An Irish Redhead in London : 28 days later


It’s been exactly a week since I packed my bags and said so long to Dublin but it wasn’t until I was having a cheeky stare out the window in the office on Friday that the realisation set in.

I live in London now. It’s mad, Ted.

To say it feels as though February was a whirlwind is probably a bit of an understatement. I’m just so fortunate to have found myself, much like my new feline friend Zola, falling and landing on my feet.

Hola Zola

Hola Zola

Two weeks at essentially gave me my groove back: A lost little girl who said she’d never leave home finally got her arse into gear, albeit very quickly. This day just two weeks ago I was flying home from that fateful fourteen day jaunt.

A seven day turnaround in Dublin gave me just enough time to tie up a ridiculous number of loose ends, get enough freelance work to get me through the first few weeks, and discover that my marvelous extended family would offer me a temporary home away from home.

What it didn’t give me was enough time to see my friends or appreciate just how much I’d miss my mum and Oz.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m hardly crying over it, I’d just prefer to have my cake and eat it too.

Anyway, as I mentioned, I’ve been taken in by my wonderful extended family and now find myself living in lovely Surrey until I can get a place of my own. I don’t think I was really as prepared for flat hunting as I thought, being honest.

It’s a bit like dating, isn’t it? You’ve got one rendezvous to make a decent impression, in the hopes of securing a second tête à tête.

My latest house hunting expeditions have taken me to the rather pretty Putney and simply lovely Southfields. A delightful Irish dog I met in Starbucks sold Southfields to me: Aoife had me at hello, and the ensuing snout in crotch, lead wrapped around leg antics provided another tale worthy of the London memory bank.

In fact, I think my whole first week has been rather unforgettable.

From taking the wrong train (twice) and tube (huw wouldn’t believe how dizzy I can be) to saying farewell to Spock under the influence of a glass of white wine at 6pm on a Friday evening, slipping into London life has been a joy.

The perfect welcome to London present, don'cha think?

The perfect welcome to London present, don’cha think?

Of course I’m sad to have had to leave so much of my life back home – Dublin will always be home – but I’ve got this really good feeling that London is where I’m supposed to be. And heaven knows, it’s been a long time since I’ve been so optimistic.

Perhaps it’s the little things that have made these seven days fly by. My first night in a new country was so delightful that huw couldn’t have planned it if you tried and it certainly set the tone for a wonderful week.

Here’s hoping the next seven days will be just as delightful. And not just by Craig David’s standards either.


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