What a year of milestones this is. Firstly I’ll be celebrating 4 years of living in London at the end of this month – where has the time gone? Then… and I will mention this only once then you have to erase this information from your minds… I have to ‘celebrate’ 30 years of life. I’m going to be one of those women who I used to take pity on as a sprucey young lass. You know, the ones who can’t handle turning the big three-oh and desperately try to cling onto their youth. Look at that – I referred to myself as a woman. Not a girl, or young lady. Dear God it’s already happening.
As you can imagine, I’m coping a little better with the first milestone, not so much the second. I also just came to the realisation that I’ll have to update my bio on the blog – no longer the stories of a twenty something year old in London. WHO EVEN AM I?!!!!?!!
It’s fine. I’m totally fine. It’ll be great.
Incoming: Rachael breakdown moment from Friends. I’m even reliving Rachael’s life with the younger boyfriend – some say dating someone younger keeps you young. False. It reminds you how glaringly old you sound when you need to ask wtf ‘IMHO’ means, or find yourself saying things like ‘tekkers’. Anyway, it’s best not to ever mention again.
Wait, this was meant to be a post about 4 years in London? Right, slight digression.
If someone asked me to summarise 4 years of living in London in numbers, because that seems like the most obvious and logical conversation to have, it would go something like this:
- 1,546,567 hours worked, or how it feels at least
- 1,461 – days living in London
- 1,450 – days using google maps/Citymapper to find my way home (I’ve spent at least 11 full days not leaving the house at all)
- 846 – glasses of wine consumed, maybe.
- 80 – pounds that I’ve saved (because you always need a rainy day back up plan)
- 45 – holidays I’ve had since moving to London. That sounds crazy!
- 32 – foxes I’ve probably seen lurking around the streets at night
- 28 – people who’ve told me I don’t sound Australian (sad face for being such a floozy with my accent)
- 26 – new cities I’ve discovered (my goal each year is to visit at least 5 new cities/countries so I’m tracking well for that, phew)
- 25 – years old when I first moved to London
- 13 – new cities that I’ve visited in the UK (integration)
- 8 – times that I’ve felt reallllly homesick
- 7 – times that I’ve visited Paris since moving
- 5 – friends from Australia who have visited me in London. Seriously guys, pull your shit together. Love you. ?
- 5 – gyms joined. Not all at once. Only actually used 2 of them. [Deep sigh]
- 4 – years I’ve spent living in London. Seriously – where has the time gone? What have I done with my life? Why am I turning 30??! wfdhs*telrtf!!!
- 4 – theatre shows I’ve been to
- 4 – number of times I’ve promised to go to more theatre shows after being to the theatre. I’d like to see you try & do better!
- 3 – new languages I’ve tried to learn
- 3 – weddings I’ve attended abroad
- 3 – houses/flats I’ve lived in
- 2 – times I’ve been back to Australia (terrible effort but it’s really bloody far)
- 2 – jobs I’ve had, 2 years at each (both equally great, obvs – hi guys if you’re reading?)
- 1 – new family member gained when my sister got engaged ?
- 0.03 – new languages I’ve actually learnt (Duolingo says I’m now 3% fluent in Spanish. It then prompts me to share that as a skill on my Linked In profile. Should I do it?)
- 0 – times that I’ve regretted moving to London (despite the 15 times I’ve threatened to leave)
So. That’s my life in 4 years, wrapped up in a satisfying sequence of descending numbers.
**Disclaimer: Some numbers are estimations only. I don’t actually count foxes, or glasses of wine. Maybe I should start doing both.
Reflecting is always fun yet slightly terrifying. Looking back on what I’ve done, sometimes it feels like not a huge amount of things have really happened, just goes to show how damn quickly time flies. But when I remember life back in Melbourne, actually, I’m a completely different person to who I was when I first moved. My darling blog posts are testiment to that – like that time I thought I knew everything after just 1 month in London, or when I was completely freaking out over the potential of not having access to Milo amongst everything else in the UK.
Actually, don’t read those. Much too embarrassing. It’s like having a published public version of your family photo album from 1993 when you’re wearing your best tri-coloured leggings with elastic straps at the bottom with your clashing XXL t-shirt pulled over the top. It’s not ideal but I’m keeping it up for giggles and more importantly so we can all learn a lesson.
All I know is I’m excited to see what the next 4 years bring. That, and I really don’t want to have my birthday. So cheers to that!