Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Back to Bristits

So in quintessential “Kate Fitzpatrick” style, I ran out of money, got evicted, surprisingly didn’t loose my job, but still lost enough to have to come home to never-changing, recently-flooded Brisbane.

But I didn’t come back on ‘just any old day’. Nay, friends. I changed my entire travel plans to arrive on a certain special person’s 15th birthday and jump out of a suitcase to surprise them, not telling any of my dear close friends that I was returning in order to keep the surprise a secret. Brilliant idea right? Unfoilable. Ingenius. I should work in government. Until I jumped out of the suitcase, blasting my vuvuzela, shrieking my return to the far corners of Manly West, to a less than impressive audience. The birthday boy, as it turns out, had just fallen off the jetty and needed medical assistance, rather than 3000 decibels of racket boring into his skull and destroying what few brain cells remain.

But after medical assistance, things went back to normal and I’ve pretty much adopted the same routine as I had before, from poaching two eggs on toast 9:30am every morning to seeing the same regulars on the waterfront running each evening.

Still the same old leagsie

Harry, you could have your own gorgeous middle class brunette Kate...
More silly cakes....

After much deliberation about uni – was so confused I even went to two universities for a couple of weeks until I made a decision – I’ve decided to do the exact same thing as I was before. I’ve also got another job at another pub. Surprisingly, it’s lasted more than a month. PB!!

I’m also interning at an ad agency at West End which is such fun/good experience. So between all that, zumba, personal training, pretending to be a masterchef apprentice, and being a regular at a pub 40 minutes away from me, I’ve hardly had time to scratch myself.

One of my masterpieces for the internship.

So although it's nice to be back amongst fresh linen and 2ply toilet paper, I do miss Camden's crazy pubs and living in poverty, but living in London. Still, I've got the Royal Exchange, the Royal George, the Elephant & Wheelbarrow, a Citigroup, an Oxford Street, and even a Royal Mail of my own. It's not quite the same, but it will have to do.

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