Being a Proper Londoner

I’ve now been working in London for two months, and living here for nearly three. I wasn’t ever really set on the idea of truly being a Londoner, and I think a part of me kept considering fleeing home, so it didn’t really stick. But I finally feel like I’m learning the London ways and actually feeling like this is my home.

Just visiting the neighbours, hey Queenie

With the help of my colleagues, some Londoners through and through, I’m picking up some London ways, and acting like I live here. My first point of call was to join a gym. Okay, this may not sound very London-specific, but to me it’s a sign I’m committing to being here (for another month at least). It also does seem to be a part of the lifestyle, because everyone runs everywhere, picks up some protein and some form of avocado dish, and keeps running to the next thing (I will not be joining this craze, I do not run).

But anyway, I’ve made the plunge and joined the gym. I am now (officially, wheeeey) a member of Pure Gym in Wandsworth. It’s actually a pretty great gym (what do i know). I pay about the same as I did for a gym in Nottingham, it’s 24/7 (because I have always felt I needed to use the gym at 3am) AND it’s got some top notch free classes. I have attended a couple, and I can say I sweated like never before and came out looking disgusting. Always a good sign. Just wait, next thing you know I’ll be the skinny bitch I used to be.

However, I am still unsure how people fit the gym into their lifestyle and still function as a normal human. If I go to the gym before work, I am usually done for the day and ready for bed at around 3pm. Not ideal in an office where I work until 6pm… If I go after work, I have the dilemma of eating before and being completely unproductive in the gym, or eating after, and passing out due to starvation. If I make it past all these obstacles, I usually spend the entirety of the next day hobbling around, unable to use any of my muscles to walk (let alone go back to the gym). All in all, my gym experience has (clearly) been great. I think I am meant to be forever unfit.

In other news, I have finally mastered the London bus/oyster system. Hurrah! It only took me 24 years. I can now hop on a bus anywhere, anytime, and know when it is my time to get off – without having a minor panic attack about where the hell I am in London. I’d love to take the credit, but Citymapper, this one is down to you.

I have now also learnt, that when one drives in London, one must be an ass. Force yourself out of every junction (whether there is space or not), ignore pedestrian crossings, ignore pedestrians in general, and toot your horn if in doubt. I have also learnt, that when one drives in London, just don’t.

For some reason, which makes no logical sense at all, I think of it as a very London thing to eat sushi. All the bloody time. This week my colleagues persuaded me to try itĀ (so I’m trendy and all) and it’s still a big fat no from me. Why I thought I would suddenly like sushi, just because I wanted to like sushi, I’m not quite sure. Give me a katsu curry any day, but don’t expect to see me eating a spicy tuna roll any time soon. Sorry London.

Skinny bitch my arse

So London and me are getting on like a house on fire. I finally feel like I don’t stick out like a sore thumb – although can anyone stick out in London?! And I’m looking forward to a bit more time living here.

Don’t get me wrong though, still dreaming of sandy beaches, snowy mountains, and waking up to views like this…. Will I ever move on?!





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