The Great Debate of Our Age; Working as a Waitress- London vs. Copenhagen

Let me preface this by saying; this is the last time I will work as a waitress. I'm 24, enough now.

Since coming to Denmark, I've been re-evaluating my entire life about 5 times per week day. I'm just your typical recent graduate, mid-20s looming, searching for a purpose, or at least a solution to pay the rent on time. I can't keep resorting to waitressing jobs as I stave off the reality staring me in the face: I should get a real job.

I don't mean to brag, but nobody works the casual end of the labour market like I do. It's not exactly a choice, or even the best choice for me, but with Irish and British economies how they are I've just gone with the flow and taken whatever work I can get.

Despite working my toosh off in college, I haven't managed to find a job related to my studies that suits my trajectory just yet, which kind of has something to do with why I'm in Denmark in the first place, taking a break and studying woodwork. I intend to start some voluntary work, get some 'real world' experience, but of course I need a paying job too.

In Denmark, if you don't speak Danish and aren't lucky enough to work in finance or business for a multi-national of some kind, the odds of getting a skilled job are slim. So many newcomers face months of unemployment and drained savings, or they just bite the bullet and get an unskilled job. I am no stranger to the latter, so I reluctantly figured some more of the same wouldn't hurt me.

I want to talk a bit about working in hospitality in Copenhagen, and how it differs from London, where I have the bulk of my waitering experience. Basically, London and Copenhagen are on opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to casual, or, as I like to call it, 'precarious' work. The minimum you can expect to be paid for a simple catering or waitering job can be as much as twice what you can hope to earn in London.

In London it is usual to lose a large proportion of tips to the TRONC system, which is an accounting system for taking that sneaky service charge (12.5% is standard on bills in London, watch out), siphoning off huge chunks of it, heavily taxing it, and cheekily presenting it to you as adequate compensation for 14 hour shifts and working every Sunday of the God-given year. In restaurants in Copenhagen tips are usually distributed amongst all staff evenly. Management, accountants and random HR personnel do not take a cut.

Labour legislation is a lot more stringent, and there is a mentality of fairness, cooperation and straight-forwardness that permeates work here. In London you will most certainly get called in to work at 6pm on a Friday evening, made to suffer with double weekend shifts for a month if you request a weekend day off, and face uncertain death if you call in sick because you are legitimately sick.

The 'Zero hour contract', fiddling you out of holiday pay, sly additions to your contract that are unfair and disempower the worker, the non-existence of unions, all commonplace in London. Life is certainly easier for the humble waiter in Copenhagen.

I know I've been slightly tongue in cheek here, but if I have to work evenings and weekends, I want to be doing something I enjoy. I'm fortunate enough to know these jobs are only a temporary stop for me, but for many, hospitality is their forever-job, the end of the job hunt. And it's no lie that waiters are some of the lowest earners in the formal labour market.

It is important to work in an environment where you get respect, have pride in your job, and, most important of all, get paid a reasonable, comfortably livable wage. For that reason, I am so glad that if I have to wait tables right now, I get to do it in Denmark. I'd like to say 'long may it last', but to be honest I'm really looking forward to getting out of the industry, into one with no apron included.

Three Months, 12 Weeks, or 133,920 minutes (approximately)

This week marked the three month-iversary of our arrival in Denmark. I thought, since I'm going back to London for the weekend and I have a few free hours until we leave for the airport, that I'd do a bit of a recap on how the move has been so far.

Weather

The weather, the rain, the occasional lovely days, the consistent wind, are pretty much as expected. When we first arrived I was absolutely chilled all of the time, but wool tights under trousers and water proof clothes make the difference.

The winter is generally colder and a lot snowier than Ireland or London, and that was a bit of a surprise (that snow storm in March was, too), but I mean, it's Europe, you won't get harsh extremes of either hot or cold, and that's why I like it so much. My pasty skin and inability to get warm need moderation.

Transport

I cycle everywhere. I got a nice bike, and we have a couple of spare cheap bikes too, so we're always sorted. I usually only lock my bike with the flimsy lock on the back wheel, and I use lights at night so the police don't fine me 1000dk.

