kicking it old skool

After so much preparation and running around like a headless chicken doing all the last last minute stuff, sitting on the airport last Thursday afternoon was a surreal experience. I’ve been to airports so many times before, only every other time I’ve been on the other side of the fence (i.e. the rent-a-crowd that came through for the free pint at the International Departures Bar) My girlfriend missed the whole event though, as she was both hung-over from the previous evening’s red wine drinking fest and the reality of aforementioned pending flight hitting her square between the eyes. Lots of crying and shit later, I finally managed to drag her (by the collar) onto Flight SW265 to Windoek, Namibia.

Didn’t get to see much of Windhoek. What I did see through the portholes on the plane was quite lush, green and very beautiful. Which is much much more than I can say for the airport lounge… if you can call it that. It’s basically a room with kak, rock hard seats and a pane glass window separating you from the other aircraft taxing on the runway. So every time an airplane fires up, it funnels all that glorious sound straight your way. The fuckwit Architects responsible for this gem should be dragged out into the street and shot… till they die from it.

Not much to be said for the flight to Gatwick. Cabin crew where way friendly and helpful. In an effort to find a comfy sleeping position, I discovered new and exciting ways to contort my body, all of which I’m going to publish over here as “Advanced Karma Sutra and the pleasures of being able to lick your own balls”. Air was dry as fuck. Food was kak. That about sums it up.

Got the Gatwick and the immediate thought I had was it was like being on an ice rink! (which I quite liked). Got to customs, felt like my heart was being ripped out when they took my Girlfriend to some other room, for what I could only imagine to be intensive interrogation, but as it turned out they where checking all the Working Holiday guys for TB (phew), got the baggage (which ACTUALLY arrived in one piece, /end Paranoia), got on a train, dragged this bitch-ass, insanely heavy baggage (times two, I pretty much had to lug Girlfriends baggage up and down stairs as well) all the way to Stratford, ate something light, headed back the other way on the tube to a “Kickstart” seminar (read: London Micro waved), headed home, and drank like there was no tomorrow (Stella Artois)

And that, in a nutshell, is how we got here.

Went out on Saturday with me main man Beefcake. Saw the sites, learnt the ropes, ate, drank and partied all night long till 05:00, crashed at his place, watched dvd’s the entire Sunday before heading back “home”.
And now it’s Monday. Had quite a cool day as well. Managed to get a ltd company set up and the job hunting process is in full force. Haven’t managed to secure any interviews yet, but I guess it’s still early days.

We’re staying in a really cool place (albeit in the dodgier East London area) with 3 other folks (all South African) and the vibe in the house is very homely. My Girl and I are looking at moving somewhere more central next month so hopefully at least one of us would be gainfully employed by then. Holding thumbs…

[G], out
I need more cowbell