Go west young Jane

Ooohhhh I meant to blog last Sunday I really did but its been a bit of a busy week this one.
It started last Thursday, despite the insistence of every western calendar. Last week in and of itself started somewhat anxiously with me waiting to hear back from the Sky people to find out if I got that job, which I did. Then continued with me going to see various flat shares which made me more disconsolate with each subsequent viewing. Travellers tip, it is very difficult to live within walking distance of Chelsea unless you are an heiress of some kind. With my birthday fast approaching I decided to give it all away for a little bit to have a break and relax. After seeing an endless procession of flats that were only fit to hang yourself in I felt the need to proceed to the sea.

I grew up with the sea at the end of my street so in times of tiredness or stress, I cant tell you why, but I just need to go to the sea. A river wont do it, nor will a swimming pool. It must be the sea, salty and wavy, with or without sand. I don't even have to get in it. I just need to smell it, and look at it and I feel better. So off I went to Newcastle, gave me a chance to see my Aunty before work sucked up all my time. Caught the train this time as well after getting some very cheap tickets on the net. Had a small argument with the underground. It was our first fight which always makes it seem more significant than it really is. It started when I got on the northern line from London Bridge. The DLR had been cancelled so murders of stockbrokers (I have decided that is their collective noun) were crowding themselves into the northern line which I incidentally needed to catch so that I could get to Kings Cross. Melbourne, you do not know what you are complaining about. I have to put my hand up to this too. I complained about the trams and trains in Melbourne, and they are sucky, but I was literally swept on to this train. Had I of not wanted to get on this train I would have had no choice in the matter, the mob made my decision for me. If my phone was ringing I could not have answered it because I could not move my arms. Packed. The English are notoriously polite, you could run over one in a land cruiser and their response would be “I'm awfully sorry to bother you but you seem to have broken my legs”. But get the little fuckers underground when there are trains around and its a blood sport. I got elbowed by a pensioner. A Pensioner! Next time I see him I'm gonna break his hip. So it was crowded and I had bags with me and there was a pleasant female voice telling me to mind the gap and that there was a good service on the Northern and Jubilee lines. LIES I screamed, in my head of course, they tend not to take well to eccentricity on the tube now days. I had been lulled into a false sense of security by the Christmas and new year break. The tube and I had started a holiday romance, everything seemed fantastic and then when things returned to normal its true colours revealed themselves. I was angry, we almost broke up in fact. I was considering living in places that I'd only have to catch buses from. I did get to Kings Cross eventually though. Now I know where it is and how to get around it, it'll come in handy for the eventual trip to Paris. Here's a bonus, on National Express services they have free wifi. I surfed the net all the way up to Newcastle. Vline, take note.
Did some more revisiting of haunts from my younger days, a trip into North Shields which has only changed slightly and then Saturday it was down to Tynemouth. Tynemouth is, rather self evidently, the mouth of the Tyne river where it flows into the North Sea. The metro station is this slightly faded Victorian sea side holiday style, which reminds me somewhat of what I imagine Mrs Haversham's wedding cake to look like. When I arrived there they had a little market on. All the usual market fare except for these beautiful vintage clothes and when I say vintage I'm talking little boys sailor suits from somewhere around 1910 and flapper dresses. I so wanted to buy some but could at this point neither justify the price nor the suitcase space. I wandered down to the sea front after having a little walk around the village and soaked in the sight of the sea from the cliffs. Apart from the sea, my reason for going to Tynemouth was to see the ruins of the priory that's been there for about 800 years. I'm a bit of a sucker for some ruins and these were some gooduns. I walked in and paid my 3 pounds then walked through the door into the ruins themselves and was immediately struck by how silent it was in there. So close to Tynemouth Front Street but those walls really knocked back some sound. It was one of those beautiful cold but sunny days that happen here on occasion, which made the green grass seem so much greener and created odd shaped shadows through the crumbled walls and arches of the priory.
As I made my way through the ruins I came to a big oak door that was decorated with wrought iron embellishment. There were a couple of other people around who wandered up to the door had a bit of a look at it and then walked away. Me, I see a door and I want to know what's behind it. So I waited for the other visitors to wander away and then I slowly tried the handle expecting it to be locked. I heard a click and the door gave a little. I gave a anxious look around again like I was breaking into a safe and then snuck in to the most beautiful room I may have ever seen.
I had the strangest feeling when I walked in there though, it felt like I was coming into class late, like walking into a room full of people who were either in the middle of something very serious or were talking about you and then all of a sudden all eyes are on you. It used to be a Chantry and during the Napoleonic Wars, was used as an ammunition store. I should have taken much more photos than I did but I couldn't shake this feeling that I was interrupting something so I stood up the back taking pictures almost apologetically to an empty room.
I found a mark on the entrance way as well that I think might have been left by the master mason but I'm not entirely sure. I found some masonic graves out the back as well, well graves with the compass and square on them so I'm guessing they were masons. Another slightly odd thing I found while walking through the grave yard, right next to this big marble slab was a hole, about as wide and as deep as a human arm, and right next to this hole was a little bone. When I returned home and told my aunty about this she said “Why didn't you pick it up?” Um maybe, because its a bone and I was in a grave yard and I don't want to end up being haunted by zombie geordies.

So, that was my nice little birthday break, came back from the north on the Sunday, went to see a slightly weird flatshare in Wandsworth, well the flat was alright but the chick I would have been sharing with was weird. Then Monday, my actual birthday, I was out to Osterley to sign my contract with Sky, its nice to have a job in this time of recession but I cant shake the feeling that I've sold my freedom. Boo. But having a job will come in handy, there is the whole cash thing, and having a routine will give me a bit of structure and help me get to know London in a different way and I'll make friends as well so all that will be the upside. Oohh and my second bit of good news! Its been a lot of work finding somewhere nice to live, trying to decide what area to live in and how I'll get to work and what kind of place to live in. Places in London go notoriously quickly, I once received an email about a place and when I clicked on the links in the email to look at the ad, literally seconds after receiving it, it was gone. I don't know how that works. On Thursday, after much visiting of many crappy flatshares, I headed out west to Acton. I hadn't considered living out west before, in part because I was hoping to be within walking distance of work but considering its in Chelsea that was not really going to be a viable option at this point unless I was willing to live in a hovel. The other reason I hadn't considered it was because there are so many damn Australians out there and I felt like a cliché. But this place came up and it sounded fantastic, the pictures were beautiful and the house has an Aga which I've always dreamed of cooking on and a cat which I would never think of cooking either on or in. I got there about an hour early and had a walk around the high street which is ok, it has everything you need but its not flash or anything. First thing that struck me when I got off the train though was the sound of birds. You wouldn't think you were so close to London.
Made my way out to the house, which is a converted Coach House, and met with Jill who is the owner. We chatted for a couple of hours and she showed me around and the upshot of it all is that I'm moving in on Saturday. Hoorayyyyy! I've been so looking forward to unpacking my suitcase, I don't remember what's in there anymore. I haven't really gotten to unpack it since I moved out of Preston at the beginning of November. And its just in time for me to start the job on Monday so I can be all sorted and establish a new routine. I'll take some pictures for you once I get in there and you can see what its like. Now that I'll be based somewhere and working normal hours I can hopefully make sure that I get to blog every Sunday like I planned. Sorry I took so long.
Next time I can tell you about the fort I climbed the other day as well as the new house and job.
Lots of love.