And now for something completely different.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like London.

I did. My decision to leave was based on several things, one reason being that so many people dream of living there, myself included, because of all that it has to offer culturally. The galleries, museums, festivals, the fashion, food, and incredible architecture. London does have something for everyone. And it’s tiny, too. It seems enormous and daunting, but it is in fact rather small if you are willing to walk it.

I couldn’t appreciate London, which is different from saying I didn’t appreciate it. It is in no ones best intrest for me to moan about how kitchen work is long and hard and tubing it to and from work is boring and exhausts you further so I won’t but it only took a month before I had to give up exploration during my days off for sleeping in, getting laundry done, and watching tv. Staying off my throbbing feet was my main priority.

London also kept me from my main hobby, this place. Working a job that forces you into a box is one thing, but not being able to express yourself creatively in the manner that most suits you in your spare time is beyond frustrating. I didn’t feel as though I was gaining much; I learned how to manage but I was so nervous about my imperfections that I lost all the confidence I had built up over the last year. And confidence is terribly important in doing things properly and efficiently.

Money was a bit of an issue, though I suspect it was mostly in my head, which wasn’t London’s fault.

So all right then, what now?

There is a job waiting for me in Plymouth, Devon (yes, sconeland). Wait, that’s not right. I am waiting for my Plymouth job in St. Anne’s Chapel, which is 1/2 a mile from Bigbury, which is 2 1/2 miles from Bigbury on Sea. Never heard of it? Neither had I.

The English countryside is something I have longed to travel since childhood. The tiny cars on the narrow roads, kindly pulling over and arguing cheerfully about who should go first, the sheep wandering around in the distance. Baaaaaah!


This is real.

Except the English country dwellers know how to drive these roads so they take them at high speeds. Yes the roads absolutely narrow suddenly to one lane just as you pass a sign that reads “Oncoming traffic in centre of road”.


Wild ponies.

Sheep are not afraid of cars. They probably don’t even know they are there. And like cats they are fine until you point a camera at them and then its all ass for you.

Everything is damp always. Clothes do not quite dry ever and moss covers the trees. It is always chilly, but in the way that makes you feel alive.

This is St.Ann’s Chapel. There is one building I haven’t included in this photo, along with four houses and an oyster shack. But this is the town centre. 

The view…of the only place to spend money (and the other side of the city centre, said building mentioned above. I will still fret about money, I know it).

Now it’s all about adjusting. Going from 8million peeps to maybe 500 is a bit of a jump. The internet is extremely sketchy and may involve sneaking down to the restaurant in the middle of the night to blog or chat. Cellphone reception is sporadic. I can get it at the bar, but randomly, and if I sit in the middle of the bed and don’t move. And even then I can’t text my parents. Guess I’m going to get to know this guy, which ironically does not accept coins:

This is the way to town…

Not as busy as Oxford street.

Maybe there are pigeons around here I can train. Guess I have to figure out which way is Canada.


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