I know I have disappeared from the blogging world. I have been doing a lot of soul searching, and my soul has been so heavy later, questioning things I have never before, uncertain about basically every aspect of life, in need of rest and clarification.
I wouldn't do that here - I mean, write about my anxieties, fears and my recent epiphany (aren't you curious!). No one needs to know what goes on in this very strange mind of mine, so I will not write here anymore.
HOWEVER, to the wine lovers...I have a new blog. I will really start on it this coming week. And yes, I will write about wine and whatever interesting topic I come across whilst living in London, working as wine advisor (in a luxury Department store) and presenter, studying for my WSET Level 4.
I am veeery excited about it. Here is the new link
I know a personal blog is about sharing. In this day and age that nothing is private, with Facebook, blogspot, twitter and everything else...our lives are supposed to be an open book. With a blog that is literally the case, but I have to learn when keep some things to myself.
So I will wisely not speak about my relationship anymore, not as I did in my last post, as it makes people uneasy. Everyone wants to hear about loving, healthy relationships, with lots of care and love. When someone talks about one which is not going well, we immediately think "Well, I wouldn't take that" "That guy is a bastard" "Why would she put up with that?" or just silently worry if our own partners are behaving like that too - but are just more discreet.
I don't think I have ever liked relationships...I like love. Isn't that childish? I don't like the living together, the sharing of domestic chorus, the interaction with your partner's family, the jealousy as there are other attractive people around, who will be attracted to your partner. I hate all of that. Some people, much more emotionally mature than me, handle everything so well, effortlessly, and like everything that comes with it. Even the fact that having a king size bed, your partner always end up really (read too) close to your face, snoring, mouth open (read bad breath) and occasionally drooling on your pillow (ohhhh, how I hate that).
I know you are supposed to take all of that, the good and the bad, with marriage, but I don't think I'm up for that.
So...I just shared a lot again now but, you know, I'm just speaking in general terms (yeah, right). And was just wondering if people secretly think like me, but still want to be married and live together and have children because there's what you're supposed to do and what everyone expects you to.
I was thinking lately that maybe, after all, I don't want to have children. I want to travel between two (faraway) countries and there's little practicability in that when it involves little ones. I love children, but do I want to give that up for them?
If I am not emotionally intelligent enough to handle a husband, how would I handle children?
Anyways, I think I am having an about to turn 30 crisis. I want those times back. When I'd come from work to MY home to see MY cats, have my bottle of wine ALONE in the bathtub or in front of the TV/computer, cook for ONE, leave all the dishes there unwashed cause I can't be bothered, putting some music on and dancing in front of the mirror not worrying if I looked silly and finish the day talking to my BOYFRIEND on the phone...no fights, just telling him I miss him and planning when we'd see each other again, when he'd come over...for just ONE night, of course.
Right. I've got to work more on trying to keep my trap shut, or my fingers wandering away on the keyboard.
All is nice at work department, for a change. I am learning a lot, I like the people I work with, I drink every single day using tasting as an excuse, the customers truly want and respect my opinion.
The day before yesterday I had to work on my own while my French (and handsome) boss was in a meeting, and I was quite proud of myself for managing. I was particularly proud when I a French lady entered the shop and I had an entire conversation with her in French! And I advised a French person about wine! French wine, even!
So I was quite content with myself and my life, until I arrived home.
You see, my husband...long before middle aged crisis, and before we even had children (I am rethinking the whole child thing now), has become a flirt. You know, that guy that hits on people to test himself, see if he still got it because he's an insecure pig? You know, the guy you want to punch on the face?
sigh. Yes, that seems to be him now.
I know, he used to hit on me when we worked together too. But I didn't see him hitting on anyone else, so I thought "Well, he fancies me. He really does. And only me"
Come to think about it now, he didn't have many options at the place we used to work, and not many girls found him attractive anyways (I heard a lot of "You are too pretty for him" from my colleagues).
But anyways...I digress.
I saw a mobile text from him to a couple of girls at his work...the kind which shows just too much intimacy. Too much for my liking. Definitely flirty. Most definitely inappropriate.
I confronted him, he said it was normal, it was no big deal, and that I was making a big thing out of nothing.
That made me madder.
He even said mild flirtation at the work place is completely common and everyone does it.
Fuming.
Well, I don't! And my boss is something (Tall, slim, blue eyes, French and knows about wine)
And his behavior extends outside the workplace. I have noticed him ogling women when I am right there, and the side smile. You know, my dear husband has this once charming, now irritating Clark-Gable-style side smile. And he's got a dimple too (I have one too but don't use it for evil purposes). My mother used to say he used to look like he had a stroke when he smiled ("Why doesn't he smile with both sides like normal people?" "I don't know, mum")
He also tends to make his voice deeper when he's around an attractive woman. Quite annoying.
