In the few months that I’ve been living in the English Countryside (excluding the two months I was back in America), the only real problem I’ve encountered is the constant poor internet connection. Right now I’m sitting in a pub with my boyfriend at 4 in the afternoon on a saturday purely for the use of their wifi. Job hunting in this modern age, when you don’t yet live in the area you’re looking to work, is utterly impossible without internet. Perhaps that’s why people were so much less mobile before the advent of internet job sites? Unless you got transferred or knew somebody who knew someone you rarely left a place with a job already waiting for you in the new place. Though, to be honest, it’s unlikely I’ll have a job waiting for me when my boyfriend and I finally move to a tiny rental somewhere in London. And it will likely be the depressingly new Docklands. Which I’ve never been to. And am expecting to hate.
So who in London wants to give me a job?

I’ve been bad.  I’ve left America once again and only marginally achieved my goal.  I finally sorted out all my junk, but never saw the plan through.  Rather than selling all my clothes and STUFF, it is all sitting in bags and boxes in a spare room.  Things I want to keep but could not bring with me on my plane flight back to England are in boxes and suitcases in my old bedroom, waiting to slowly make their way across the Atlantic.

So now I’m sitting in a pub in Chelsea, having finally submitted my visa application and officially a Master of Arts, trying to finish up job applications and send out e-mails I’ve been delaying sending.

And while I desperately want a grownup job, I instead foresee myself working behind the bar in a pub just like the one I’m sitting in right now.  Or back in a shop somewhere.