THE GOOD LIFE

Monday I enjoyed a HI-larious three hours of constant laughing with Brenna, Elizabeth, and Brenna's friend Simon. Brenna's favourite standup comedian, Jim Gaffigan, is in town and through a little emailing she scored us free tickets to a show with nine standup comics, in a famous London nightclub . Oh, and did I mention that it was filmed for Comedy Central? And that because we were sitting so close to the front--and the cameras were pointed on us a great deal of the time--it's almost guaranteed that we'll be on the show? Yup. I'm gonna be on Comedy Central.

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This past weekend I spent watching Back to the Future, Indiana Jones, Muppets in Space and flying in an airplane. Not at the same time, of course. My friend from Swansea, Nick, has his pilot's license and convinced me to take a spin around on Friday.

This was a difficult decision for me, since the only other time I've been in a small plane was in Arizona in a glider. And the entire time I had a knot in my stomach that only sheer willpower stopped from turning into a full-fledged panic attack.

Perhaps it was the absence of my highstrung, anti-flying mother, but in the presence of calm, clearheaded Nick and his pilot friend Tom I wasn't nervous at all. Heck, two pilots (one of them about to become a commercial pilot) should be able to land the plane if anything happened. Which it didn't, of course. We sped off the runway and circled over the beautiful Worcestershire countryside not once, but three times, coming down onto the runway each time. I stared out the window, entranced by the beautiful patchwork of green fields and small Tudor farmhouses, along with the occassional church in a small village and stately home with intricate gardens. Once down and back in a car, the houses felt strange. I'd just been flying over them, peering into their back gardens... At any rate, I highly enjoyed it and no longer fear flying in tiny planes. That said, my dad's starting to take flying lessons, but there's no way I'm going to let him take me up till he's been flying for at least two years!

I enjoyed a relaxing weekend, beginning Thursday night, in the countryside--the first time I'd been outside of a town or city in five months, not counting the occassional train journey. Nick and his oh-so-cool parents, Barry and Andrea, live on the grounds of a stately home owned by a friend of Henry VIII, near the town of Droitwich Spa in Worcestershire, near Birmingham. It's a grand vista--a huge mansion surrounded by trees in an empty field--and I'm jealous they get to live there. They have a superb view to distant hills, and are even able to keep some chickens and feed their neighbour's sheep if they feel like it. That said, it's the city life for me. I had a sudden burst of happiness getting back into London on Sunday that resulted in me singing as I walked along the pavement. Still, it was fun driving around the adorable villages on Sunday before coming back to the hustle and bustle of the Big Smoke.

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It's interesting seeing where people's lives are taking them. Now's the big transition period, and I predict it will take another five years or so for everyone to get themselves sorted. Nick, for example, was nearing the completion of his business degree at Swansea when he woke up one morning and decided he wanted to be a pilot. I'm still waiting for the thunderbolt to hit! He's going to be an air traffic controller starting in October, with the eventual goal of being a commercial airline pilot. Good luck to him, I say. I wish I had a Life Plan.

I've been getting depressed lately, which is why I haven't been writing as much. Okay, it's pretty hard to be depressed when one of your best friends comes to visit (like Lucy did weekend before last) or you're on a minibreak (like this past weekend) or you're going out with cool people in the middle of the week and doing cool things. But the job hunt isn't going well and I have a sneaky suspicion that I need to beef up my CV before I'll be able to secure another job here. I'm trying, and I might even come back and stay with my friends Steven & Emma for a bit before going home to the farm next to the town of 200, near the most boring city in Illinois... just trying to delay the inevitable return to the historical wasteland that is North America!

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I've done some Cool Things recently:

Last Wednesday my friend Callum popped over from Bristol to see a musical and go out for drinks. We saw the fabulous Anything Goes, which I was in in high school as part of the chorus. It was a glorious building, a fantastic musical, and was followed by a bit too much wine and Callum asking if I want to attend the Naval Ball with him in Bristol on the 21st. Ooooh, another ball! With men in uniform! And the excuse to buy a dress! Of course I accepted, and am looking forward to going flying again, as Callum is an accomplished pilot who flew crop dusters and skydiving planes over Australia last summer. We'll probably hug the Welsh coastline on the Bristol Channel and might even fly over Swansea a bit! I think it's cool that Callum is even getting his hot air balloon license. And that if I'm around in March I can go to another ball in Kensington Palace. If that's not an incentive to say, I don't know what is!

