Fifty Shades of LA

Naturally it was assumed that on my return to the UK I would start job hunting, after all did I not continually moan about being a lady of leisure? Well yes I did, but mostly because having been raised from birth with a serious sense of work ethic I felt guilty about having the time to go for a pedicure and long lazy lunches. Three years of not working and keeping myself amused and I’ve gone from thinking what would I do all day if I didn’t work to how could I possibly find the time to hold down a Job?

The UK is in recession and jobs are now in short supply. Realising that even if I did wish to find employment, it wasn’t going to be easy, when I saw a local company advertising for a part-time administrator I hurriedly completed my on-line CV.  Absolute panic set in when I received a request to attend an interview the very next day.  I managed to put it off – I was due to paint my nails or something (actually the shipping container was being delivered) but then I made some further enquiries to find out exactly how many “part-time” hours a week were required and  ended up withdrawing my application altogether. What an earth had I been thinking of? 24 hours a week in an office after the freedom of California? It was just too much!

So I have negotiated a year’s reprieve from job seeking – after all with my husband working away what fun could we have on his R&R  if I was stuck  in an office all day?

And talking of fun, this does now mean that I can dedicate my time to writing my book - a genuine guide to ex-pat living based on my blog,  Life in the LA Bubble, although judging by  current trends I am seriously going to have to spice it up a bit to stand any chance of commercial success. My Sex Life in the LA Bubble is probably how it's going to have to end up.
 

I have every admiration for any author who can get work published and if that means lowering my standards, trust me I’ll do it. I can use my imagination....on the beach at Santa Monica, suspended from a coat hanger in my huge Hollywood style walk-in-closet, half way round the Buzz Lightyear laser ride at Disney - you name it, that’s where we did it - a torrid tale of sex-pats on tour or something similar.

I’m not quite sure how Fifty Shades hero Christian Grey as a CEO of major international corporation has the energy to return home after a hectic day making millions at the office to ravish his wife six times a night. My other half, a hard working employee of a similar major international corporation, could barely stay awake long enough to eat his dinner, let alone have the energy to get up to any tricks on the billiard table. That, I suppose is the difference between fact and fiction, and what makes a bestseller.

Unlock the handcuffs darling, I need to write another chapter.....

Rewind

  

My new found  "me time" must be used wisely. 

The invitation to join a friend at this summer's annual  Rewind 80's music festival in Henley  sounded like the  perfect solution to my quest to get out more and embark on new adventures. 

 

Luckily camping was not on the agenda but I packed my wellies, my folding armchair (I’m pretty sure kids don’t take those to Glastonbury but what the heck) and even managed to sneak in a Go-Ahead bar past festival security – I like to live dangerously. Security was surprisingly tight considering the majority of the audience were well into their 40’s. What’s the harm in a packet of jaffa cakes?

I was a total festival virgin but I needn't have worried. The wellies remained in locked in the car  the whole weekend and the sun shone.  Even the toilet facilities were surprisingly clean - on the first day!

1980’s music blared out for the whole weekend and I relived my youth. I was a New Romantic and 30 years later there I was still jumping up and down to a bit of Tainted Love. It was great to see Midge Ure, Marc Almond, Tony Hadley and the two guys from OMD still giving it their all.  Put a bit of sticking plaster across your nose - and there you have it - Adam Ant. Yes he was there too, to the delight of an audience very hot sweaty dandy highwaymen.

I decided this is the festival that parents take their teenage kids to for punishment –  yes you will have to suffer the indignity of watching mum and dad dancing in that weird 80’s way to all those old blokes up on stage. If my teenager doesn’t behave herself I’ve already threatened her with this next year.  The date’s  marked in my diary.  If she’s really bad, I might well add to the excitement by going in 80’s style fancy dress – yes I too could be a drunken rubic cube shaking my stuff at 2.00 pm on a Saturday afternoon.

