Well hello. It’s been a while. Far too long, in fact, and that is bad. Although that’s just my silly brain telling me that it’s ‘bad’ if I don’t write a blog post in a couple of months. Instead, let’s say that it’s good that I’ve had a break. I’ve been quite busy, what with Christmas and New Year and work and revision and MOVING TO LONDON. Yep, I’ve finally fled the nest.
As many people made sure to remind me before the big day, moving to London probably won’t end up being as glamorous/bougie as one may have imagined. You probably won’t live in a cute Victorian terrace with a balcony, it’s unlikely that you’ll find that perfect market stall where you can buy your fruit and veg for half the price (and with half the packaging) as Sainsbury’s, and you might not immediately become the kind of person who sits in plant-adorned coffee shops on Saturday mornings reading a book (which you just bought from a charity shop) and drinking oat milk flat whites. Or maybe you will, but I can tell you that in my first week I’ve done none of those things.
Yes, I’ve had a goat’s cheese omelette and an oat milk Americano in one such plant-adorned café (bought by my parents when they moved me in), I’ve run home from work twice (only 5k) wearing my special new running backpack, and I’ve filled my room with enough plants, candles and fairy lights to make it look like something from Urban Outfitters Home. But, I’ve also bought veg from a supermarket, failed to so much as open my book whilst commuting to Herne Hill, watched an embarrassing number of episodes of Made in Chelsea, and actually feel more tired than when I was getting up at 6.15am for the 1 hour commute.
My bubble hasn’t been burst, because I’d kept my expectations firmly un-inflated, and I suppose there’s still time to find that fruit and veg stall, but I have to keep reminding myself that it’s okay not to be living as though I’m Hugh Grant in Notting Hill. And that’s the point, I suppose: all these idealistic expectations must come from somewhere, namely films, books, magazines and social media. Does anyone actually live like that? I think most people probably have a couple of idyllic components in their lives, which look great behind a filter, but pretty much no one lives Insta-worthily all the time.
I need to remember not to beat myself up for not having found a 6am yoga class to go to, for not seeing friends every night of the week, for not shopping at the zero-waste pop-up, and for not being organised enough to commute with a (reusable) coffee cup in hand. Now that I’ve moved out, my perfectionist tendencies are having a field day, because I’m now totally in control. But my new life doesn’t have to be perfect. Sometimes it’s okay to come home, pull on my bike-oil-stained trackies, cobble together a stir-fry using supermarket veg, crack open a Pepsi Max and achieve absolutely nothing else. Tonight, I’ve given in – I’ve done some revision and I’ve written a blog post, but I guess there’s always tomorrow.