I am sick and tired of being always the jealous one. So I am starting to learn from him. I will now sometimes pretend I got a mobile message and grin and pretend to look embarrassed. "Why are you smiling?" "Nothing", I say, and put the phone away. I know it infuriates him. But he'd never say anything.
I also take long glances at attractive or just acceptable looking men and when talking to a male, even if he's a shop assistant, I make eye to eye contact, and smile, and change my voice slightly too.
I still haven't had any reaction from my husband. But I will.
The title and the photo gave it away. Yes, things are much better now.
I am now working as junior manager of the wine shop who interviewed me a while ago (I couldn't take the job back then, and now I wish I had). I am really enjoying it.
It is a very small team of nice people. French and Italian. We are all married, all down to earth, all in love with wine and football, which means we do get together to drink wine while watching the world cup matches.
(England, Italy and France are all out, but I am still cheering for Brazil.)
It is very relaxed, very easy going and even though I am earning less and working more, I feel this is definitely a much better suited position for moi.
We talk about wine with each other and with customers, we cook good Italian or French food and work hard too - but always with pleasure. It is inWimbledon (South London) and since the famous tennis matches are on now, we are quite busy, with lots of famous tennis players, and many Americans and Australians customers- who we always try to convert to French wine drinkers.
As for home, I moved back to mother in law's, with the condition we would look for a place immediately. And we are. Though me and my husband disagree about the budget. The thing is...he is cheap and I am not. But we are trying to compromise.
Things with him improved anyways and he is definitely trying to be more attentive and negotiate his time at work and have the same days off as I do (in retail we can do that).
In the end - hoping this is the at least temporary end of our problems - everything worked out for the best. I do not regret having left. As a friend of mine says (are you there, Erika?), every husband should feel like they could lose their wife, at any moment.
Went to buy a shirt for my by job interview tomorrow. And since everything was so cheap there, decided to also purchase a spring coat (as you should in the windy, rainy english summer). Card declined.
I asked the checkouts girl to just put the shirt through. Card declined again.
Right. I was holding the queue and people were staring at me, so I decided to leave with my head down.
Went to check my balance: 4 pounds. That's all I have until the end of the month. As my only real friend around here is in Spain (she had the ticket booked already and I told her I couldn't go with her, which was wise, I couldn't afford a holiday), I had to call my husband, who didn't even try to call me these past couple of days.
So I will see him today, and I ask for money.
We all should get a lesson from this: If you want to quit everything, just make sure you have enough money to do it.
I have been away from this blog for a while. And I am not going to lie, it was not because I was extremely busy with my hectic but exciting life. No. The truth is I have been in great pain lately.
I had the hugest, most dramatic fight with my husband. I cried and yelled and truthfully, I wanted to hurt him. Now I am not going to details about the reasons of the fight. It happens with every couple, doesn't it? But this time, I had enough. I had enough living in that house and that every argument I had with my husband, my mother-in-law was somehow listening, and then defending her son to me- as he is such a good boy and has the best intentions at heart. No, I wasn't taking that anymore, and since Martin refused to get out of his mother's, I did.
I packed and went to a friend's house in North London. I caught the last train in tears. The pain was so much I wasn't ashamed of crying in front of anyone. I called my sister sobbing, and she told me to stay strong, and do what I believe is right.
It is been almost a week and I have not weakened. Is he sending me texts and e-mails to have me back? Absolutely. Did any of these convince me? Hell no. Texting and e-mailing is too easy. Too easy.
I would never stop him taking me for granted if I gave in immediately. So I am staying strong, as my sister told me to.
Then, as I am now in North London, the commute to the south of Surrey, where I work, wouldn't be doable. It would just be impossible. I might as well work in Paris and the Eurostar will get me there at the same amount of time. So I told work I needed some days off due to unforeseen circumstances. Today they called, putting some pressure on me to return to work. So I quit. I will never return there. It was a relief.
I hear people just taking it, a bad relationship and a bad job. They are miserable but they will not give up. They see it as something grand, fighting for it, sticking to it, taking it until it drains all your energies. People glorify all who refuses to quit, no matter what. That's fine, but I don't. I rather quit.
Am I scared? I am terrified. I can't live at my friend's forever, I have no idea how to fix my precociously problematic marriage, I am scared I will not get a job soon.
