, and the show left much to be desired. I wanted to see the big fireworks, and it was well worth it, I have to say.
I have to say, even the NYE fireworks on the Strip in Vegas came second to the climax of this one. Mr Camera decided not to want to play 'capture the fireworks', so this pic is by no means indicative of the greatness of the event. I wonder if last night marked the end of the fireworks that have been going off here for weeks? I do think I'll actually miss the random but steady bangs that have enriched our nightly soundscape.

Dragging Ass to Gym--New Challenges

So I finally decided to go to the gym yesterday.
Monumentous occasion, but I had to make the break from life-on-couch at some point.
There's a gym within a 5-min walk from where we live, so of course I went there. Their membership fees are not extortionate, but still quite a bit (monthly plan £35 vs £19 if you pay for the year in one go) and since there are no cancellations or putting the card on hold, I'm hesitant. I then discovered that I could have a look around for free, but wouldn't get a trial visit for free... I guess I've been spoiled, because I have yet to go to a gym that doesn't do a free (or heftily reduced) trial visit. Well, it turns out they do do a health assessment/nutrition & workout plan for free, and I scheduled to get that today. I still don't know whether I'll sign up with them or someplace else.

It's amazing how uninformative gyms'/healthclubs' websites are. Sure, you'll feel like Ms Fitness after you join and the sun will shine and the birds will sing, but membership costs are guarded like national secrets. There are two gyms that require me to make a visit appointment just to go have a look around... I think I'll grill them on their cost policy first.

So I went to the Living Well gym at the Hilton Hotel. Don't laugh, they actually did a free trial!
It's just a shame that apart from a good selection of treadmills, their "gym" consists of about 5 machines... they do have a pool, steamroom and "sauna" (if you can't throw water it's not a sauna), but for £46 a month (or £35 off-peak) I think I'll pass, thank you very much. For a hotel gym it's pretty good, but for regular excercise, not so much.

In hindsight it wasn't necessarily too good of an idea to go work out the day before the "fitness test", considering I hadn't been to a gym in months, by now. Yikes. I am dreading this test thing today. I already know I'm out of shape and overweight, thank you. I'm just hoping it won't feel like P.E... Fortunately I'm not too sore from yesterday (although I had to severely contain myself when the guy who was showing me around said it was a dry sauna, and when I looked disappointed, said "oh, I don't get the difference" and when I explained, told me to use the steam room... Argh. But I'm sure that equalled a good 5 minutes of working out).

Well, we'll see what happens. Hopefully I'll find a few more places with free trials, and I'll take it from there.

I don't even dare wish for a proper sauna.

Moving, Phase 2

Our stuff arrived from Finland last night. All 9m3 of it. So the flat looks like something exploded again, with boxes and random bags everywhere. It's very nice to have everything here, though, it feels like we're properly 'in' now. And it's nice to get my clothes. Living out of a suitcase for a month is a bit complicated, especially since I had to pack for two different types of weather--summer and autumn, so that effectively halved my 'available' clothing. And my BedHead stuff is finally here, oh bless.

Of course there is still that one trip to Ikea... We're missing a dining table and two chairs (they didn't have them in stock last time), a tv-stand and a lot of storage boxes. The one complaint I do have is that there isn't as much storage space as I would like, so we're really going to have to be inventive about where to put stuff.

I guess there won't be any doubt as to what we'll be doing this weekend, though.

Serendipitous Coincidences

#1 So I was looking for a place near where we live for Ashtanga yoga. Step one of procrastinating: make it seem as though you're just getting information to get going, and that that is the reason you haven't done whatever it is you're not doing. Five minutes into browsing the website I get spam about Ayurvedic treatment and yoga in Kerala, India. I did not give my email address anywhere, nor have I ever gotten spam like this before. Quite funny, really.

#2 Last night we spent our last £10 note and were out of cash. Walking home, I spotted a £10 note on the sidewalk.

#3 On Friday I went to the Pitcher and Piano for a post-workweek drink and to read the newspapers before MrPicky got home. He called me, and I told him where I was. He then told me that two people we were supposed to be meeting up with later in the evening were there as well. I wasn't about to give up my comfy couch, and as I couldn't see anybody fitting their description, I decided to stay put until MrPicky got there. Ten minutes later I see a couple approach my couches (there are two), and they just sit down. They also fit the description. What cinched the deal was they then spoke in German. I figured the chances they wouldn't be the right people were so minimal I could take the risk. I introduced myself and we had a good laugh over the whole thing--they'd wandered over because there were no other sets of couches available, and they figured they'd just smoke me out eventually, LOL!