There are cycle lanes everywhere in this country (well, in Zealand anyway), including one that is rumoured to go all the way from Copenhagen to Roskilde. There were perfect cycle lanes in random countryside areas on our way to the ferry, and everyone, toddlers to the elderly, cycle everywhere in this city.

I love cycling, I think it's great exercise, great for concentration and it's so very free, that I'm chuffed how easy it is to do it. If you do need to take a train or bus for some crazy reason, they're reasonably priced, very clean, very new, and also a lovely experience.

Culture

Danes seem to be a lovely bunch of people. They generally smile at you on the street, are courteous, and are always trying to chat to me (and I am always awkwardly apologising for not speaking Danish). Unfortunately living and studying with your partner is the ultimate deterrent for making friends, and I haven't had much expose to non school friend Danes, so so far I haven't made friends with any other than the ones in my class, and it's an English speaking class.

I was surprised, and possibly the thing I'm most disappointed in, is the lack of 'lagom'. I expected this concept to be as pervasive as I felt it was in Sweden. Instead, there is a finely gradiented, but noticeable and irrefutable class structure. I was also very suprised by the, well, heteronormativity, of this capital city.

I haven't seen many gay couples, or indeed, any non-traditional couples at all really, and this makes me a bit concerned. If I was to stay here, and settle, would I really want my child to one day grow up thinking 'normal' is straight, married or paired off, with at least one baby in tow?

Generally, though, the culture here is very pleasant. People are polite, services are organised and orderly, and business get back to you efficiently with a concise answer. I like it.

Money

Denmark is very expensive. A latte is 30k, that's twice what you might expect to pay in Dublin, and almost twice what you might pay in many places in London. Taxes are very high, and jobs for non-Danes are hard to attain.

On the plus side, you have very high basic wages, and excellent subsidies for students, parents, and every category of citizen imaginable. To come on holidays, yes, it is expensive, but for the relative quality of life, I think living here is affordable. You just might have to lay off the lattes like I did.

Language

I'm 5 weeks into my Danske classes, and I have just one thing to say about the Danish language:

In its' written form; makes sense, pronunciation and speaking to be understood; forget about it kid!

I don't know if I'll be able to hold a conversation any time soon, or ever actually be able to speak the damn language. I don't know if I'll need to in order to live here. All I know is, the fact that chokolade is pronounced 'choco-lale' is enough for me to run away and hide.


So there you have it, a recap on my major impressions of living in Copenhagen so far. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to make an omlette with some wild garlic we collected from the park today. Hej hej!

An unrelated image of the lake I sit by when I need a time out in school

Long Time Passing

I know, I know, the blog posts are coming few and far between these days. The truth is, it takes such a long time to put a post together, and a lot of the time I'd rather be playing my flute or reading than sitting at the computer. That being said, this is my only written record of what I'm up to over here, so I have to keep up with it.

I've just finished my Monday joinery class. We cut wood to start a project, of which I shall explain more later. I had the best weekend; my friends from home visited, and I haven't giggled (or been thrown about by the wind) so much in months. It was the coldest weekend, because of the wind chill, that I've endured since moving here, for sure. I think we need to work backwards to go forwards, so I'll start where I left off, and update you on last week before going on about this weekend.

Pedagogically, last week was not the best, and I was a little disheartened because of it. Our lessons were, at times, unstructured, and there was a lot of being left to our own devices, with too little wood and tools that were in need of a good sharpening. The problem is I want to spend absolutely days, if not weeks, practicing the one joint over and over, but because of the nature of the course that's just not possible. So instead it feels like we're racing through things, and it makes me a little sad/frustrated that I can't get the most out of my time.

I made a promise to myself to stop comparing my progression to others in the class, to just go at my own speed, and to try and make less mistakes. Lots of tiny mistakes lead to an overall mediocre finished product. This week has started so much better. I'm making a flute box as a project, so I got my dimensions planned today, practiced a dovetail joint (disaster, but hopefully tomorrow will be better), got some wood and learned how to use the saw and planing machines properly in a small group.

Outside the world of woodwork, last week was a bit of a mixed bag. My ballet class went very well and I'm noticing some improvements in my posture. Our budgetting is going swimmingly, and I love how little we're spending here. I finished reading Slaughterhouse-5, which is definitely the most enjoyable book I've read in a long time. Unfortunately, the job I thought I would definitely have didn't quite work out. The langauge barrier was too big of an issue, and so I have to look elsewhere for employent. I'm going to go to the local Irish bars, where it's presumed you're an English speaker.

