A Nice Reunion, and Life without Google Chrome...

Having had a rather perturbed night, which I blame on falling asleep face down on my bed with all my clothes on, I awoke properly at midday and immediately reached for my laptop, only to discover that Google Chrome still wasn't working. I was annoyed, but well rested, so I calmly set about fixing the problem. I turned my computer off and on again (in true IT Crowd fashion) and tried uninstalling and re-installing the browser. But to no avail. I eventually admitted temporary defeat, Skyped my mum and then went to Piccadilly Circus to meet an old housemate of mine, Chrissie. The house in question was one in Plaistow where I lived for a month and a half, after I got back from Adelaide, and Chrissie lived there with her boyfriend, Rob. The landlord wasn't the nicest guy ever and a slightly bad tempered girl who refused to let anyone answer the door in case it was bailiffs had the room next to me, but I did do my first stand up comedy slots, attend a regular pub quiz and read a lot of (I would say worthy) books while I was there, and Rob and Chrissie did teach me how to play poker (as well as introducing me to Mortal Kombat), so I have fond memories.

After a lovely reunion lunch, which we had in The Coffee Bar (seriously the best place ever!) I returned home and set to the task of fixing Google Chrome with a vengeance, because the online world is just not as nice when viewed through Internet Explorer. After every other option had been exhausted, I finally admitted that I was going to have pay £28 for some instant message tech support. Google Chrome really is that important to me. The whole experience was quite exciting actually. The tech support guy had to take control of my computer so I ended up just staring at this mouse magically sorting everything out for me and then click on a word document and then letters appear explaining what was wrong. While all this was going on, Lucy was making a compilation video of last night's acts so bits of their songs kept drifting through to me. A recurring line was: 'I sit at my computer and I fart my brains out', which helped to make the whole experience even more surreal than it already was. Google Chrome did get fixed though so, at the end of the day, it was all fine.

Then I tidied and swept my room (I know, wow...), watched an episode of Sorority Girls, which does just keep getting better and better, and chatted to my dad and step mum on the phone, giving them an abridged version of the breaking down of gender stereotypes conversation. I've come to the conclusion that we are living in an incredible time right now as regards that kind of thing. I mean, we must be one of the only societies in the world ever (or in living memories anyway) where women can gain their own financial security through having a career as opposed to getting married. For the first time in years, women don't have to get married and men don't have to be the only ones bread winning. I think Britain (and probably most of the Western world) is going through a huge cultural change and it's very exciting. Although no wonder sex and relationships have become such a minefield! When there's no necessity anymore, there's a lot more room for feelings and heartbreak and embarrassment.

Anyway, on that note, bed time pour moi. I plan to fall asleep under the covers, with sparklingly clean teeth, and in my pyjamas!

Quite a lot of Coffee and some Musical Comedy Fun!

I had both in the end, pasta and a bagel. I was getting really stressed because I couldn't figure out which one I wanted more, so in the end I thought: 'Hell Jacinta, just have both! It was your birthday 5 days ago...' And I thoroughly enjoyed all of it! I even had an apple for dessert.

So on to today (or rather, yesterday): I awoke at a decent hour (10am) this morning, and spent a leisurely few hours addressing my thank you cards (writing, addressing and sending cards are three completely different matters entirely!), admonishing Olive for ripping up some loo roll as well as biting my finger and watching a TV show called Sorority Girls on 4od. I overcame my shame of enjoying programmes of this sort about a month ago (when I watched a full episode of Take Me Out and realised I was completely hooked) and will happily say that it was AMAZING. I recommend. But only if you like that sort of thing. If American sororities and amusing British girls hold no interest for you, then probably don't watch it...

Awhile later, I met my brother's girlfriend, Marie, at Queen's Park station for coffee and a book/phone exchange. She was looking extremely beautiful with red lipstick and a purple coat and purple dress; she even had a purple notebook which I thought was pretty impressive, even though she did insist that that was accidental. I was pretty colour coded too as it turns out, with a lot of yellows and greens going on; even green nail varnish. This is the first time I've felt the urge to wear nail varnish in months, and I think it's a sign that Spring has definitely arrived! I hope...

Anyway, we went to Gail's for coffee. Anyone who has not experienced the delights of Gail's coffees and pastries needs to do so pronto. It's expensive, but lovely! Once seated, and sipping our latte and breakfast tea, I gave Marie back her Moomin Troll book that she leant me in December (the Moomins are so great, aren't they?) and she gave me her old phone, which is a touch screen Nokia that gets email and Facebook and has a camera. A huge upgrade on my current £10 Samsung! I used to have a £15 Samsung with a sticker of an eye on it (literally an eye phone... I know, pretty funny...) but alas, it got lost while I was at a silent opera of a modernised La Boheme underneath Waterloo Station last week.

