Tripping and skipping

While the world seems to be going to hell in a really ugly hand basket life in my little London bubble has been washed freshly clean with a healthy dose of gratitude.

It's been a satisfying kind of week. Work is going really well, though I'm still struggling to accept the reality of my new situation. A month ago and I was ready to admit defeat, suck up the next six months doing all kinds of retail hell and then head back to Sydney with the need for A New Plan. And now, well I'm going to meetings at the Royal Academy and, this week, to New Bond St for a meeting with the head of press and marketing for Louis Vuitton to talk about art and education and websites and creative opportunities. It is a total trip. Intellectually and, so it is too proving, practically. Peckham is not a fun place to get to from Hammersmith every day - in fact it sort of sucks, but this last week getting home each night at 7.30 has meant LB has had dinner ready and waiting on the table for me. A sure fire stem to my exhausted tears and a wealth of brownie points for him.

On Thursday I stayed late to finish up some work and to check out the event the SLG's young people's group had organised - a video exhibition and Q&A with the main gallery artists. It was so fabulous - the enthusiasm, the professionalism - they even ran a bar offering a bevy of non-alcoholic cocktails. It was pretty fucking cool. And then on my way home I decided to play bus lottery - ie. get on the first one that comes along going vaguely in the direction I need it to and see where I end up. On Thursday I found myself winding through some fairly unappetising parts of south London before crossing Westminster Bridge and travelling up Whitehall to Trafalgar Square and Piccadilly Circus. I still get a kick out of the incidental history and architectural majesty that living and travelling through London offers. Which is lucky, as three hours of door to door travel every day is going to get dull very, very, soon. Or, like, yesterday.

This weekend has been lovely - in large part because yesterday was gloriously sunny. Spring is set to do just that at any moment now. The blossoms are getting their pink on and the magnolia trees, my favourite, are a whisper from exploding. I cannot wait. Yesterday I went to Notting Hill to meet my dear friend Nina, a fellow bride-to-be, and we enjoyed an extensive word vomit over flowers and table settings and dresses and ceremony plans while sitting in the sun eating cheese and drinking carrot and ginger juice at Daylesford Organic on Westbourne Grove. So civilised. I've already earmarked it as a place to take Mum next time she's in London. She might have to BYO sun though if Spring doesn't hurry up and get here.

And then last night I took LB out for dinner to celebrate my first pay cheque at our favourite Spanish restaurant, El Pirata in Mayfair. This was the same place where LB cupcake bombed me for my birthday.

Oh my GOD it feels good to be employed and to be able to do things like pay for dinner! The world suddenly feels full of possibility and conquerable even and my gratitude for the support of Lovely Boy, the Best Parentals and all my friends while despondency and quiet pessimism have been my accessories du jour over the last few months, god, let's call it a year, well it's bursting like the blossoms.