So, onwards to this weekend I think, as my dinner is waiting for me downstairs. The girls were delayed by a couple of hours at Dublin airport, but no harm done, as I met up with a friend who goes back home from the airport every day. I also really enjoyed the buzz of the Arrivals hall. I love airports, so I was more than happy to sit nearby with a coffee and watch the kids wave Danish flags and wait for their dads to get home. I also had a Danish flag, and at the modest hour of 22.00, some two hours after their expected arrival, two of my best friends arrived at my new home.

We took a train back to my apartment, giggling and joking the whole time. I don't think I've laughed so much in a long time. We took in the usual sights, the Little Mermaid and Hans Christian Andersen on his self-named street. We also ate a lot of cake, had delicious brunch, and went to a decidedly Twin Peaks-y karaoke bar. I couldn't believe how quickly the weekend flew by, but luckily just four days ago I booked flights home for Easter, a glorious 8 day trip. I am honestly so excited to go home and see all of my friends and family.

Ok, I'm going to wrap it up here, I'm off to eat some dinner before getting down to some future life planning I have to do. I'll post some pictures soon.

This Week

It's the weekend, and the end of my third week of carpentry. This week, myself and one other guy made a bench to go at a table we're going to put in our workshop to eat lunch at. I'll post pictures and descriptions at another time.

I brought my bike to to the shop I bought it from, and experienced some ingrained sexism on the part of the shop guy. It gets really old, and I expected better from Denmark, but I guess that was too much to ask of the bike world.

It's finally stopped snowing (actually, I slightly take that back since I wrote this yesterday, it snowed a bit lat night and it's sleeting big time now) so when I wake up there isn't a thick blanket of snow covering the streets. It's getting easier to cycle to school, getting warmer overall, and some little flowers are peeking their heads out of the ground in anticipation of Spring.

Leo found one of the teachers making sourdough and a lamb stew out here. Amazing.

I made a tiny bunting

Did you know you can simply buy chamomile flowers which costs about 1/10 of when it comes in tea bag form? Life-altering realitsation

Leo and August with the table. Next to follow-pictures of the bench I made

This weekend was spent lounging, cycling, talking to my new boss about my new job, eating, and going to a lovely cinema to see The Master. What a strange, strange film. The cinema was beautiful, very art deco with black and white tiled floors. We got a coffee and cookie before, the seats were very comfortable, the whole experience was incredibly hygge.

This morning I discussed Christmas with Leo, and how much I love it, as a concept and in actuality. He told me I was being immature and that Christmas is a commodified joke. I told him I don't care. In protest I'm going to watch Elf later on and think about cinammon and nutmeg. I will not be censored.

Life is good, but it's once again time to reassess everything, and I'm thinking that I need to start planning what to do once this short course is over (it's only 6-7 months, and we're starting the 4th week). I need to plan a potential apprenticeship, an area to relocate to, lots of stuff to be thinking about.

A Job

I always seem to land on my feet in terms of getting jobs of one kind or another. Maybe it's because I wasn't fussy when I was younger. Work is work, and I've done cleaning jobs, I've driven a rickshaw and I worked three different jobs the Christmas of my second year of college. I have the kind of mind and personality where I like to be busy. I usually have dance classes, some sort of music related activity, school and work on the go.

So, since I moved here three weeks ago, I figured it was about time I maximised my productivity, since we actually have so little class to go to. Ballet classes-check. Copious amounts of flute playing and session searching-check (would be nice if the pubs still existed though). Job-well, now it's a check in that regard too.

I sent out two emails in my 'Great Search For Employment'. Out of those two emails, I now have one job. It's lucky that I've worked in such a myriad of jobs, because now when people read my cv they're willing to give me a go and know that, without too much worry or training, I will probably be able to do a good job straight away. And this is exactly how things worked out.

I had been emailing the manager of a venue to discuss coming in to see about a job, when, out of the blue yesterday I received an email saying that some of his staff were sick and he really needed someone to work, and would I mind coming in. Well, yeah, sure I don't mind. So I cycled over to this venue a few hours later, and just started working.