Having bid goodbye to Marie at the station, I arrived home and immediately received a text from Lucy saying she was in Gail's. So I returned to said coffee shop, picked up another latte and the two of us walked home again. Waiting meekly outside the door was Lucy's awesome (for want of a better word) grandma, Joyce. She had come round because the three of us were about to set off to Canterbury for: Chatback Comedy's Homage to Musical Comedy. Chatback Comedy is a business that Lucy and her University friend, Sam, set up a couple of years ago and which is now really successful! I've been to at least half of the nights they've organised since September 2011 and they're consistently of a very high standard.

I was extremely excited for this month's show, being a great lover of most musical comedy, and I was not disappointed. Jay Foreman was compering and every single one of his songs I love. He has an absolutely brilliant one called Stealing Food which, if you've ever sneakily had some of your flatmates' cereal or maybe an egg or two, you should be able to appreciate. The lineup itself was Rob Carter, Carys Nia Williams, Anthony Dewson and Kev Orkian. Rob Carter and Anthony Dewson (the two I hadn't previously seen or heard of) stood out particularly for me. I shan't even attempt to explain their sets because I won't do justice to them, but they were very good!

Having had some nice chats with all of our excellent Canterbury friends (including a particularly good one about the importance of pens and notebooks with Dan, who is a very talented artist), Lucy, Joyce and I all returned to the car with the addition of Rob and his guitar. I thoroughly enjoyed our drive home, but then I always enjoy car journeys, particularly if the company's good and I'm not the one driving! I seem to remember we sang Stealing Food quite a bit. And talked about Maths... And Rob said he'd like to play Settlers of Catan, so that's good!

After dropping off Joyce at her house (and Rob at a place where we hoped he could find a bus), Lucy and I arrived back at Queen's Park to be greeted by a kitchen filled with bags of American sweets, thanks to Sofi who had just got back from California a few hours earlier. Sadly we couldn't talk to her immediately as she was already asleep. Once the initial excitement of looking at American goodies had died down sufficiently, Lucy counted out the Chatback money and then came into my room with a bottle of Becks and we somehow ended up discussing sex, relationships and how the breaking down of gender stereotypes was making them a lot more confusing than they used to be. While all this was going on, Olive decided to settle under my bed and I think she might still be there. I do feel very honoured that she should choose to spend the night my room.

Becks drunk and sex and relationships talk temporarily exhausted, we decided it was about time to go to sleep. I turned to my computer and realised that it had sneakily restarted and that Google Chrome had decided not to work anymore; so I had to write all of this in Internet Explorer, which has made me extremely upset! First world problems, eh?...

An Unexpected Outing, Some Thoughts and Thank You Cards!

Having decided last night that today was going to be a relaxing day of correspondence, writing thank you cards and washing the dishes in my pyjamas, I set no alarm and was rudely awoken at 11.30am by something painfully heavy landing on my chest. I half opened my eyes and was surprised to see a furry ginger nose less than an inch from my face. 'Oh, hello Olive...' I mumbled after the initial shock and vague terror had worn off. Olive is our resident cat. She is bad tempered and haughty and only expresses any affection towards you when she wants something, but I am completely in love with her and feel quite emotional with happiness whenever she gives me any attention. It's rather like an unhealthy love affair, but I guess that's cats for you!

Having sniffed my face for a bit, and appearing satisfied, she settled herself down on my stomach. Slowly, I reached out for my Ben Elton book (Dead Famous) and we both lay there companionably for about ten minutes. Next, moving as little as possible, I felt around for my laptop (for my just woken up, pre shower Facebook check) and was happy to see I had one message. I clicked on it, feeling the customary excitement the little red square and white '1' always gives me, and then sat up with a start. It was from an old school friend, Tomas, giving me his number and saying he'd see me later. Scrawling frantically to earlier messages I remembered that we were meant to be meeting in Covent Garden at 12pm that day. I leapt from the bed, yelling my apologies down the hall way to the fast retreating (and rather angry) Olive, threw on some clothes and dashed from the house.

Half an hour later we met at Piccadilly Circus and he told me he hadn't minded my being late at all as he had got to explore Soho and been approached by a lady in a long tweed coat asking if he was looking for any sex. I found the story quite amusing but it also occurred to me that, being female, this was a side to Soho (and Red Light districts generally) that I had never, and probably would never, experience. I'm sure there's some sort of discussion there... Like, is it bad that just men are being offered paid sex or is it bad that women are offering paid sex? Should men and women both offer it, or should no-one offer it?...

