The O2 - Rebecca's First Ever Concert.

So this isn't actually a story about me. It's about my new wife. Back in March a friend of ours got tickets in the Clifford Chance corporate box to see The Script, an irish pop band, play at the O2. The only catch was that the day before Rebecca needed to be in Edinburgh to get her wedding dress fitted. Shouldn't be an issue, she would just catch a morning train back down to London and join us for the show. March 25th comes and the dress fitting goes okay. It took all day, four trips back to do refitting, but it was done and Rebecca was now in possession of her wedding dress. The morning of the 26th comes and Rebecca is lugging her dress to the train station and that's where things start to go bad. The train from Scotland down to London is packed full of Scotsmen in full kilts because there is a soccer game between the Brazilians and the Scots in London that day as well. Ok, well, not ideal, but the dress is in a carry bag, with a plastic sheet to protect it in case someone spills their beer near the dress.

The train starts on its way and Rebecca with her dress protected in hand starts her journey back to London. They get to Newcastle with a few issues and then continue down the track. About 20 minutes later, they stop unexpectedly in Durham and things got worse quickly. "Attention passengers, Due do a signal failure, we have been held here at Durham until they can resolve the situation. We should resume travel shortly." This message wasn't too unnerving to Rebecca as she had lots of time before the show, but to the Scots that had gone to see the match, this was cause to drink and drink they did. So much so, that they cleared out the train of liquor. Hours continued to pass with no new updates and things were starting to look grim. By this point most of the Scots had already left the train to go to the supermarket and get more to drink and come back and were bound to have a good time no matter what. A few of them even noticed that Rebecca was visibly upset. Also noticing that she had her wedding dress, they put two and two together to somehow got five.... They, being ultimate gentlemen, consoled the bride to be letting her know - "Aye, lass, if he truly loves ye, he'll wait for yee - dina worry." Somehow they thought Rebecca was missing her wedding. Apparently, missing the show was as distressing as missing our wedding... hmm may have to look into that one. Oh well. with about an hour before the show was about to start, and now knowing that she would miss the show, it's announced that the train would not be making it to London tonight and that they would be providing busses back to Newcastle or trains back to  Edinburg for the passengers. So Rebecca went back to her sister's place in EDI.

Meanwhile, I not really knowing what to do, am told by Rebecca that I am to go to the show without her as I am not to have my night ruined because of the train. What she doesn't realize is that I've never heard of The Script and I don't really mind if I go or not. But alas, I go. It was fine. I've only ever gone to shows where there isn't assigned seats and usually involve a mosh pit. But hey, if you are going to try the assigned seating it might as well be in a corporate box. It was funny however, because there was most definitely a few girls in the box that were really into the band. I mean REALLY into the band.

The next day, Rebecca travels down to London without a single issue and I pick her up from the station upset from missing the show, but relieved to be home and done with the travel. I think that's the end of the story, but no. The next week, Rebecca gets offered tickets to a show in the CC corporate box. She's heard of the singer before, but doesn't know them well, so she accepts them anyways thinking that she was robbed of one show, she might as well go see this one. I'll be the first to admit, the guy is a superstar, but I honestly never thought that he would be someone I saw in concert. I mean, tickets to the show were £200 each. Rebecca got home and told me the good news, we had tickets to Barry Manilow.  Needless to say, I was shocked and asked if Rebecca knew any of his songs. Not to my surprise, she hadn't.

May 5th, I went back to the O2, this time with Rebecca and we went and saw the legend in concert. I would guess that we were the youngest people there by about 20 years, but we had a great time and I don't think that Rebecca will ever forget her first concert, or the image of Barry Manilow shaking his hips on stage making thousands of women scream. What can I say, apparently it's not just me who has adventures. My new wife, Rebecca is going to be susceptible to them as well. This should be fun.

A Brand New Gig

I have always said that my time was worth more to me then anything in the world. Even if I chose to waste it by banging my head on the wall for hours, at least it was my decision to do that. Don't get me wrong, I'm aware that in this world, except for the very rare occasion, you need to work. Preferably in something you enjoy. After my wedding day, I came back to London and had two interviews for two completely different positions. One here in London, working in retail sales, the companies not important, and the other working in Stowmarket, which is about a two and a half hour commute each way, as a process engineer, oddly enough, for the company I had just left in america. Apparently I'm a company man and I didn't even know.  That's a different story however. 

In the end, I was offered both positions and was forced to actually pit my mouth versus my career. Something that most of you will already know that my mouth generally wins. I seem to be unable to keep my mouth shut when I should when I disagree with something. It was actually to the point in which it was actually mentioned in my goodbye lunch by my manager that things would be a lot quieter without me. I took that as a compliment even thought it really wasn't. This time however, I actually chose to be a career person. I took the job in Stowmarket and am preparing to learn to love the train. I mean, I know that I will lose 5 hours a day to travel,  1300 hours in a year, and that is 22% of my waking life will be commuting to work. Wait, why I am doing this again?? Focus.... Yeah, even if I'm commuting a lot, I really like London, and I don't think that it is feasible for me to move out of it here. Think, if I think that London moves slowly and all the people outside London say it moves too fast for them, I would probably snap out there. Second, it's not like I can't bang my head for the hours on the train. It still is in essence my time to do with as I please. I figure that I can always turn my train time to my google reader time. 