It was certainly sudden but bar work is bar work and aside from cocktails (not yet) I'm pretty experienced at every aspect of working in a bar. It would just be me and two other guys manning the bar, running food, washing glasses and doing kitchen porter duties. No pressure. I jumped right into it and the only aspect I found hard was ringing things in in the till and cashing things off. I'm used to macros, super up to date sleek software. This machine was from the stone age. I still don't know how to use it.

Obviously I don't have more than about 5 words of Danish yet, so this was a bit...daunting rather than difficult. People were willing to speak English to me, and I even had some initially reluctant middle aged men regaling me with tales of reading books about the Irish famine and how much they loved Ireland within a couple of hours. The Danes are very polite, trusting and generally accommodating, and because it's a bar, you're free to banter and be a little sassy, so not speaking the language is not so much rude (as it might be in any other customer service environment), but can actually be turned into a talking point.

That being said, I can't wait to learn some conversational Danish so I can get through exchanges simply and not stick out like a sore thumb. So, I suppose I have a job now. I don't want to work too much, because my costs are quite low right now and the rate of pay in Denmark is pretty good. But I need to pay rent, save something and generally be autonomous. And, it wasn't that hard to actually get a job at all. Things are looking up for me.

Feels Like I'm Not Going Home

 

Today was a bit of a homesick day. I missed the feel of walking in the door and being greeted by my cats and my dog and putting on the kettle, making tea, sitting down and going through the newspaper supplements my Dad always kept for me. I missed the closeness, the familiarity, knowing where I am, where I'm going.

Sometimes I envy those still at home, those that have never moved and never had to say goodbye after a flying two day visit. To never have to arrange Christmas, birthdays, holidays months in advance, to drive a few miles down the road to see friends and family. To know right outside your window the world is as it's been your whole life, with no surprises. Just home.

And then I think to myself, what's the use? What's the use in living in this half-way world, between memories, nostalgia and the reality of the present. I'm here now, and here's where I should be. I chose to move, and then to move again, to a rather strange place where the alphabet sounds all wrong and they never rush. It isn't so bad being away from home, in fact it's pretty nice and it makes the memories sweeter still.

All there is to do, once the bout of homesickness is dispensed with, is to book a flight home and look forward to sitting in my kitchen with Napoleon trying to steal my breakfast again.

Snowy Saturday

It's my first real weekend day off in what feels like absolutely months, where I have nothing to plan, I amn't feeling guilty about taking time off work, and Leo isn't sitting at home on his lonesome like a big saddo. It's been snowing non-stop all morning, and I had perhaps the healthiest breakfast of my life.

Naturally, I have a cold. The shift in temperature from London's mild weather, and long walks to school early in the morning has messed with me a bit. I always get this viral chest infection, I hope what I have now doesn't turn into it.  I just want to sleep and stay in my really toasty room, but I want to make the most of my first weekend here so I'm going out cycling on my brand new shiny beautiful bike and later I'm going to listen to some folk music.

I've been listening to Kingdom a lot since I got here. Heathers are such a good...band(?), duo(?). Saw their first proper gig and it's amazing how much they've progressed.

I've got some Heinz tomato soup and lots of coffee to get me through the next couple of hours. It would be nice to be asleep. Good day to you.

In Which I Chisel Things

Here's a picture to give you an idea of the environment I've been learning/working in. We've been split into groups to design and build something to sit on, so my group is making a star-shaped chair. I'm glad everyone is getting on and just getting it done. I feel a bit useless because I haven't done any technical drawing before and I'm a little out of my depth in that respect, but carrying wood about and chiseling stuff is the most fun.
I'll post more substantially when I have something substantial to show.

And there's a picture of the lad. Sher didn't he only go and quit his job and start this course, what a guy!

Back to School

It feels nice rather than strange to be back at school. it's especially nice that I'm at a technical college, the equivalent of a PLC college in Ireland, as my own education thus far has been completely academic, mostly in buildings that take themselves and their history very seriously.

In case I didn't make it clear as to why I'm in Denmark, I'm doing a course in Carpentry and Design at Kobenhavs Tekniske Scole. It's a 6 month introduction to the basic principles of carpentry, joinery and design. So far it's going very well, but I'll make a separate post about the course content, I want this to just be about my acclimatisation in Denmark.