Anyway, after lunching in The Coffee Bar next to Leicester Square Station (probably my favourite place in the whole world), we spent an enjoyable afternoon exploring Soho, Westminster, Green Park (I'm ashamed to admit that, until we checked the map, we weren't entirely sure if the massive building with loads of people around it was Buckingham Palace or not), Regent Street and Trafalgar Square. Tomas even managed to climb (with more difficulty than he expected) onto one of the lions at the corners of Nelson's Column plinth: something I intend to do at some point in my life, but decided against today! After glancing in the Apple Store and giving up on Hamleys due to the sheer amount of people, he commented that the High Street certainly didn't seem to be dead and we parted ways at Oxford Circus.

Once back at home, I was greeted by a package with S.W.A.L.K. written on the back and an adorable pink flannel with hearts on it inside. Who it was from I have no idea... (by which I mean I think it was from my mum, but shh...) I then, after noticing with relief, and a slight twinge of guilt, that Lucy had done the washing up, paid my first two weeks rent and sat down to write my thank you cards (it was my 20th birthday last weekend and I got some lovely cards and very good presents).

While I was doing this, I got a call from my dad. After chatting pleasantly for awhile, he told me that our cousin (well, his cousin, my first cousin once removed) had been diagnosed with cancer and the first lot of treatment hadn't worked. He seemed to be quite affected by it, obviously because his cousin could potentially be dying, but also because he's roughly the same age as her. He said: 'It reminds you that we're all hanging on by a thread.' It was a very sobering thought and we both determined to make the most of life while we had it. And I hope that Teresa (the cousin) does get better and is able to enjoy more of her life as well.

Anyhow, cards completed (two simple words, but it took effort! I wrote little life updates in each one as well as descriptions of what I specifically liked about their card), I had a deliciously hot bath (with my new flannel), got into my pyjamas and am now considering making a halloumi and sundried tomato pesto bagel. Or maybe pasta... Either way, what a productive day!

So why London, Jacinta? And why no Uni?!

For most of my school life I was quite sure that, grades allowing, I would read History at Cambridge. I would spend hours of study time poring over the college prospectus whilst my friend did the same for Oxford. I was not particularly passionate about History and did not enjoy the lessons as much as, say, Drama or RE, but I remained unfailingly optimistic that I would get to University and discover a great love for the subject and for academia in general.

It wasn't until the Christmas term of my final year that this unshaken conviction quite suddenly deserted me. I was sitting in the common room at seven in the morning, frantically writing a History essay due in for two days earlier, when a liberating thought occurred to me: 'I don't enjoy this!' Never had my feelings about the essay writing involved in academic study presented themselves with such clarity and the relief was immense. I spent the next few weeks joyfully explaining to everyone that I was not going to apply to any University and nodding sympathetically when my peers complained about how difficult personal statements were. With no application, acceptance and/or rejection stress, this seemed like the best decision I'd ever made.

Having finished school I did some flyering work at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival; I went to London for four months and got work with a waiting agency; I flyered at the Adelaide Fringe Festival in Australia and I did some stand-up comedy spots in London and LA. I was having a wonderful (and productive) time and I never viewed this time as a 'gap year'. But apparently other people did.

As the following academic year approached, I began to notice a marked change in attitude amongst, most particularly, my family and, most worryingly, myself. As long as it was less than a year since I finished school, whatever I did, impressive or not, didn't much matter. It was my year to experience life and I was being indulged. Now that it was over I seemed to be expected to get a degree and start focusing on getting a 'proper job'. And all this despite the fact I'd been telling everyone, for just under two years, that I wasn't going to do any of that. I was shocked and all the energy I'd exerted and work I'd done over the past few months suddenly seemed to catch up on me. Sad, exhausted and lacking in a huge amount of self confidence, I moved back in with my parents and spent five months sleeping, eating and having a bit of an emotional meltdown.

And then finally, as we were getting ready for church on Christmas morning, my mum said: 'Jacinta, we need to talk about this.' So we didn't go to church but we did have a very good talk, the conclusion of which being that I needed to move back to London asap.

Slightly over a month later I am here, living with two good friends, Lucy and Sofi, in Queen's Park. Although I'm quite sure this is the right place to be, as I feel more comfortable and driven in London than anywhere else I've ever been and I understand how life works here, not quite everything has fallen into place as I thought it might. I still see no definite path to achieving my professional goals (not least because I'm not entirely sure what my professional goals are) and I still wake up guiltily at midday wondering why I haven't been doing productive things since eight in the morning. But I have been to some wonderful parties; extensively discussed feminism, the pros and cons of religion and Call the Midwife over many a peppermint tea, latte and bottle of red wine; booked tap dancing classes and played at least five games of Settlers of Catan. So it's definitely an improvement!

What the next few months (and years) will bring I have no idea, but I am very excited to find out.