Last night (Tuesday) I met up with a friend of a friend--Rob Smith, friend of James as opposed to the lead singer of the Cure. Had only met him once before, so was concerned I wouldn't recognise him. Luckily, he recognised me, and we hightailed it off to the famous Waxy O'Connor's near Leicester Square, full of trees and Celtic designs, then to Soho for dinner and drinks in two pubs I'd long admired in Covent Garden (the Roundhouse and the Maple Leaf, full of Canucks). Rob's an officer in the RAF, which I think is damn cool. So is his/James's friend Jamie, who's coming into town this weekend and meeting up with me as well.

Which brings me to the point: why are all of my friends here male? It's a puzzling question. Do British girls find it more difficult, or not worth their while, to make friends with an American girl? Is my American demeanor more attractive to the male population? Or do they all want to shag me or what? ;)

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One thing I realised I forgot to cover is my fabulous weekend with one of my few English girlfriends, the lovely Lucy. She and I were the best of friends during my time in Swansea, and she made my time there so much more enjoyable. It was fantastic seeing her again (I saw her in September when I visited the girls in Swansea), but I was sad when we bid farewell. Who knows when we'll see each other again?

The weekend she came was the 23--26, and it was highlighted by our Burns Night Supper on Saturday the 24th. Elizabeth joined us at the London Welsh Centre (I know--weird venue for a Scottish celebration, although I guess the Celtic cousins can band together in their mutual hatred of the English). We feasted on haggis, neeps and tatties, and the girls had to put up with me going 'neeps and tatties, neeps, neeps and tatties' to the tune of 'ass and titties, ass, ass and titties.' You get the point.

As it was the Highlands & Islands Society that put on the show, we were treated to songs in Gaelic that everyone sang along to (sadly, they were all old and there weren't any brawny kilt-wearing young laddies). We kept waiting to see who else would sit at our table, when in walked an African woman in full tribal garb--fabric wound around her head and all--and her four African children. She glided regally over to our table and spoke in an African language to her kids, but eventually started talking to Lucy. We found out they were Nigerian, and she was married to one of the Scottish men who helped organise the event. What an unusual combination! It provided us with many musings on how they must have met and gotten married...

Lucy and I rounded off the weekend by hitting Brick Lane Market and the wonderful Columbia Flower Market, followed by my all-time favourite, Spitalfields. Columbia Flower Market was something all of my co-workers continuously told me to visit, but I'm glad I waited until now to go to. If I'd gone earlier I would have been talked into buying tons of flowers! It was fantastic--Cockney men shouting out 'Four primroses for a fiver! Get 'em now!', just like My Fair Lady. Utterly fantastic. If I can stay here I'm going to get myself a flowerbox and plant some gorgeous flowers. If.

I talked Lucy into staying another night, as it was so nice being able to talk into the wee hours. I miss having her as a flatmate, and if gay marriage is ever legalised we plan on getting married so I can stay here. We know we can live together, as we did it for a year, and she can cook and I'll tidy. It'll be a sham, of course, but I can get residency after two years! :) Why not.

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So that's the life. This Friday my French friend Sonia and her boyfriend Richard are coming into London for the Very First Time. I'll be glad to repay the favour, as they took me and Stephan all over Paris over New Year's. Then I have a weekend to myself, followed by a five-day visit from my old boss from Illinois, and the Naval Ball. And the last weekend of February I have two events to go to: Tom's Sunday Cafe on the 29th, and a fancy dress party at my co-worker Tim's field hocky club. The theme: dress as your favourite Tube station. I have a great costume in mind, courtesy of Nick and his parents' creativity... more on that later.

Oh, and I have to find a husband or a job in the next 25 days. Wish me luck!

Love,
Theresa