I have moved six times this year, running away from myself like a dog playing tiggy with its tail.
And like a predictable ship without a lighthouse, I washed up on the Sussex shore.
Thinking myself a maverick, I banded my CV amongst pubs in the Laines. Every bar lady - a fellow 30-something, broken compass:
“Oh, this was me four months ago, welcome to the shit storm”.
It was like a hall of fairground mirrors and I fell out penniless and seasick each time.
But I have finally laid down some roots back in London. I have changed on such a fundamental level that I am now living south of the river. What the ACTUAL fuck? I never thought I’d see the day. South London where there are no tubes and people get mugged. Right? That’s what the Evening Standard’s been telling me this whole time.
Here are the lessons that I have learned this year:
- When a guy asks you back to see the view from his room, he doesn’t mean the view FROM his room. Saying “oh yes, very nice” and scuttling out backwards at great speed could be deemed offensive.
- When working at Playboy’s head office, DO expect paper cuts from arduous filing. DON’T expect a fluffy tail and bunny ears.
- If a bloke escapes from his own hotel room after a night of passion and you wake alone with all of his possessions but not him, it is perfectly OK to rob him. (Who’s South London now, bitch)?!
- When working as an elf in a grotto, don’t let Santa tempt you in to his pyramid scheme.
- Be more aware of Labour policies when launching a one person attack on a table full of Tories. After 8 years of living in London, I had never met a Tory in real life, (never mind ones disguised as working class, nice people). To find out that my lovely, gay Brighton utopia was Tory led, shocked me. Instead of quoting well researched statistics at my new pub mates, I drunkenly screeched: "YOU DON’T CARE ABOUT THE POOR” before (accidentally) spilling my pint on a dog and leaving.
- Don’t order mussels in white wine sauce when dumping someone. It’s hard to leave something so tasty on the side. It’s even harder to say “what are we doing here? This isn’t fun. Return my key please” whilst maintaining eye contact and slurping fish stock.
- Don’t spend the entirety of your overdraft on local spirits in Indonesia so that when you finally get paid for your advert, rather than being a rich little queen, you have minus 8 pounds.
- Don’t let Bambi near you when in possession of bubble wrap.
- David Cameron put his winky in a pig's mouth. I want to put my pig skin in Jeremy Corbyn's mouth..
- Running naked at Glastonbury is more fun when a naked stranger spontaneously joins in. Note to self - don’t give a fellow streaker your business card and expect them to stow it away.
Living somewhere where you barricade your bedroom door each night isn’t good for your chi.
- Don't buy fake Ray Bans (Reg Bays). They are gash.
- Don’t flirt with other people’s boyfriends. (I am getting better at this).
- Moving somewhere where you don't know anyone is entirely possible. You will most likely meet incredible people and learn about yourself. Forcing yourself to be lonely is like a juice diet for the soul.
- Having a tiny, baby nephew can make your heart explode.
- You can only get away with stealing someone’s Nutella for so long.
- Just because a mate moved to California and posts filtered surf photos of her hippy trysts, doesn’t mean that your life of failed auditions and spreadsheet migration is meaningless.
- It is possible to walk away from something that hardly happens and is electric because it’s the right thing to do. Even when it has massive, lovely arms and your eyes meet at inappropriate times and you both feel like you finally know what Rod Stewart was singing about.
- If you have a wedgie, do yourself a favour - pick that bugger OUT.
- Being a Belieber isn't just OK. It is necessary.
Have a WONDERFUL 2016 people! Make lots of beautiful mistakes, eat well and stay off the drugs (unless you're on anti-depressants or Calpol). Follow your heart and live beyond your means. Also, give someone a hicky. Be Merry! )