But I am not sitting still watching the world cup drinking a beer (although I do that too), I am looking for jobs and have already an interview on Monday.
So here it is (raise glass) for all quitters. If they say everything happens for a reason then we should be fine.
This is it. I am a serial cheater. Job cheater, at least. I had sent my CV to a chain of wine shops a week ago. And was invited for an interview (Seems my CV looks pretty decent). I pulled a "sickie" to attend it, and also to do a sparkling wine tasting. Once again, I thought the interview was rubbish (and I thought I was rubbish at the tasting as well), and once again, I was wrong. They called me up for a trial day, which fortunately was on a Saturday, so I wouldn't have to pull another sickie.
Meanwhile, I got paid. My first paycheck. I was quite happy about it, and started to think (on the way to work):"Mmmmm, maybe this isn't so bad. Maybe I am being too picky, too critical. I don't work that many hours a week, the money is good, the job is easy". So I went to work with one thing on my mind, I was going to evaluate how bearable my job was. Right.
I left work thinking "I am so tired, I got up so early, this "effing" train journey is so bloody long, that Lucy girl is a total bitch, I didn't even get a lunch break today, I really dislike my boss, and work itself is just ridiculous". How is that for an assessment?
So I went to the trial day at the wine shop. I really like wine shops, someday I hope to have my own, or have a wine bar. The manager looked a bit creepy, but he loved me. He immediately asked me to pick up any bottle in the shop and sell it to him, and so I did. He then said "Congratulations, you've got the job". That was the shortest "trial" ever.
Then he put me under a blind tasting, which I got at least country and grape varietal right. And for the rest of the time, we drank. Even champagne.
It seems they drink something every day, using customer tasting as an excuse. Or an excuse of "we have to drink to get to know the wines". I was fine with it.
On the way back, in the train, I saw my boss - the one I said I really dislike, remember? - and really felt like a cheater getting caught. Gladly, I looked slightly drunk on a Saturday afternoon so he would never guess I was at a job interview, or trial.
The job is for junior manager, by the way. I thought it was interesting as I have never managed a wine shop before and would like to know how it really works. The progression to Branch Manager is supposed to be fairly straightforward and quick.
Thing is...it is more hours and less money. As I am dying to leave my mother-in-law's house, that should be taken into account, no? Should I just do what I think would make me happier? And will more money make me happier? After all 400 pounds less a month is a lot. With 400 pounds I can have a great holiday (here in Europe, obviously), buy lots of clothes or my new wishlist item: The Phillips Lumea (my dream is to live a hairless, happy life).
If anyone has a word of wisdom anyone out there, it would be much appreciated. I tried asking my husband with the most depressing and disappoint results.
We are having marvelous days of sunshine in England lately. This weekend, I went to Hyde Park, I wore shorts and sunglasses, I swapped the coffee for a Starbucks' strawberries & cream milkshake. I can't emphasize enough how rare this is in the UK. As I sat outside a very French deli in Richmond (south London), I started remembering my last summer in Paris.
I lived in Paris for three months. I had always wanted to do that, it seemed like such a romantic idea. I was learning French in London's Alliance Francaise, I was working with wines - which basically forces you to speak some French, and I was deeply fascinated by the country, the history, the wines. I had been to France before. For someone who's afraid of airplanes, eurostar is a true blessing. I had also been to Champagne, 100 kms from Paris, which turned out to be one of the best trips of my life. And the Loire Valley. Gorgeous.
I would learn the language and study gastronomy, very Sabrina style (I don't know how many times I've seen this). I was hoping to come back as elegant, eloquent and sophisticated as Audrey did in the film.
I was really fearful that the French would be terribly mean to me, that they would be unfriendly and arrogant, as some people had warned me. Au contraire, they were lovely. They would talk to me on the street. Well, the men would. But it was never disrespectful, it was always like "Bonjour, mademoiselle!" with a smile. And I would smile back. My husband, Martin, then my boyfriend, would always visit me (he didn't like how men would talk to me even when he was around, though). He was living in Scotland, then in London, and we were used to a long distance relationship. It was heaven when he was there. We'd wake up to get our fresh baguette with brie, visit the Tourists sites, go to those famous Parisian cafes and Patisseries.
Cooking classes were fun, too. And everyone seemed to want to help me out with everything. I was having the time of my life.
Until one day I was walking to the Metro in the beginning of the afternoon and two guys approached me. For no reason at all (aside from probably that they were on drugs) they started punching and kicking me even after I fell on the grass, and took my bag. My life was in that bag. Passport, driving license, health insurance, keys, credit cards, photos, mobile, e-ve-ry-thing. After I realized what just had happened to me, I started screaming. I was helped by strangers. They called the police and an ambulance came for me.