Life Goes On

I got a beautiful bouquet of flowers from my coworkers today.
Everyone has been very supportive, MrPicky especially. I don't know what I would do if it wasn't for him. I'm glad he and dad got to know one another.

Despite everything I feel very lucky.

Sunday Church

The weekend was absolutely gorgeous here. Warm, sunny, what else can you ask for?
Now, Sundays are all about relaxing. I think we managed quite well by first experimenting with tapas at La Tasca. They have tables outside, and in the bright sunshine (and what seemed to be +25C degrees) it really felt like summer. But that was not enough. Oh no.



We then proceeded to church.















And sat comfortably at the altar.











Drinks were a bit pricier than elsewhere, but one gladly pays the difference. We must try their food out at some point too, it looked quite good.
This city never ceases to amaze me.

What Have I Done To Deserve This?

I may have mentioned the fact that Nottingham has an endless amount of good, cheap restaurants. On Monday we were convinced we were pretty much through all the places worth going to (with an impressive list of at least 25 different places visited), and then we found it. A buffet that does incredible Indian food (I didn't even get to the Chinese or Thai...), Red Hot. And, to make matters worse, it's less than a two-minute walk from where we live.

It seems I'm going to have to start going to the gym three times a day just to keep my weight static. Losing any, at this point, is probably beyond possible.

Did I mention this place is near the best Chinese Buffet I've ever been to? That place is actually better than many Chinese restaurants I've been to.

And we live right by Scruffy's. Their mashed potatoes are honestly the best I've ever had--MrPicky held the record for the best mashed potatoes on the planet, and I was almost scared to find that one broken. Believe it or not.

I'm now relinquishing all hope of getting to 4550 Miles from Delhi ever again. Sigh.

I could start listing all the restaurants here, but there would be too many...

So there. I just look forward to taking fellow food-appreciator visitors around town, and watch their eyes pop out of their heads. Or buttons pop off their trousers, more likely.

Beat Me While I’m Still Down, Not Right When I’ve Managed to Get Up, OK?

Oh boy was I wrong last night. This morning I went to the wonderful café with free wireless only to find a notice on the door saying “Closed until further notice”.
I was there at 8am, right when I was supposed to start working. I then proceeded to trek over to the centre, trying to frantically locate another café with wireless. I managed to find a Café Nero eventually (great day for wearing not-so-comfortable-to-walk-in heels, it was supposed to be a 2min walk after all), and forked over £5 for 24-hr internet access. Well, it turns out they had no sockets for me to charge my laptop, and as I’d drained half of the battery last night expecting to plug it right in this morning at the previously mentioned wonderful café, I was in for another trek to yet another Nero (as my £5 investment is only good at Café Neros). I did find one, and was able to convince some people to move from the only table close enough for my battery cable’s reach.

Somebody threw MrPicky’s borrowed bike into the trash, and now that’s gone. Will be fun explaining that to the wonderful Samaritan who lent it to us out of the goodness of their heart. We still haven’t got our electricity bill (proof of address for our bank account), and it was supposed to arrive by yesterday. There’s no knowing when we’ll get internet either. The sporadic internet we get at the flat? That’s somebody else’s unprotected network, which they (understandably) switch off when they’re offline. Unfortunately for us (in this emergency state, you see) they do not seem to be internet addicts. They clearly aren’t WTers either.

But at least the sun is shining beautifully, and the birds are singing. Well, now that the throng of 20+ loud (words fail, and so does the decibel scale) teenagers have gone back to school or wherever they escaped from, I can imagine the birds singing outside.

Although I must say I’m now kind of nervous about what will happen next. Three Café Neros are not going to simultaneously close “until further notice”, are they? Are they?

It is worth mentioning that we must really love this place. Even though we’re getting shit shovelled on us at record-breaking speed, we still love it here. And that’s quite the achievement, all things considered.

