Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious ©

The one thing I have always been very lucky with in my life is friends and there is not a day that passes that I am not thankful for it.
So when I found myself in London knowing only two people I was unperturbed. Surely they were somewhere in the folds of time, I just hadn't met them yet.

And lo and behold, Chloe, one of my buddies in the old country came up with two friend suggestions and sent them via Facebook. Eve and Natalie.
Two girls that were already in London a few years, who she thought I’d really click with.
The girls and I started by exchanging polite emails and arranging to meet for a “coffee – date”. As planning progressed and the masks fell coffee was quickly substituted by drinks.

There is something very refreshing about talking to brand new people that have no idea about where your life is at that moment. I didn’t have to talk about any break up, meltdown, rubbish-baggage issue and they wouldn’t ask. I could present myself as I wanted to be.
Brand new, London Venus.

First I met Eve at a Street Party in Camden town.
There were stalls selling tasty treats and revellers as far as the eye could see. The bubbles from the machines set up on the sides of the street clashed with the guitar rifts that came from the local bands playing on stage.
Eve and I drank beer mixed with the salty sweat that gathered on our upper lip.
Who knew there was so much sun and fun in London? We talked about getting used to a new city, art, our dreams, what we thought about the countries we had left behind and found we agreed a lot.
I kept taking pictures of this very very happy day. Dancing children, teenagers with massive afros, men in carnival regalia and among them all, Eve, who was so happy to join in on any dancing going on. She lit up as she danced and I had a smile on my face just by looking at her.
When we left the street party at night, she told me she was very glad our friend had connected us through Facebook and that she’d love us to do something again soon.

- You’re such a positive person, she said to me. I smiled and hugged her.

On the way home I thought to myself that sometimes life tells us exactly what we need to know about ourselves. I AM POSITIVE. People enter and exit our life story all the time.
We are not defined by it. We are defined by that which is inside our hearts.
There was happiness in mine, there for all to see. Eve had given me the wonderful gift of holding up a mirror and letting me have a proper look at myself.

My second WebFriendDate was a picnic in St James’ Park. Natalie was turning 30 and she had invited us all out to St James to eat, drink wine and toast her amongst the squirrels.
She had set up her own Mad-Hatters party amid the trees. There were multicoloured cupcakes to catch the eye and wine to soothe the senses.

If you’ve ever read Enid Blyton, C.S. Lewis, Lewis Carroll or sang Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious along with Burt & Mary Poppins, walking among the willows and miniature lakes with the petite old fashioned bridges curving beautifully over them, your inner child suddenly wakes up.
The British have managed to craft a special kind of magic that appeals to children and the adults they become all around the world. In St James Park you can dive right into it.

I put some of the pink cupcake in my mouth and washed it down with white wine and just like Alice in Wonderland does I got smaller and smaller and everything got curioser and curioser …… or maybe I should say juvenile.

We laughed so much that Natalie got wine coming back up through her nose. I showed everyone my party piece, which is doing three cartwheels in a row (it takes great skill when you’ve consumed half a bottle of Pinot Grigio).
Natalie and I chatted all evening. We told each other things that you usually don’t say until you’ve met someone 4 or 5 times. Maybe it was the wine or the sugar rush or maybe it was that when two women feel they can trust each other there is no need for protocol. You just know.


I knew I had made two lovely new friends and through them I had also found a little new bit of myself. A new bit of strength I didn’t know I had.
I think it’s called Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

London Baptism ©

You’ve always got a choice between sadness and joy.

Joy is there; sometimes it feels like it’s at the back of the cupboard in a dusty corner that you haven’t checked in months, but its there.

The first weekend in July arrived to mark a month in London and a month being single. Now, if there is one place in the world that you would be lucky to be stranded alone in, it’s London.

My little changeling, the Internet would guide me to the best places. I decided to take myself on a weekend long date.
There was a Picasso exhibition on in the national gallery. The title was “Challenging the Past”, very appropriate, booked it for Saturday.
Coffee in Covent Garden before and a drink in Soho after. Nice one.
Then, Sunday would be spent exploring the South Bank.
To complete my internet planning, as every good newbie does, I logged on to “Transport for London”. I still hadn’t connected the city in my head. It consisted of fragmented little pieces. I just popped up in places from the subway like a mole poking its head out of the earth in the middle of a huge forest.

Picasso was amazing. He challenged all the masters that came before him by painting in their style and then brazenly wrote: Yo Van Gogh or Yo El Greco on the canvasses, which means I am Van Gogh, I am El Greco and why not? Don’t revere, challenge.

I thought I had relationship issues? Picasso was always just out of one and into another. I envied him for it. There is a sort of lightness about that.
I’d like to be like him. An artist immersed in what I’m doing, liking my partners but not taking them too seriously, never giving my heart away.
Yes, I think I can learn from Pablo. Yo Picasso.