My Paris dream was over.
I had the worst treatment at the hospital. I was waiting and waiting for hours to be seen by a doctor whilst laying in bed agonizing. I had no ID and I didn't remember by head any phone numbers. I couldn't go home - no money, no keys. To make things worse, I was in shock and just couldn't speak French. Not a word.
After I finally managed to get in touch with someone, the news traveled fast. Suddenly my sister was calling Martin sobbing on the phone, desperate (bless her) and within hours he was there with me. He drove all the way from London, and pretended I was beautiful even when my face was destroyed.
The police did nothing and the robbers were never caught. Everything just went from bad to worse after that day, and Parisians started confessing that violence was a massive problem there, but not really advertised - as they live of Tourism.
From that day, I hated when anyone looked at me or talked to me, I was so scared (I was a woman living by myself, after all), I was paranoid someone would attack me again.
I was relieved to come back.
Now, a year later, I start looking at things with nostalgia- maybe it's the way everything goes- and I can recall the good things, the beautiful views, the gorgeous weather and the smiling faces.
My sister introduced me to a band called Beirut many months ago, and I love it. I love the lead singer's voice, the instruments played and the video. The fact that they made it on the exact street I lived in Paris, Rue Oberkampf. It was a loud, young, bohemian neighborhood, and it always makes me think "Nah, it wasn't so bad".
I was going to write an extremely depressive post as this was the mood I was in. I am unhappy about my job and unhappy about the place I live in (what's left?) but instead of rambling again about my discontentment, I decided to write what would take to kick me off of that mood pronto. Wine. There.
Not only wine, alcohol. I'm by no means an alcoholic, but I am a wine specialist and a true wine lover. I think europeans have a better relationship with wine as not only a food enhancer, but a life enhancer.
I fell in love with wine earlier than I should admit, I was a teenager. I never got drunk, but I got numb.How wonderful that feeling...when your problems appear diminished and your anxieties become blurred.
How fantastic is to giggle with your friends all afternoon over a bottle of champagne; how delicious is a cold beer in a very hot weather, or happy-hour cocktails after a hard day of work, how gorgeous is a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon over dinner with your steak.
Now people like to point out to me that alcohol is poison. And quoting Frank Sinatra, they say alcohol is men's enemy but the bible told us to love our enemies. Joking aside, I kind of feel sorry for people who feel sick or depressed with alcohol. That never has been the case for me. It makes me happy (not to mention funnier, more sincere, braver and a better lover)
I do believe in drinking with moderation, and I never craved cigarette or drugs, but I hold an altar to Bacchus. And the more I know about it, the more I appreciate it and the more it fascinates me. Maybe it will slightly shorten my life, but when I look back and remember the champagne euphoria, I know it will be all worth it.
By the way, I am completely sober whilst writing this.
Since my new job so far has been a nightmare, I look forward to go home. The place I can have some peace, the place I can do whatever I want, and the place I can find some love. Home is sort of a compensation from work. When my husband isn't home - he isn't very often - I get love from Figgy the cat. He waits for me on my bed, meows when he seems me, asking for a stroke. He will also turn his little belly up so I can massage him. He lets me do that. I call him perfection or gorgeousness, and he lets me give him kisses. He also lets me feed him (my husband calls me "Figgy's bitch" but I think he's just slightly jealous). So I fed him yesterday.
I woke up today at 6 am, part of my new routine. Right, I went down to the kitchen already pissed off that I was awake at 6 am and had to go to that bloody job, and I found a to whom it may concern post-it: "Figgy is not a LION CUB FYI. He doesn't need that many biscuits! Stop overfeeding him! Thank you!" It was from my mother-in-law. Now I don't like sarcasm with my coffee and I didn't appreciate that. I went back upstairs and told my husband "We have to move out! You said it was temporary til I had a job. I have a job now!", to which he responded "Why should we waste our money on rent when we are saving to buy our own house?" (who's saving? maybe he is, I'm too self indulgent to save). So apparently I'm stuck to a list of house rules for a while longer. She actually gave me a written list the day after I moved in, when my husband was at work.
I'm not allowed to close the curtains during daytime, or close my door entirely except when changing. I also can't leave my wardrobe open, or eat in bed, or let Figgy in bed without many protective layers (Figgy is always in bed, layers or not). And those are just the bedroom rules! There are bathroom, kitchen and living room rules. I used to adore my mother in law but living with her cured that in no time!