Back from Oblivion--Megapost

We finally moved to Nottingham a week ago, and here’s how it’s going so far:

#1 Two hair-raising days at Ikea and a week of more hair-raising activities of furniture assembly later our new home is starting to take shape. If only someone had the energy to carry the roomful of cardboard boxes out. But our flat is really nice, our cats are settling in (I swear they were less harrowed after the flight than I was, and we got them out in record time), and we’ll have a nice, three-week breather before we have to carry a vanful of stuff all the way to the 2nd floor when our stuff from Finland arrives. How much would it cost to hire somebody to carry the boxes for us, I wonder? In the meantime I will proceed to increase my stamina (How many non-Brits does it take to change an innocent-looking ceiling lamp? Apparently two, armed to the teeth with all sorts of sharp and blunt don’t-run-with-these-or-somebody’s-going-to-get-hurt instruments) and bury my head in… well… alcohol? to ignore the coming dread.

#2 Despite all sorts of acrobatic maneuvers, we still have failed to secure a bank account or an internet connection at home. We’re living in hope day-by-day, waiting for the postman to arrive. Is postman-watching a national sport yet?

#3 My detailed account of our NY-LV-LA holiday is still nowhere to be seen. I can blame a multitude of things on this, including two weeks of pack-sleep-pack and fly-drive-shop-shop-sleep-unpack-assemble ad nauseam. But of course what it boils down is the fact that I haven’t had enough time to surf WT, let alone post on it, or update my blog. Must spend more work time on TT. And on the blog. Less time working. Gotta remember that one.

#4 I have successfully began my new job today. It wasn’t easy, but I did it. My morning began with a sluggish walk to the nearest Starbucks. Yes, I was prepared to pay the £10 for a day’s worth of internet, but when in a tight spot, squeeze yer already thin wallet. And what happened? I was unable to get intenet access of any kind, let alone one you pay for. At that point I was starting to worry, considering my options were pretty limited. My second option was a place that offers 30 mins of free internet to customers. I went there, trying to figure out how to arrange my work life according to perhaps two or three half-hour intenet slots. I was able to get online, but my joy was shortlived as I then proceeded to drop my mobile on the floor. Yes, you guessed correctly, it cracked, and for a grueling five minutes I thought it had gone the way of the dodo bird. Apparently there really is nothing tape can’t fix, as it now works perfectly well again. It was just the thought of being there, with no secure work access (which at that point was still not working and I really need that for work) and no phone, and no way of contacting MrPicky to come help me out. He did arrive, no armour or horse, but at that point I was more interested in his IT magic skills anyhow. And in a very knightly manner he did indeed relieve my distress (which, I might mention, was somewhat acute at that point) and provided much needed moral support.

I have saved the most horrendous part of this gruesome tale for last: all of this happened before 8:30 in the morning. Also before I’d had a drop of coffee.

But all is well, and I’m happy to have started my qualified-for-one’s-job-no-longer-temping life. Despite the fact I have to spend the next week (well, hopefully less but please, really, no longer, right?) working from a café –but they do have FREE WIRELESS (yes, you read correctly. I have free wireless for a month at the café now). Good? I don’t have to make coffee or food. I don’t have to pay the violently expensive £10 per day that I would’ve had the connection worked at Starbucks. Talk about a massive case of lucking out.Bad? Chairs are some kind of ancient torture devices (yes, they look gorgeous, but try sitting on furnishing-meant-to-be-eye-candy for 8 hrs), I have to dash out for a cigarette, keeping a watchful (and nervous which kind of defeats the point but anyway) eye on my laptop, and spending full workdays at a café will get expensive even if I do really only get two cups of coffee and a sandwich in the course of the day. Which I’ve gathered is pretty much the minimum if I don’t want my ass hauled out of here in the middle of important wo… oopsie, did I almost say work? Surfing, I mean.

#5 We’re more confident than ever that we made the right move moving here. So the clubs are death traps where you’ll either get shot or stabbed? We prefer being blissfully passed out from early drinking at that time anyhow. And, besides, the rumours are wildly exaggerated. The restaurant-café-bar scene here is truly amazing. Counting the 4-day trip in June, I have spent a total of 14 days in Nottingham, we’ve eaten out every day (we figured last week was the last week of “holiday” (although who was the sick fuck who thought that furnishing a flat from scratch by means of spending 20 hrs at Ikea and then countless days trying to assemble the mess would count as a holiday, inverted commas or not?), twice on some days, and we still haven’t gone to the same restaurant/pub/bar twice. I’m now starting to fear it may well be April before we’re done trying the new places and get to go to 4550 Miles from Delhi, the Best Indian Restaurant Ever.