Sadly without bikes, we've been walking the 4 or so miles to the college daily. It's getting tiresome, walking is irritating when you know biking would take a third of the time, but the walk along frozen lakes in the snow is very pleasant.

Our first day of 'school' (funny going back, funnier for Leo who has worked at a bank for a few years) was very laid back, we just did some short introductions, drank coffee and got basic course materials. Then Leo and I had to run off to an administrative office in some unknown part of town to register in 'The System'.

As anyone who arrives here for an extended stay will work out, you can do nothing without a CPR number. As European Union citizens arriving here is fairly simple-you get a residency permit and after filling out a form they process you and issue you with a number. This number entitles you to open a bank account, join a library, get a mobile phone contract. But until then, you're stuck in limbo. I'm hoping my number comes next week.

Lessons Fergie Taught Me About Life #1

After a particularly disappointing dinner at the canteen the accommodation you're staying in provides, it's important to keep it together. You're not a little kid anymore. You're a grown up now, a blossoming young woman, and you must accept the generic chicken-flavoured rubber with grace.

It's times like this I turn to Fergie, of The Black Eyed Peas. Despite what you might think, she's a fountain of heartfelt wisdom, pens some decent songs, and should be your go-to gal when you need a cracking good song to help you from crying into the stodgy boiled rice.

It's also important to go to the shop and buy yourself some cake because you're a grown up now and can make these flippant economic decisions.

Copenhagen: The First Sunday

I'm on Day 4 of my new adventure of living in Copenhagen, and so far I'm having a jolly good time. I have a journal that I usually write in fairly regularly, at least when exciting things happen, but I've decided to just jot down briefly here what I've been up to, as it's about 20 gazillion times faster to type than it is to write. I'm going to go backwards in time and begin at the beginning.

Sunday


Checking out of one's hotel is made difficult when one must drag one's entire life down two flights of winding stairs, due to all the lazy weekenders hogging the lifts. But you must let it wash over you. Check out we eventually did. We then explored a small bit of Copenhagen. I was glad to see most of the shops and restaurants were shut. As a hospitality worker, I appreciate Denmark's commitment to giving at least some of  the hardest working, precariously employed and poorly paid workers a break.

Gladly, however, Cafe Paludan was open for business, and we indulged in the largest omelettes (I swear, at least five eggs) of our short lives. Better still, the place is not only a cafe with delicious coffee, but a book shop, library and study hall. The international students talking loudly to hide their awkwardness (I feel your pain) were the only distraction. We spent a couple of lovely hours there, then headed further afield.

Due to the Sunday-ness of the day, our search for bicycle shops, bedding stores and really any shop we needed to set us up for our new life was lacking. We whiled away a few hours and wandered through the swankier part of town. As soon as the clock struck 16:00 we headed off to our accommodation to unpack and get ready for, you know, beginning a carpentry course the next day.

So essentially we're living in dormitories, where food is provided, the rooms are nicely heated and there is even a sauna. The monthly rent is VERY reasonable. The food is shockingly bad, the coffee tastes perpetually burnt, but lucky for me I have a coffee perculator and a bag of Bewley's Panama roast, as well as lots of nice things to eat in my room (I mean pickles, berries and mackerel, I need to get my nutrition somewhere). 

The pictures below are an indication of the average-ish view from our window, in rain and in snow. As you can see, it is not amazing, but it's far from terrible, and for the price I am more than happy to spend the next few months here while my earning capacity is stunted.

Unpacking complete, we settled into our first night in our new home. Failing to turn off the radiator (faulty knob), it was absolutely sweltering hot. A good time was had by all.

Copenhagen: The Arrival

Our last night in London was spent at Leo's friend's apartment with some of his friends. The apartment itself was one of the most surprising I've been in in memory, it was in a dodgy block of flats, but inside the walls were lined with books. The banter was at times decidedly 'political' and I just kept my mouth shut for about an hour straight. I've become so moderate in my old age. I did have a really nice night though, and we decided that it probably made sense to just stay up all night.