Truth is no one should live with their mother past age of 18. Your mother or someone else's. But if it is someone else's mother is even worse, you cannot talk back! No, no, it's wrong: If you are married, three is a crowd, except for pets, pets are wonderful.
So now I'm eating risotto with a glass of white wine. In bed. Just to piss her off.
I am a jealous woman. Everyone knows. And boy, does my husband know! I have always been this way, and you could explain it with the fact my mother's two failed marriages were tainted by many infidelities. However, my sister , who grew up with me, isn't jealous at all. She is this understanding, kind human being who thinks everyone is entitled to fail to be monogamous some time, as its human, it's how life goes. Aren't we different.
It seems that most people think of being a jealous person as one the worst trait someone can possess. A sin for some. Such a low, ridiculous feeling for others. More than a few would roll their eyes and feel sorry for me. My friends would always say throughout my life that jealousy is useless and you cannot control what your partner does. That you are just hurting yourself and your partner. I heard it all and I am still jealous. Firstly because it is something I cannot control and secondly...I disagree with them.
Recently a friend started using Internet dating sites. Yesterday she was telling me about this guy who apparently has a great profile and asked for her phone number whilst flirting online. "The problem is - she tells me - is that he only calls from unknown numbers, and has never given me his telephone. When I asked for it, he just said he would call again later and was very sweet. Then he wanted to meet me at 2 pm but I couldn't make it, and now I want to reschedule but I don't know how to get hold of him, he's so nice and has a gorgeous photo!" "And he's married"- I told her. "What?" "Come on, he calls from a private number, doesn't give his mobile number to you, and wants to schedule a date at lunch time? On his work break?" She paused and said "Wow, I never thought of that".
I did, immediately. A friend of my mother was married for many years and suddenly found out her husband had been having an affair with their secretary (they were also business partners) for 2 and a half years. She would never have guessed. She had never been jealous, she never looked for clues, she never questioned him. Needless to say, her world was thrown upside down by this revelation, and now she had to think about their small children and their business, along with the fact that all of their nights she slept so sure that her husband was working overtime - he was with her. And now he was going to marry the other woman, much younger, of course.
And we read the papers and magazines and we know that happened to Sandra Bullock, Tiger's wife, Cheryl Cole, Shania Twain. And I cannot help but wonder: How didn't they know! They probably weren't jealous, they weren't suspicious. We all saw Sandra's Oscar acceptance speech and her love, trust and admiration for her husband.
My husband could never pull serial or continuous cheating. Not on me. I will discretely check the facts. I won't start a scene and I won't throw accusations without any proof. But for instance, when he works overtime and I cannot get hold of him on his mobile, I will call his workplace, and ask to speak to him. I make up an excuse or just say I miss him madly, he likes that.
I will also occasionally do the subtle checking the phone whilst he is in the shower.
Am I unhappy for that? Does it drive me crazy? Au contraire, I am not always checking, but it does give me peace of mind when I do, and if I find something I do not like, I will speak to him. We will talk about it.
My husband is never jealous, but I wish he was. I think up to some point it keeps the passion alive and prevents us from taking each other for granted. I think not only jealousy is healthy, It is necessary.
The first day of work is like your first day of school...at a new school. You are hoping you are going to like the classes, the teachers and your classmates. But in the back of your mind you know damn well that you are just going to have to study a lot of things you don't want to, that all the time that school consumes could be spent doing something so much funner (like sleeping!) and that you are probably going to dislike a lot of people there.
Same for work, just substitute classmates for colleagues, teaches for bosses, studying for actually working.
Yes, today was my first day. I woke up at 6 a.m. 6 am! It should be illegal. Against human rights or something. And it is so cold in the morning I could see my own breath (come on, it's spring!), then the train, changing the train, catching the bus. And I managed to arrive there late.
Right. I spent all day long in front of the computer, with my boss by my side, guiding me through the painful process of getting to know their computer softwares. I was looking forward to every little break I could get. Drinking water, coffee, a blessed soul even brought donuts for everyone today. And lunch time.
It was so much to take in, and the more I did my tasks the more I got confused. So.many.little.details. My under eye circles got deeper and darker each hour that went by. I finally finished my first daily dose of torture. I caught the bus home, then the train. I slept in the train. I never sleep in trains, buses or airplanes. But I did today, I was exhausted, I even set my alarm so I wouldn't miss my stop.
I came home at 6:30 pm. More than 12 hours of my day. Wasted.
Yes, wasted, because why the hell would my life be improved or become any more significant if I learn how to use a company's computer software? Am I really helping people the way I intended (once upon a time) by processing wine orders and organizing deliveries?