The next day I started my walk in the evening at London Bridge and slowly explored the South Bank. The weather was glorious, the Thames sparkled as the sun went down and everyone was in a good mood.
And there in the middle of the hustle bustle was the Wooden O, the beautiful Globe, which He wrote for. All the wisdom of the world in one mind. I wonder what he’d think of Starbucks and the Real Greek right next to his lovely theatre. Would Shakespeare enjoy a Frapuccino or would he be an espresso man? I think the latter.

Then on to walk the Wobbly Bridge (this is what Londoners call the Millenium Bridge that connects the South Bank and Saint Pauls). It seems the architect wanted to share the picture of what he saw the first time he imagined it. St Pauls stands proud across the way beckoning you to come towards it. Postcard-perfect picture.
The bridge doesn’t wobble at all but it’s open on both sides giving you a feeling of walking on air and on the water at the same time. At night it’s majestic.

I stood there, on the air thinking: You know what Venus? Life is good. You’ve come here, you’re free, the world is your oyster. Just be and enjoy.

And suddenly my mobile rang. Who could it be? No one knew me.
The screen flashed "Mark", one of my work colleagues. Apparently he and his friends were in a private club in Shoreditch; having drinks by the outdoor pool and he wanted to know if I’d join them since I was new in London and didn’t know many people.

Yes please!

15 minutes and a black cab drive later I was at the top of Shoreditch House, with a unique view of the Gherkin, sipping Veuve Clicquot and making new friends.
The more champagne I had the more I lusted after the pool and told Mark I wished I could swim in the water that looked so calm and clean.
-Your wish is my command, he said and threw me in.
I had just received my London baptism.

Everyone clapped and cheered as I floated, fully clothed gazing at the urban skyline in the starlight.

What a lovely weekend to be newly single.

Facebook and the Male Gaze ©

When you’re used to existing under the gaze of an adoring male the absence of his eyes following you around the room can be the most painful part of a break up.

The ego takes a big hit.

If he’s not there to see me, who am I getting dressed up for? What's the point of getting my hair done ? Why am I not eating carbs?

And if you have a day when you feel really good about yourself somewhere in the back of your mind you’re wishing he could see you.

Enter Facebook. No one can ignore a shiny new photo album with detailed snaps of what you did last weekend. You can still have the feeling you’re being watched even if you can’t really confirm it.

So post brake up what else can an internet savvy girl do but put on her sexiest (yet demure and lady like) body con pink dress and get photographed, paparazzi style, all over London by a wonderful, compassionate friend who has come to the city for the weekend to provide much needed support.

Up the pictures went and they did not need photo shop, which surprised me to be honest.
I had dyed my hair blond, I hadn’t eaten in weeks and I was wearing pink.
I felt like death but I looked fabulous.

My kind-hearted friends quickly obliged with comments like:
“Oh my God, London suits you Girl!!!” or “You look like you’re having the time of your life” or “Wow!!!.... look at you all SEXY” or “Who is that Hot Mama?” Blah, blah, blah. All designed to capture his gaze.

He didn’t post a comment but he called to say it looked like I was having fun and ask how I was doing.
I cried the whole night after that call but no one was there to take a picture or post a comment, so technically it hadn’t happened.

And then my 30th birthday came. Something inside me snapped and made my Virtual self in the pink dress a distant memory. I enjoyed endless bars of Lindt chocolate, toast with lashings of butter and had cheese with my wine instead of olives.
For a while my body didn’t react and then suddenly it was as if I’d exploded.

I had found a way for both my ego and my need to fill the man shaped void to be satisfied.


Here it is in three easy steps:

1.Be strategic about when you take your pictures.
(First come the pictures then the cheese platter)
2.Make sure a really good friend is the photographer because sometimes the perfect picture takes an age to manifest.
3.If all else fails use Photoshop.

I think I speak on behalf of newly single people everywhere when I say:
God Bless Facebook

Virtual Breakup ©

Just like in the movies, every good story begins with a bad break up.

Cut to June 2009. I had just moved to London to save myself from the ugly recession cloud storming Europe.

I knew two people in the whole city and my boyfriend; the son of a politician in a corrupt land far-far away called me on Skype one night to let me know he had decided he’s was not going to be joining me in London as we had planned.

His parents had convinced him there were no opportunities for him in London. They had assured him that back in his own corrupt land of plenty a bright future was already mapped out for him. Maybe we could try and make it work long distance?

He also informed me that all his talk of having a little baby Venus so he could love two Venus’s not just one (his quote not mine) was a joke.
A joke, he always talked about it in the sweetest, most private moments a couple has. Like Sunday after sex and just before breakfast with the morning papers:
“Honey when will it be the three of us, so I can take care of two Venus’s? I might love her a little bit more though, will you mind that?”
My little mother-to-be heart would flutter all around the kitchen Disney style and I’d kiss him on the forehead because for the time being, he was my baby.

I put down the speakers attached to the computer and with hands that were shaking like a volcano was erupting inside me I typed “It’s over” into the chat option. Three very real years just ended with a virtual breakup, it hurt just as much as the face to face deal.

Skype kept buzzing in regular intervals for the next two hours. There was nothing more to say.