Naturally, I couldn't hack it, and had the most intense 1 hour power nap of my life, emerging from my cocoon fresh and ready to go at 5am. Actually, I felt like absolute trash, but it's my blog and I'll colour the past whatever shade I like. The taxi driver didn't actually know how to get to Gatwick, but we got to the airport, managed to root through our bags to get rid of the excess materials and generally faff with about half an hour to spare. Norwegian quality airline that take credit cards, and Euro.

It wasn't the world's greatest breakfast, but it was a damn sight better than Ryanair food

What else do you need? A wave of relief spread over me as we left London behind. I don't mean to sound unappreciative for the opportunities that London gave me, but it tired me out and frustrated me in many ways. It was time to move on.

A Poignant 'This is Goodbye' shot

Getting to our hostel was pretty tricky considering we didn't have Kroner and couldn't seem to find a taxi rank outside Nørreport station. Thus we embarked upon the most challenging event of the past few days, dragging the contents of our little lives two miles. One of the wheels had fallen off a suitcase. It was not fun. About an hour later we arrived.

The rest of the day was a haze. That hour sleep was long forgotten, and after eating a really average burger and buying bed sheets that turned out to be for small children (Copenhagen prices, if it seems too good to be true, it is), we crashed. And with that, we had successfully made the move, several hundred miles, one timezone away, to a country with unpronouncable words and the nicest trains in the world. And I can safely say I am very happy to be here.

The Beginning of the End

It's finally here, our last week in London.

The digital luggage weigh-er has arrived,and basically all that's left to do is pack and then go!

Yesterday was a bit of a weird day, in the sense that it lasted for about 47 hours. In the morning we got up early after too-little sleep (working Saturday nights is something I do not enjoy) and met my friends Bob and Lydia at Workshop, a great coffee and food place in Clerkenwell. I had so much coffee I had the 'hovering above my body' feeling for a good 40 minutes after until it placed me back down on the ground and I felt a little tired. We saw this cool car on our decidedly spring-time walk after, there was a faded box of tissues and an old umbrella on the back window that looked like they had been there since the car was new.

I then had to go to work, where, three hours in, I got randomly bitten on the leg by a small dog. It bit through my jeans and made a horrible circular toothy mark that was bleeding, so I decided, after much deliberation, to do the right thing and get a tetanus shot. I got a taxi to Whitechapel Hospital and it was pretty cool to see London over ground, by car, for once.

After three hours waiting, no headphones, no phone signal, a lot of solitaire and a man 'as a meabhair' throwing obscenities at the ladies in the waiting room, I simply got a tetanus booster and a box of generic antibiotics (I won't take them but didn't say anything at the time so as to not kick up a fuss. We know how the NHS are). Probably needless, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

ON ANOTHER NOTE, as I was standing around the entrance of the pub waiting to get in a taxi, who should appear for dinner but Prince Harry and a similarly balding, fair headed chum? Oh the excitement of it all.

Ok, I'm off to do stuff. Namely, weigh my luggage.

Peace.

Attention All Pickpockets

I'm having a truly lazy Friday. This song is without a doubt one of my favourite Mountain Goats songs, but with a band like them, how can you have any less than 19 favourite songs? They're just amazing.

I'm also reading a lecture paper on welfare state politics that I found on this blog . He is a friend of my boyfriend's, and there's a lot you'll learn when you lurk your boyfriend's Facebook (we aren't friends on the auld FB, so I have a rummage around his page every now and then, no regrets). Welfare state politics, economics and social policies are my lifeblood.

I'm going to make some cooley (a little-used white fish) and ratatouille for dinner, then I'm going out, as the lady we live with has relatives coming over, and our bedroom has no heating in it.

Ciao.

Just Face It

So I'm going to be frank with you, internet. I've had adult acne since I hit the old 2-0, 4 years ago. Until recently I had failed, in an absolute sense, to deal with it. The uprooting of my hormonal stability was a real shock to me.
 
Since then, I've gone through several phases. Apathetic 'I don't care less' mode; frantic 'trying every product under the sun and burning my skin with harsh products' mode, angry 'I can't believe I'm now an adult and starting to get acne' mode, and the stage I am at now, where my anger has plateaud and I've tried to combat the little devils by improving my diet (and that's another store entirely) and decreasing the amount of 'products' I use on my skin. Since I've taken a hands-on approach to what goes into my body, what goes onto my skin is just as important, is it not?

