Toto, I Don’t Think We’re in Swindon Anymore: On Moving to London

January 27, 2019February 9, 2019 My Housemate's a Mermaid (Alice E. Bennett) adult, British, Coffee, comedy, Commute, Cotswolds, Culture, Economy, Europe, Event, Humor, Humour, job, London, Mellennial, News, newspaper, Nonfiction, Office, Project, Project Management, Review, sophistication, Swindon, Uncategorized, Work, Young Professional Commute, London, Relocation, Swindon, Toto, Work

The below was written as part of an internal communication piece showcasing employees who have chosen to relocate for their work. My piece focused on moving to London but with a classic Alice twist.

I wake each morning and stare at an isolated patch of peeling paint. I don’t how it came to be or why I look blankly at it every morning, but it has become a weird habit I’ve developed since relocating. Everyone has habits here, some people get through their commute with a super-skinny-muchos-frappy-bean café deluxe, others smoke like the bellowing car exhausts on Tower Bridge, for me staring at length at a flaky patch is mine. And I wonder why my Mum worries for me.

The most over repeated piece of advice on Development schemes is to make your own opportunities and I suppose for me London represented this to the extreme. If I could survive in the big smoke I could thrive anywhere. Combined with an exciting placement proposition I could hear Threadneedle calling in May 2018.

Upon arrival I told myself that I wouldn’t become another digit on London’s loneliness statistics which is why I have made every effort to try new things outside of work. “Speed-friending” events are all the rage in central London, up there with humanitarian clubs and vegan veg-outs. Regardless of my outlook I’ve attended all manner of get-togethers and learnt so much of wider society. I’ve even learnt to embrace my inner hipster, sitting crossed legged at acoustic sets and hanging out in independent coffee shops in berets and neck scarves (and getting subsequently mistaken for being French. “Je suis…Anglais”, the end result of five years of the British education system).

From the moment I leave my flat each morning I’m reminded of how far removed I am from Swindon. The smell of soot in the air, angry cyclists cursing at pedestrians, the wrapper of a tourist poncho blowing down the street, admittedly my battered copy of Lonely Planet didn’t prepare me well for daily life in the capital. But through perseverance I’ve forged my own lifestyle and friendship groups and that’s what I’m proudest of. The experiences I encounter, good and bad, are shaping me into a stronger person, the person I never thought I could be.

My advice to anyone considering placement relocation comes as no surprise. Do it! In the protective bubble of development schemes there’s a lot to gain from taking a plunge. Just don’t get in the way of my morning commute, yeah?

London One Month in: A Brief Moment of Reflection

June 7, 2018 My Housemate's a Mermaid (Alice E. Bennett) adult, British, Coffee, comedy, Commute, Cotswolds, Culture, Europe, Humor, Humour, job, London, Nonfiction, sophistication, Swindon, Tourist, Uncategorized, Work, Young Professional London, One Month, Relocation, Review

At the end of this week I’ll have been living and working in the big smoke for a month and what a whirlwind of experiences it has been.

Walking past the Tower of London each morning like it’s just another overdeveloped house on the street, diving in and out of fellow commuters like it’s an art form (and, when it fails, dashing off without making eye contact). Staring blanking the world and for once the world happily blanking you back, this city is unlike anything I’ve ever encountered. It was when a cyclist yelled at me “watch the f**king road!” whilst jumping a red light that I realised I was properly London. Why? Because I did not care.

So when people in the very English town of Swindon grab me and ask “what’s London like?” or colleagues in London nudge me with take out cups “would you go back there [Swindon] now?” I feel myself lost for words. How can you defend a proudly average town surrounded by Cotswold beauty or champion a buzzing and vibrant city that rips you off at every turn? You just can’t, especially not in one sentence (which is what everyone wants). One month in and I don’t see myself being able to formulate a succinct sound bite anytime soon.

I swore to myself weeks before moving that I was not going to let this opportunity slip. I refused to spend eight months working flat out and then moping about my bedroom complaining I had nothing to do. I didn’t want to become like some of my other London friends or indeed like myself in the Cotswolds, brought up without visiting or fully appreciating what was on offer on one’s doorstep.