I think some people are not meant to have a boss and a routine and I am one of those. Some will say I am lazy or spoiled, or both. However I truly think that we limit our life so much having a stated time to even have lunch. We think of it as normal but is it?
When I met those actors at the wine tasting I saw people brave enough to just do what they wanted. I envy them. I am a coward. I fear failure.
And if you tell me you love your job and you are extremely happy with it...Well, good for you. I hate you.
(Note: This was written out of tiredness and utter frustration. I do apologize.)
I had an offer to do a Wine Tasting- Speed Dating thing a little while ago. I had mixed emotions about this: I wanted to do wine tastings but wasn't sure about the speed dating part. Somehow it cheapened it. It made the tasting seem like just an excuse for the dating. A topic of conversation, perhaps. Or just a way to get drunk faster and avoid the sheer embarrassment of talking about yourself to so many different strangers .
But I said alright, I will do it. It might be fun. It might give me confidence. I might do some networking.
Then the organizer, Anna, asked me to go on Friday (the 30th) and meet James, who would give her feedback about me, and Tom - who was also going for a trial.
I found out Tom and James were actors. And almost didn't go because of that. Why? Because I've never been much of an extrovert. I'm highly critical and I always feel silly trying to be funny and entertaining to a crowd of strangers. I'm funny and entertaining with my good friends only. And actors are...well, how can I explain?
They are very vocal, they can pull every expression and impression needed, even if they are not confident they will ooze confidence...because they are actors. Therefore I was insecure, I didn't want to be evaluated or compared to an actor. I called my friend and she told me that there wasn't a moment in my life that I didn't look secure, that I always look like I am in control. And many people have told me that (Sometimes mentioning intimidating and arrogant as well. Haha).
Right, I went there, met James, who was a very lovely Scottish guy (of course they would listen to him! Scottish accent is just adorable) and Tom, who is English and a truly nice guy as well.
I had the best time I have ever had whilst working. Seriously, get paid for that? To talk to people, to taste wines, to be around funny interesting colleagues? Beats waking up early to sit in front of a computer all day, don't you think?
So I took two lessons from Friday: One is that as soon as I can I will be my own boss, because teaching wines and interacting with people is what I love. And second is that I will never ever let an opportunity pass because of fear or insecurity.
If it wasn't for yesterday, I would be working right now. At a wine shop in Surrey. I would probably be bored out of my mind waiting for a customer to come in (Surrey is not exactly Oxford Street, you know) and would be looking at the bottles, maybe giving them a clean whilst yawning a bit and thinking why didn't I wash my hair this morning - it looks awful. But that didn't happen - because I've cheated on my new job yesterday.
Another company had sent me an e-mail ages ago asking to meet me for an interview Tuesday the 27th at 3:15 pm. They were very specific about the time and date, as they had too many candidates to see in such little time. I almost said "Sod this. I'm not going to get it, why bother?" but decided to, just one day before my new job was supposed to start, that I was going to go for the interview.
It was a bit hard to get there and I would have to pay a black cab (ridiculously expensive) and I almost gave up again on going if my husband didn't kindly mention that I was so "bloody lazy and cheap". So I went.
I wasn't enthusiastic at the interview. I was cold and confident, borderline arrogant. It was still on my mind "I'm not getting this job anyways, and I'm starting another one tomorrow" - perhaps just to protect myself.
They would ask questions like "How do you feel about getting to know a complete different wine list from your previous jobs?" I answered "Any new job will have a new and different wine list. It has happened before." (And I immediately thought "mmm...that was pretty bitchy"). And when they asked "How do you feel about deadlines?" I simply answered " I used to be a lawyer" and smiled with my mouth closed.
So I left the interview thinking "That was pretty rubbish. Oh well." and one hour later I get a beep from my Blackberry. New e-mail. It was from the interviewers. They said that they really wanted me to join their team. That a snap decision such as that one was unprecedented but they knew I had another job offer (I failed to mention that I had already accepted it though) and they didn't want to lose me for them. They said I was perfect for the role and they did not need to look further. Basically that I'm the one.(smile with mouth open)
I could feel my ego inflating. I felt fantastic.
I told my husband and mother-in-law who told me I should go to my job starting tomorrow (meaning today) anyways, because they - the new company, a wine importer- hadn't made a formal, proper offer yet.
Pardon??