In the past the Vichy Normaderm range was a bit of a lifesaver, it cleared things up nicely and I was feeling more confident in my skin (second pun of the post, nice one Amy). But Vichy products are expensive. In fact, all cosmetics are ridiculously expensive, and I'm trying to downsize my consumer side all the time. I don't even hugely mind dropping the cash for their products, but I hate the idea of relying on a combination of obscure chemicals to make me feel ok about my skin.

I've almost stopped buying cosmetics altogether (except for lip balm, but I'm going to start making my own very soon) and instead use things I can find in my kitchen to do the things we need to make us clean and feel nice. One method I have for using up left over kitchen bits and giving my skin a bit of a treat.

While in the past I would have dropped a small fortune on something that left my skin raw and red and irritated for the sake of 'treating' it to a facemask, now I just whip up a little something from my kitchen that actually serves a purpose other than sheer decadence, and makes me feel good too.

Tonight I made a face mask using:

A tiny chunk of really ripe avocado
A squeeze of lemon juice
Two tsps of coconut cream
A tsp of coconut oil

I mixed it all into a mulshy/paste, washed my face using a really hot cloth and popped it on. 15 minutes later I rinsed it off using hot water, then rinsed with cold water to close my pores. Later on I'm going to moisturise with coconut oil warmed in the palm of my hand, with some vitamin E oil mixed in.

I've learned to give my skin a break, that overloading it with products won't do you any favour in the short term or long run. Instead, I'm slowly improving my health and hoping that as time goes on my hormones will balance and I will begin to look like the adult I (think I) am.

The End of January

Well, January is almost over, and here's a few things that have been filling my time lately:

I've been enjoying, like everyone else in London, the snow and cold over the last week. The prospect of snow enlivens the school child in me. The prospect of a day off is just too much to handle. I think it's amazing how a touch of cold turns every grown-up into a 9 year old. People need to learn to let go of themselves more.

I don't have a 'job' job as such anymore (my life is slowly disintegrating around me), so I work a bit here and there at one or both of my jobs. Although I'm not earning as much as I want to be, I'm enjoying the whole days off and (even!) evenings free.

In my free time I'm packing my life up, getting estimates for shipping (turns out it's not cost effective to ship books which have only sentimental value), cooking delicious rhubarb and ginger treats, and making soap. My latest soap is pretty lovely if I do say so myself. I made it by smashing up my charcoal tablets into powder and mixing it with cinammon, almond oil and coconut oil for a moisturising, cleansing, sweet-smelling soap.

I have 9 days left in London, and then we're flying away, to Copenhagen to begin the next chapter. I'm making the most of it while I'm here. I'm going to have to go to Allpress at least five times before next week.

One thing I won't be missing is the coldness of Londoners, especially on the Tube. It wears me down. I was made for banter and smiling at strangers, not cold stares and not moving down the carriage and making use of all available space.

All pictures, as always, courtesy of Leo and his point and shoot.

Just Saying : Introspection on Friday Evening

'The flood of tea and excuses, and I'm just drowning in all the charm and bollox'

This film makes me cry just a little every time. I know it's clíched, and I know the grass is always greener, but it's beautifully shot, the script is great, and it just tugs at your heartstrings in all the right ways. I would recommend watching it five million times.

I feel homesick a lot and it's often hard to think about everyone at home getting on without me. I love Ireland and I wish that things were better there, that the politics was a little less conservative, the opportunities a little wider in scope, the Church a little less respected.

The things I adore when I go back are the things I got jaded by when I stayed there too long, and I have to keep reminding myself that. Films like this make you feel sad and melancholic, but you just have to keep reminding yourself that the Ireland of your dreams and the O'Connell Street in this video aren't real. They're tricks your mind plays on you to make you question yourself, your choices, your path.

O'Connell Street has never looked this perfect in reality, and it never will. It's filled with angry bus drivers, junkies scabbing Euros and Penneys bags. There isn't anything wrong with that, but it's hardly worth missing fondly.

Literally, thinking about all of this, home and here and family and all the friends I don't have in London, I'm balling my eyes out. It always comes back to me wondering if I'd be happier if I was there, even though I am really happy now. If I could, I would be in two places at once, always up for trips to Eddie Rockets and the cinema and hanging out singing songs, and here, living my 'real' life, whatever that is.