In light of this, here is a short list of some of the things I’ve done in my first month (well, three weeks three days):

Started a diary-come-log-come-Alice’s-attempts-at-professionalism
Walked along the South Bank A LOT
Visited the Tate Modern even more
Introduced to and then introduced others to Borough Market
Speed Friending (like speed dating but a lot more chilled out)
Made new friends
Caught up with very old friends
Comedy gigs
Explored Wapping
Tate Gallery
National Portrait Museum
Been out for drinks
General landmarks – e.g. St Pauls, Westminster, various bridges
Burnt 1,000,000,000,000,000 calories from walking everywhere (a mix of commuting and stubbornness to pay for the Tube. 90 minute walking time is my cut off point for getting the Tube on a weekend).
Got ill
Bought my weight in face cleansers after discovering the heat and air quality was making my skin truly disgusting (FYI I don’t plan on coming out of London with an improved life expectancy).
Spoilt countless tourist photos and selfies and walked into a number of French school children on purpose for taking up the entire pavement. Bruises of pride.

And this is only month one. As I get more established I hope to explore more of real London as opposed to tourist London through personal exploration and using my old and new friends (no pressure guys). I want to network with people and make a name for myself. And then I want to meet a rich banker who will take me out to the opera and buy me Hotel Chocolat chocolates for no reason (not just the free samples they give when you visit a shop). And then he’ll remind me how wonderfully amazing I am when I moan about the price of eggs and then buy me the most expensive eggs at M&S to prove a point. When the latter happens I’m not waiting around, consider the man engaged.

I mean I’m not asking for much right?

This Little Piggy Went to Market

May 2, 2018May 2, 2018 My Housemate's a Mermaid (Alice E. Bennett) adult, British, comedy, Culture, Humor, Humour, London, Project, Project Management, Swindon, Tourist, Travel, Uncategorized, University, Young Professional Capital, Corporate, London, Pig, Relocation, Work

You may be aware that I haven’t posted anything on here for a while. To be honest it baffles me too, although not quite as much as bafflement that I seem to have developed a mild addition to banana chips whilst conversely becoming less inclined to fresh bananas.

I’ve also been watching a lot of period dramas and Four Weddings and a Funeral, and I think it’s having an impact on my writing.

All my notes are full of deep, intellectual rubbish, like Austen writing scripts for the Kardashians, or like me…writing about bananas…

Moving swiftly on, the main reason why I haven’t been writing much of late is because I’ve decided to do something very crazy (“very Alice!” – without jazz hands). I won’t leave you in suspense or give you three guesses because you won’t get it, I’m moving to London. There, ok, I said it, can we move on now?

Why? It’s a long story so I’ll shorten it to one word: work

Am I being forced into it? Well no, but then I wanted to be involved with this super cool project and the boss people were like “but it’s in London” and I was like “ok” and they were like “it’s in London though” and I was like “London, London?” and they were like “yeah, like the capital of England London” and I was like “ok I accept” and they were like “cool so you start in two weeks yeah?” and I was like “say whaaa?” (And there’s the Kardashian in me coming out.)

Yes I am very much aware this goes completely against my traditionally held beliefs and flies right in the face of a previous article I wrote: 10 Things I Hate About London but hey, call me a hypocrite.

So far London has done a good job of trying to kill me. First there was mental exhaustion and dehydration from trying to find house viewings on the hottest day of the year so far. Linked to that was the absolute destruction of my feet which over a week later still haven’t fully recovered. Those were all ‘fun’. Now that I’ve found a place in East of the city the fun has begun of moving items into said property. Then there was the delight of lugging the world’s heaviest bag of coffee and shampoo across the city via the Tube network (hey, they say things are expensive in London, ain’t no way I’m being ripped off by 50p on my Herbal Essences). So now my legs look like this:

(In fact they look worse than that now, but I didn’t want to clutter my phone with pictures of bruised legs – such images have a limited mileage.) I’ve decided that the self inflicted injuries are going to continue and gradually work their way up my body. Accept it, move on.

But hey, at least I’m covered on snack bars!

Have I taken any clothes down? Nahh. Any books or kitchenware? No way! But do I have enough snack bars and a creative type duvet set? Hell yes!

I was far too excited to buy a duvet set that featured more than two colours

I have so totally got this London thing covered (pun not intended).

I’ve leave it at that for now while you all digest the news and take a moment to worry about my well being. More will come as and when but for now things to take away from this post are 1) I’m moving to London for a temporary position at a different office 2) I am still alive and writing and 3) I need banana chips.

What you can’t see in this photo are my swollen feet and the Yoda living statue behind me. My photography really wasn’t on top form that day.

(Ps Did you get it? Swindon = pig hill, piggy = Swindon = me? Did you get it? Huh? Oh I give up.)