No I will not, thankyouverymuch. I will enjoy some extra carefree-self indulging days because I had an offer. And they were desperate for me, they really, really loved me! (shining-teeth grin)
Anyone remembers Fiona Apple? I first heard of her in 1997, when I was still a very angry and depressed teenager. She was as almost as young as I was. I loved her. For no particular reason, I started humming one of her songs today and remembered when I was deeply in love with a guy who had just dumped me, and I would lie in bed listening to this song over and over crying myself to sleep. (Told you I used to take myself seriously!). Nevertheless, I still think the song is subtly gorgeous, with the piano and violins, and ohh...the sad lyrics.
Love ridden, I've looked at you
With the focus I gave to my birthday candles
I've wished on the lidded blue flames
Under your brow
And baby, I wished for you
Nobody sees when you are lying in your bed
And I wanna crawl in with you
But I cry instead
I want your warm, but it will only make
Me colder when it's over,
So I can't tonight, baby
No, not "baby" anymore - if I need you
I'll just use your simple name
Only kisses on the cheek from now on
And in a little while, we'll only have to wave
My hand won't hold you down no more
The path is clear to follow through
I stood too long in the way of the door
And now I'm giving up on you...
I finally went to the Victoria and Albert Museum in London to see the Grace Kelly Exhibition. We took a train to posh South Kensington - where the princes go on their rare night outings, and near where Prince William's girlfriend, Kate, lives. It is so cold and gorgeous at the same time, the perfect setting to see Grace.
Of course, we couldn't see the lovely Grace herself, but we did see her famous outfits - made for royal engagements or for films, her famous Hermes' bag and her even more famous Oscar. Wow, I had never seen an Academy award so up close. I remember being a child and thinking that I would definitely grow up to become an Oscar winning actress, wonder how that plan didn't quite progress. Anyways, I digress...back to Grace.
I used to be obsessed with Hitchcock's films, and she was in three of them. It was said even the master of suspense couldn't resist her, and I became increasingly interested in knowing who this stunning woman was, so read her biography - one of them- and one of my favorite coffee table books was and is Life: Remembering Grace (Great Photographers Series). She always fascinated me. But I supposed she's fascinating to most women. She always looked perfect. She was born rich, every man she met fell in love with her, she had a short but great career and she married a Prince. But I do imagine that she wasn't truly happy. Not after abandoning a "job" she loved, not moving so far away from friends and family. And missing the Hollywood cocktail parties to attend the ever so formal Royal ceremonies. I guess no one can have everything. But what the hell do I know?
I could google and youtube her and would never know. She gave nothing away. So enigmatic, so sophisticated and so elegant. Her name could only be Grace.
I am terribly self indulgent. I am not ashamed of it, in fact it is one of the things I most like about myself.
I used to be such a depressive-questioning-pessimistic teenager, and I like my adult self much better. I used to take myself very seriously, I would suffer and make sure everyone knew I was suffering. I used to read Byron, Shelley and Wilde. Now I will rarely sit and think about mortality and why life is as Woody Allen says - full of misery, loneliness and pain. Because...really, what is the point?
So when I have a day off with no one around, stuck in the suburbs of England, what do I do? I indulge.
My job hasn't started yet and yesterday I was out all day, so I took this day to do nothing. My husband asked as he always does - almost feeling sorry for me- as he leaves to go to work "So what are you doing today?" I smiled and said "Nothing!". I could see pity in his eyes. "Not even going to the gym?" "No. Nothing."
I was going to a museum in London today with my mother-in-law, but she decided she was going out to play bridge instead, and as my husband works all day and even Figgy the cat decided to go "hunting" in the garden, I am all alone. All-alone (grin).
So I spent a lot of time in the shower. I tried a new hair mask, I exfoliated my skin, I blew dry my perfumed hair slowly whilst reading another Audrey biography (Audrey: Her Real Story), which is actually pre-tty good. I had welsh cakes with coffee. I massaged my feet and sang "moon river", with Audrey still on my mind.
And the day is not over yet, and I have a nice bottle of New Zealand Pinot Noir downstairs. And 2 books to read. Ignorance is bliss, dreams serve for sweet relieving and life is truly lovely.
i've just got a job.
it's not my ideal one.
i don't love the idea of it.
oh the defeat.
it's enough to pay for my diploma in wines though.
meanwhile i'm planning my escape, my own business.
so i am reading this one now:
I am looking for work. As the UK is still recovering from recession, this is not an easy task. Now I am not just looking for work, I am looking for a job that I will love. Now I just must sound plain mad, no? As a friend once said after I had asked him if he was enjoying his job: " It's work, Its' not meant to be enjoyable"
However, I have left Law to work with wines, so for me...yes, it is. It was supposed to be. I would love to mix business with pleasure. Unfortunately, this hasn't been always the case.