I belong to a generation that is determined to grow old disgracefully. When my kids were small they used to ask why old ladies always had curly grey permed hair - well in future they won't.  I can't do anything about the curls, they happen naturally every time it rains, but grey - definitely not. Nor will there be whist drives or tea dances - as long as Rewind stays around.

 

 

 

The New Regime

The key thing about blogging is to make the mundane seem interesting.


An LA lifestyle sounds so exotic -  cocktails by the pool, red carpet events, rubbing shoulders with celebrities. Of course it wasn't like that at all - there was the housework, the school run, the grocery shopping......but experiencing everyday life in a totally different setting and  having the opportunity  to embrace a new culture, both the weird and the wonderful, did make blogging extremely easy. There was just so much to write about. 

A blog is nothing more than an on-line diary - I worry that blogging about life in the UK will not just sound decidedly dull, but could also seriously damage my social life.  Will friends want to go out with me if they know their antics could end up on-line? I'll have to airbrush events, change names, use a bit of artistic licence. I need my old friends. I used to return to the UK two or three times a year from the US and have a manic week socialising – out to coffee, out to lunch; wining and dining every night. Now I have to pace myself to once a week - I don’t want to over-do the needy person routine. 

I need to make being by myself fun.  I need to get out more. 

When we lived in the US we were determined to make the most of every moment.  Now I need to do the same here.   Travel broadens the mind, widens horizons and changes perceptions.  The UK seems so small - small roads, small parking spaces, but oh so cozy and so comforting. I need to be more adventurous. This is the first time I've lived on my own for any great length of time, and yes I know I have a cat and a teenager but they are both pretty independent creatures who don't demand an awful lot of attention.

So, the new order begins.  The husband is hard at work in the Saudi desert, daughter no 1 is still in London about to embark on the third year of her degree, and the teenager is off to sixth form.  It's just me, the cat and the keyboard.

 

 

 

 

 

Life After LA

Me, missing California? No way. All that sunshine? Who needs it. It’s England in September and I’m in a vest top and cotton skirt; I’ve had lunch in the pub; a walk in the countryside. What more could I want?

I spent three years living in LA and I couldn’t wait to return to the UK.  I’d got fed up of that easy lifestyle in the land of celebrity and excess. I’d got fed up of hearing about Kim Kardashian and Kobe Bryant (Kobe who?) every morning on the local LA news. The novelty of living in a bubble and not knowing what was going on in the rest of the world had worn off. In the US there is no rest of the world – the world starts at the Pacific west coast and ends 2,500 miles later at the Atlantic.  Anything north of Wisconsin or south of San Diego – who needs to know?  Talk about insular!

But  now of course, back in that lush green countryside, all those things I craved as normal now seem rather strange. I hadn’t realised just how acclimitised I had become – not just to the mega convenience of US life, but I’d become a townie.  Now I’m back in the longed for countryside  and I realise I’ve only been to movies once in the last 8 weeks. I’ve only had one takeaway, I have to get in my car every time I need something from the grocery store. And it costs me £50( $80) to fill my car up with gas.

I used to complain I felt I didn’t fit in – the friends I left behind were the ones I felt comfortable and familiar with. Now I’m out of touch with everyone again; I’m the fish out of water and I have to muscle my way back in. Last time I lived here I was a working mum of two teenagers. Now I'm this lazy leisure lady with too much time on her hands. My old friends are all at work; they have their routine.   I’m the one in the chaos zone.

Do I get up? Do I stay in bed? No I’ll write another blog. 

You see everyone writes a blog about being an ex-pat, but nobody warns you what it's like when you come back - as an Ex-ex-pat, and to be honest it is a bit weird.  It's unsettling; what I used to always think of "home" is actually unfamiliar territory.

Of course it wont be as exciting as Life in the LA Bubble because well, this isn’t LA any more. This is  England. But I still do things. I go out. I go to events. I visit places. How hard can it be to come up with 500 irreverent words every week?  Time to suck it and see.