#6 We finally saw Snakes on a Plane. Yes it was campy. Yes it was good. The fact that we have two movie theatres within a 5-min walk from the flat is blissful, especially since one is one of those colossal, megalomaniacal attempts at Hollywood barrage, and the other one shows independent movies we’ve been downloading till now. Of course the fact that our desktop computer (the mothership, in other words) is somewhere en route between here and Finland and the fact we have no internet to download with have absolutely nothing to do with this newfound love for movie theatres. Or should I say cinemas.

#7 Post-script: When I dragged my feet home, I found my wonderful MrPicky at home, no cardboard boxes in sight, and even wardrobe lights connected (a task I suspected would be completed in the gentle spring sunlight). Oh, and he craved chocolate. Which was a first (men just don't crave chocolate, ever. MrPicky normally rarely even wants any). So we went to the Hotel Chocolat, a chocolate shop in the center. Also known as Heaven On Earth. We even have internet access at home for the moment (sporadic but hey, gift horses, mouths and so on). I think I’ll now take a bath, then read the day’s papers while conducting scientific research into the benefits of chocolate.

Nottingham Part 3

Here's the hotel we stayed at. I can heartily recommend this to anybody going to N'ham --very nice

owners, clean rooms, free Internet and close to the center.
Here's their website: Park Hotel
I'd say Nottingham is excellent pissup material (for you WT people reading this),
amongst other things there's the best Indian restaurant I've been to (and I've been to many), 4550 Miles from Delhi
There's also a really great Turkish restaurant Antalya which is definitely worth visiting.

Not to mention the countless cafes, pubs, bars and clubs.
I'd say one would be very hard pressed to be bored in Nottingham. Or starve.

Can you tell I want to go back already?

Nottingham Part 2

Near the Lace Market area. Not a bad place to live!







So, the housing situation turned out well. Not well enough for us to come home with a definite place, but well enough for us to be comfortable with possibly renting a flat unseen. We visited several apartment buildings, and also found formidable possibilities online.

It seems there are a lot of "modern, professional" flats in the center, which basically translates to Scandinavian standards. I'm now very confident that we'll find something which will work for us, and not just as an emergency last-chance option. I will come back to this when I know more.

There are several potential areas, one better than the next. At this point choices (area-wise) are between best Indian restaurant on the planet, a nice, colorful area, an area with countless cafes, bars and pubs, and so on. You get the idea.
Not a bad situation to be in, as all areas are very much desirable.

Nottingham Part 1

A street with lots of cafes in the center. One place has deep, comfy sofas which I can see myself sinking into very often.


So we're back from Nottingham. I have to say it exceeded my expectations by about a million times. The immediate center is large and nice, lots of shopping streets and promenades, and restaurants and cafes beyond belief. The center is also cleaner than any other I have seen in England (to be honest I was expecting something akin to Birmingham), and there are lots of apartment buildings and houses within a minute from the immediate center.

I'm still dazed (but not confused!) by the trip--I have to say I can hardly wait to move.

The city seems very calm and safe; the center area has many potential areas for us to move to, all with different perks (read different restaurants or cafes nearby).

I wouldn't be me if I hadn't had a look at the shops, and I have to say that the shopping situation seems far superior to most cities I've been to. A close second to major European metropolises, I have to say.

I realize that I sound like a gushing a teenager, and also that I have rose-tinted full-strength glasses on, but I don't think that's the case. Perhaps if I'd never lived in England, or hadn't been to other cities (let alone lived in one), I might have a somewhat skewered idea of the city, but I think I am experienced enough to see things for what they are. And what they are works very well for me.

I think we're going to be very, very happy in Nottingham.

Bad Pickychick, Bad.

Last night I realized I'm a spoiled girl.
Why?
Well, I used to get so excited about travelling, that I'd have trouble sleeping for a week before the trip, and I'd also start packing at least a week in advance. I'd be taking stuff out and putting stuff in, pretty much obliterating any point there would've been to packing in advance, but I was just so excited I couldn't wait to go, and of course packing in advance will expediate the departure...

And now?
I left packing until last minute, trying to sort clothes out 30 min before heading out for the England game (and we leave today after I get off work).
Yes, we're going to Nottingham; yes, I get to explore the city we'll be living in for at least four years. Yet I haven't lost any sleep thinking about the trip, I haven't gone around town in a frenzy, buying travel-size bottles, jars and potions.