I have worked as a Sommelier (for a famous TV Chef, I might add) and that was...torture at its best. 60 hours a week under pressure. Heard a lot of rude, abrupt, unnecessary remarks from Managers and people pretending to be Managers. Swallowed a lot of my pride and tried to forget my anger by treating myself to a bottle of the best Cabernet or Sauvignon after the daily ordeal was over.
I worked in Retail after that, and that was alright. I had fun with other wine Specialists, we had the wine tasting thing going on quite often. The boss was harmless to our ego and dignity. It got boring eventually.
Alain de Botton has been one of my favorite writers. Since he published Essays on Love. But sometimes he gets it wrong. He has a new book out: "The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work", on which he quotes "work is one of the most exciting and most painful of our activities". Ok, I agree with painful, but exciting? Speak for yourself, Botton!
One of the most exciting days of my husband's work was when the shop he manages was robbed, mission-impossible style (When no one was there). I remember his eyes sparkling as he imagined the scene of the thieves coming down from the ceiling - probably wearing masks and who knows, maybe a leather catsuit! - and stealing electric showers.
Wow. How can any other day of work top that?
But you know...he is completely contempt with it.
As for myself, after giving up my childhood dreams of being an actress, a singer or a ballerina- because frankly, I was mediocre in every single one of these forms of art - I am still looking for that job that will leave me enough time to improve my French, finish my wine studies, let me blog, twit, e-mail, facebook etc., travel, read, go to jazz clubs, cinemas, restaurants, do a dance or yoga class, whilst providing the money to do all of that. After all, there's much more to life than work, no?
Another friend once told me "Bless. You're such a dreamer".
As you know, I am a newlywed. Oh joy. I am completely, absolutely, deeply in love with my husband. I really am. Even though he doesn't like wine (or anything alcoholic except if colorful and sweet). Even though he's got an ever-growing belly. Even though he doesn't like reading. And likes to play videogames at the not so tender age of 30. I adore him.
I am not a good wife, I must admit. I am not a good cook, I am too lazy to clean the house (what's the matter of hiring a cleaner anyways?). And not only I'm bad with domestic tasks, I am also jealous. Very jealous. It's not pretty and I'm not proud of it. But I am. Blame it on my childhood or something.
My parents divorced when I was one. My mother remarried and got divorced again. My dad is now deceased. I don't really have a fantastic idea of marriage. I have a realistic one I suppose.
Still I want to work hard at it. I want to be a great wife. No, I won't take any shit from my husband but I still don't want him to be scared of me! (Right?) Though I like that Dustin Hoffman once said that the secret of his 30-year-marriage was that he was very, very scared of his wife. Brilliant.
Sooo...I decided to order this lovely book on the left
I will let you know later how it went. If it gave some great insights about married life and its secrets. Or if I'm just another dumb woman who buys self help books that will tell me what I already know, but never been bothered to do it, and probably will never do it anyways.
So watch this space.
Why am I starting this Blog? And Why whatever works?
I am bored. Moved to Surrey not long ago. Anyone knows Surrey? It is close to London, just not close enough. I moved in with my new husband and my mother-in-law (no, its not so bad as you might think). I have, let's say...a shortage of friends here. And my husband works 12 hours a day.
Whatever works is a film by Woody Allen. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xI73zkuLFV0
I love him, always had always will. And people will say it is not one of his best movies. I find it brilliant.
So this is my first film recommendation. Not that everyone will read this or care about what I have to say. Who am I anyways?
Well, I am female. I'm 29. I love to travel but am shit scared of airplanes. I love cats. And wine. I actually work in the wine Industry - if I can say that. I have a Law Degree but due to extreme boredom I decided to just...leave it. (Those 5 years of University were useful though - for making friends at least). I am extremely interested in people. My mother is a semi-famous psychologist. I read biographies. I specially like to read about 50's movie stars, no idea why. I am an Aquarius, ascendant in Aries, moon in Gemini (You see...My mother was also into Astrology). I am a a bit ADD. I can be very self indulgent. I miss my friends like hell, and my sister. I joined twitter today and thought "I might as well blog"
So there you go...that's all for today, folks. I will write more soon about my extremely exciting life. Count the seconds!
mmmmm...ok, I will stop.
style (I don't know how many times I've seen this). I was hoping to come back as elegant, eloquent and sophisticated as Audrey did in the film. 
I digress...back to Grace.
), which is actually pre-tty good. I had welsh cakes with coffee. I massaged my feet and sang "moon river", with Audrey still on my mind.
