London 1

Dear Friends

Cape Town Forever

Wow, this has been the busiest two and a half weeks of my life, and I am very glad o be able to
announce that things are going very well, and so far there have been no major hiccups. Having been really busy, this is the only time that I am getting to touch base and let you all know of my movement to date. I am on a train on my way to Liverpool to visit my old friend Dave and the journey is expected to take 2 ½ hours, thanks for accompanying me on this journey….

Well, I left Cape Town under an air of drama and slightly drunk, which is to be expected from me – the air of drama I mean! We left the city for the airport a good 4 hours before my flight was due to depart and of course the entire Cape Town had decided that to start the weekend early, so we arrived at the airport just in time to check in, grab a bite then dash for the boarding gates. I was joined at the airport by Amy, Louise, Katrin, Callie and Charl, who made me feel really special. Going through immigration was made hardest by Amy who started crying and unleashed the floodgates, so much so that I could hardly answer the immigration official’s questions. It was my mother though who lived up to her reputation to evoke emotion in me, which is usually unadulterated rage. She called just as I went through immigration, which saw me breaking down in the middle of a busy airport. You see, my mother believes to this day that I am immigrating for good and that she will never see me again!

Slow start and Sussex speech

I arrived in London to glorious sunshine, albeit somewhat chilly. I spent the day uneventfully visiting gardening centres and home improvement shops with my very married and very pregnant friend Carol and her husband Nick, with I am staying all the way out in suburban Surrey.

Monday brought my first interview, which turned out to really be a dry-run interview for others to come. Fair enough for your first interview in almost 5 years I guess. The interviewer, a lovely girl-from-Essex-done-good, grilled me for a solid 45 minutes only to announce that she tough I was “too good” for the job and that I would be bored I two months. Although this was a compliment of sorts, I couldn’t help but feeling that I was being dumped because “I love you like a brother” or “It’s not you, it’s me”. Well, didn’t like the ways she spoke. That would have irritated me to no end.

My second interview on Tuesday with the publishers of the FTSE Global Markets magazine as Head of Advertising for Europe was long, but most exciting and thoroughly enjoyable. I left there certain that I wanted this job, and quite sure that I had at least landed a 2nd interview. I was to find out later that week. Wednesday and Thursday was spent interviewing for two other positions not worth the mention and in between punishing myself by applying for short-term positions, just to be told that I was overqualified by every singly temp employment agency. I never thought that I would ever get here.

I received a guttering phone call on Friday from the FTSE Global Markets magazine informing me that although I was a favourite for the job, I did not have the contacts in Europe needed to grow their presence on the continent. At the time I was sitting in Starbucks trying to make eyes at a rather gorgeous GQ-model-cum-businessman type sitting opposite me. I tried hard to contain my tears of missing home and disappointment, and as one tear fell into my skinny latte, I decided to lift myself up and face a rather hard decision I had to make that weekend.

New York, New York…

As some of you would know, prior to my leaving Cape Town, I had started interviewing for a position that came along quite out of the blue, in New York of all places. Now, I love New York, and would have given my two front teeth to live there given the right circumstances and the right the right amount of money, because New York is an expensive city. Well, the money and circumstances sure seemed good at the time. During the course of that first week in London I had several telephone interviews and on Wednesday I was offered the job and after my very disappointing week of interviews, I had to decide whether to take the job in New York or stay in London. My money was running out on Zola Budd’s legs and New York came with the promise of a rent free apartment in Manhattan and weekly pay in the beginning. This seemed most attractive at the time. On Friday night I went out and got stupidly drunk on my own on the West End, picked up a boy band member who didn’t phone.

On Saturday I nursed my hangover in Soho with Cape Town friends Zahira and Rory and bumped into Rupert Everett (literally) and he smiled at me. Oh, the joys of living in London! I wanted to tell him that his autobiography was crap, but was so stunned that all I could do was smile back! That night I got more drunk and danced the night away, and Sunday brought the hangover of hangovers.


Anyway, that’s me again with all the details! That’s all for now, will let you know the rest next week…