Apparently I'm taking it for granted.
I am bad.

But I wouldn't be me if I didn't have a list of mitigating factors ready:

1) As we will actually be moving there this isn't the culmination of the Nottingham experience

2) I'm waiting to hear on whether I get to continue working for my present company even though we're moving to England. I've been told there's a meeting about it TODAY. Of course I've been around enough to know that meetings of this nature are easily postponed and even if they're not, stuff rarely gets resolved effectively or quickly. But still.

So. We'll see how this develops.
Also, good news seems to coincide with travel for us. Last time I was going to England I found out about a year-long job the day before. On our way to Riga our house sold. When we were in Paris MrPicky got invited to an interview for the Fellowship he subsequently got. So there is precedence with things like this. Which doesn't make it any easier...

Picky's Countdown Schedule Begins

Holy shit.
Somehow time has crept up on me.
2 weeks until we go to Nottingham.
7 weeks until we go to America.
11 weeks until we start moving to England.

Wow. Now, of course, time could not possibly go fast enough, but I'd rather be on the cusp of moving with everything done and sorted. As things stand now, there's just so much stuff which needs a severe dose of logistics.

I'm so excited about the Nottingham trip. Four days to snoop around and try to figure out where we want to live!
I will be stuffing myself with Indian food and Naan. Oh yes.
It would be so nice to find a flat then, as opposed to perhaps having to fly to England again before the move (before the America trip? After?)… That would certainly simplify things a great deal.

As summer is seriously sucking here, I cannot wait to bask in the warmth of both NY and LV. All of a sudden +50C doesn't sound unpleasant at all. Sun, pool, watermelon? How can I possibly contain myself. Not to mention 5 days in New York… I do think we'll like it there. I am going to have to do some serious shopping (it's illegal for a female of the species to go to NY and NOT shop, right?), and hopefully we'll be able to go to either an SNL or Daily Show taping. Not to mention the museums. And the cafes. And the food. And oh my, we only have 5 days.

Yesh.
I can hardly wait for our trips.

I also can't wait for it to be, say, October, and for us to be all settled in, either.

But it's odd that although I sound complainy, I'm not stressing out, worried, or pulling my hair out. This is definitely something new, as far as mindsets go.

Forget Dressing Like Your Friends--Simultaneous Menstruating is the New Thing

So I went out with a friend and some of her friends from work (mental note: next time you decide to go out on a whim, make sure it's not with two cosmetologists, a nail artist and an interior design stylist...). I hedged between going and not going because I wasn't quite up to my normal state--feeling bloated, not quite "with it" and all that. In the end I decided to go, and it's just as well I did. As it turns out, out of five people three were on their period and the remaining two had theirs coming. Now it makes perfect sense that women who not only are friends but who also work together would be 'in sync' when in comes to this, but I just found it a very odd coincidence that I'd be on mine too, seeing as I only know one of them and we don't hang out much these days.

But yeah. Ditch calling your friends and color-coordinating, simultaneous menstruation is the new black! Nothing says tightly-knit-group like synchronized cramping.

Anyway, I had a great time, as we were all on the same page: good food, couple of drinks and then head home.
I was in bed by midnight. Ahhh...

As a sidenote, I have now dyed my roots and done my nails. If only I'd had the foresight... Not that it matters much, they were all great and didn't seem to be paying any attention to my horrid state (It's amazing just what an under-the-microscope feeling one can get, and a magnified one at that when it's that time of the month!), but I did curse the lack of hindsight-in-advance. Presight? No, fuck. There's even a word for it: foresight.

Speaks volumes I didn't think of that automatically, doesn't it?

My Body Has a Mind of its Own

Here's a bit of background so that this makes at least an itty bit of sense:
So, last August MrPicky went to England for two weeks. I got my period twice in a row. I figured it was due to me postponing my previous one, so I felt it made sense and that it was pretty much my own fault.

I'm not so sure anymore.

Now MrPicky leaves for England (for a few days, fortunately, especially if my theory holds true). And lo and behold, there it is. My period.

I have reached the conclusion that my body has decided that there is no point in not menstruating when MrPicky is out of the country. I do see the logic there, frighteningly enough.

For some reason I felt this urge to record this for posterity.
Now that that's out of my system, I'm going to go munch on comfort food and enjoy some comfort reading. In bed.