Things are going to change a lot when I move to Denmark, and I hope that, if anything, I stop feeling so homesick.

Monday Monday Monday

Today has been absolutely wonderful. I've been sitting in Christmas pajamas since I got up at 12pm, been doing general life admin stuff like selling my old phones that don't work anymore, emailing people that I've been putting off for ages, and playing my flute. I have to go to work at 6pm, but we can't have everything in life, can we.

In fact, here's a little sample of my favourite tune of last year, an O'Carolan piece called Carolan's Draught. Hope you enjoy.

https://soundcloud.com/myfavouritechords/ocarolans-draught


Amy

On Doing Bad Jobs For No Money

If you were sitting where I am sitting right now you would hear two things; Panic! At the Disco playing quietly from some speakers on the desk, and the rain slapping liberally on the concrete outside. It's Sunday, and I'm working the 12-21 shift, for about £8.50 per hour. I'm 23, I have a Masters. I'm intelligent, amicable and competent at most things I attempt. At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

Despite being a fairly successful human being, I'm in danger of getting stuck in this rut, the rut I call the 'post-University job trap'. I've worked since the age of 17. From that first terrible job in Super Valu, I've worked non-stop since, often holding down as many as three jobs, while studying. Admittedly, studying Sociology isn't as taxing as one might be led to believe, but I've worked hard, and I've negotiated the labour market like some sort of caffeine-pumped ninja.

I've worked in some good jobs, mostly bad jobs, and almost all mediocre paying jobs. I've never expected anything set in stone, regular, particularly reasonably paid or progressive, because it was always 'just' a job for money while I studied. But now I've finished studying and I find myself trapped in one of these 'just' a job jobs.

Living in London is pricey. There's rent which instantly eats up approximately 1/3 of your income. Food is as over-priced as it is over-fertilised. Public transport is a cruel joke. Lucky for me I'm well adapted to living cheaply. I cycle everywhere, don't drink alcohol (not because I want to save money, it's just a happy coincidence) and don't spend money on superfluous items of clothing that fall apart after three washes.

I might be frugal, but that's not solely the point. The issue is more of credibility than of money, although it would of course be nice to have a higher salary. I have a loan to pay back, and I need to start paying it back now. I don't want to be always denying myself things because I don't earn enough, because heaven knows I work enough.

I'm becoming disillusioned with my own choices as much as the miniscule size of my paycheck. Eventually, after making excuses for 5 years that 'it's just a job', the question needs to be asked why I don't strive for more than that. With the education I have, I shouldn't be doing this job, in a company that is so disorganised and mismanaged that i regularly want to pull my hair out when dealing with its bureaucracy.

I have ever so much to say on the topic of Doing Bad Jobs For No Money, and I don't expect this will be the last time I'll broach the topic. But I don't want to generalise about my past work experiences. I rather am trying to formulate some sort of mentality whereby I psyche myself up to hand in a letter (email) of resignation, find new, better prospects, and settle into something reliable (however temporary, but why that will be is another story for another day).

I'm trying so hard to convince myself to 'just go for it' but the prospect of being unemployed, or of going back into another mediocre job, is scary. There's a lot of things I want to be, and this isn't one of them. I'm wasting my life doing something I hate. I have so many plans, and I'm not going to realise a single one of them if I never make enough money to save, or have enough free time to plan them.

I'm going to spend the last half-hour of work trying to compose a sensible yet firm email, and hopefully I will have resigned by tomorrow morning.

New Beginnings

I've been in full-time education since the age of 5. Tomorrow, I'm going to be handing in my Postgraduate dissertation. This is the closest to freedom I've ever been. It feels strange, to know I won't have the obligation to attend classes, hand in papers, or, really do anything. I can think about what I really want, and save some money in the meantime.

This is a record of my attempt to see everything, eat a lot, try to be free. I'm tired of being tied to things. Since I was 18, I've never had less than 2/3 jobs on the go, while studying full time. One does get terribly tired, you know.

I want to feel just like this little ducky. Swim free, little duck. Swim free.

A Duck | The River Thames, London | August 2012