The other great thing that I have learnt is that even if this is England, the birth place of english, a language I thought that I had a good grasp of, it's going to be fun trying to learn how to speak to everyone. I've now been in London for 5 months and am starting to understand what the hell people are talking about. As well as learning what you can and cannot say. Ie, you can't say pants in this country, it doesn't mean pants, it means underwear. So when I say something like I'm just going to put my pants over my shorts here I get some really strange looks. You also can't say your double fisting beers, that means all kinds of inappropriate things and not you have a beer in both hands. Finally, when asked what I was planning on doing with my very first paycheck I made the common joke I generally make - "Waste it on Hookers and Blow." I still haven't learnt what that one means, but the look of horror on the face of the poor brit I was with was enough to know that it wasn't good. But in Stowmarket, it's a whole new bag of chips. a new slang that I need to learn and a new accent again. During my interview I found myself so confused most of the time it was almost like when in Morenci people would start speaking spanglish at me. I mean, even couple words I would get but the gist of the topic? Hell no. We'll have to see how this one plays out. 

But yeah, enough ranting, as of June 6th I will no longer be a house husband and have to go back into the real world. The only thing that I'm not sure of is whether this place is quite ready for the adventures that seemingly come with me. 

Promotion

So, the rumors are true. I have gotten promoted. I am no longer a house fiance and am now a true house husband. In all reality if you are reading this you would most likely know this because you either saw the event in person or at least already knew about the wedding. Since it has now been almost two weeks and since most people already know the stories, I thought I would keep it short and highlight some of my personal favorites.

First one has to be the moments just moments before the actual wedding where one of the readers comes in to wish me and the groomsmen luck and chat for a few. So we were in a little room in the back that obviously served as the priests getting ready area as it was full of extra staves and robes. Chatting away, a nameless groomsmen and the said reader took notice of the staves and things went decidedly downhill quickly and then I heard a comment I was sure meant that I would be smote at that moment.
                           "Hey, lets do religious jousting! You be Jesus, I'll be Satan!"
At least one thing was for sure, we weren't stressing out before the wedding. Well maybe a little, but that was just me stressing if lightning was going to come out of the sky and strike down this mess of a group.

Second one also goes to a groomsmen of mine, unfortunately. Before I get into details, when someone who is planning a food event for you and asks about your allergies, it's generally not to be polite, but more to be sure that they don't get you killed. He had been so worried about making sure that his wife was able to eat with her allergies that he forgot to mention that he was allergic to something. Beets I think, or was it radish? It doesn't matter at this point, so I'm going with beets. And you guessed it, said vegetable was part of the main course. Also, it was a species that when presented the way it was didn't really look like beets. It's always fun to have an emergency phone call to Colorado to find out the severity of a allergy at the wedding. Sometime I wonder how my friends have made it this far in life. Know that I only joke because I know that he is okay. Apparently he wasn't deathly allergic.

The Killer Vegetable

Last story has got to be the story of the health of the bride and groom. So, we arrived in Vancouver on the 22nd and immediately, Rebecca comes down with strep throat. I being the loving husband that I am graciously laugh at her misfortune and joke about how instead of a first kiss we will have a first cough. This ends up with the obvious occurring and I get strep as well (which I'm not sure has cleared up, but I mean with endless boozing and very little sleep I don't know how it would possibly stay. Cam assured me that the cure to strep was to drink Sauza, then mix this Southern Comfort so I'm sure I'm be fine).  We go the entire week and make it out alive, I bet that Nat, Dan, and Jen may argue based on the level of movement we participated in on Monday after all events. Then to top all of this off, I get back to London and it appears that I have turned into a dalmatian and developed spots. Great! now I have measles and am literally quarantined for 5 days.

Look you can play connect the dots on my arm!

No matter what happened though, I can say that it was an amazing week. We got to go back home, spend time with all out friends and family, and in the end signed a piece of paper that just makes official what was already known. So I thank all of those who were there, and am sorry to those that missed it. It was quite the adventure.

The Haircut

So, as everyone is most likely aware, I am actually becoming an official house husband at the end of the month. It's been a lot of work but I'm going to graduate from fiance to husband. With that, it's important that you look good on the big day and since Rebecca likes my hair best about two weeks after it's been cut, that meant that I needed to get my haircut here in London. I will say, that really shouldn't have been a big deal, but since when has anything worked out well? So, Monday I decided that I would check around the wharf to see what if there was a simple barber around. I should have know that would be a waste. The banking capital of Europe and possibly the world, does not have simple hair dressers. My options were: one: Toni and Guy - a premier hair salon that wanted a personal consultation before even considering cutting my hair, Two: Sean hanna - another high end salon or three: the gentry barber - which was a high end barber like Men's Ultimate Grooming in Phoenix, a place that while nice and would do a good job is still a little much for me, the guy who likes a simple hair cut, nothing fancy. Deciding the wharf was a little much for me, I found a simple hair dresser at a mall a short train ride away.

This morning, I decided that today I would venture out to get my hair cut in the morning and then I would have the rest of the afternoon to get some other things that I needed to get done finished. After Rebecca left for work for 9:30 (side note, how awesome would it have been to start work at 9:30 instead of 6am?) I cleaned up and went to Lewisham where the mall was. I got to the hair dresser, I think it was a supercuts, maybe mastercuts? One of the generic hair dressers. I got there just before 11 am and asked how long? Apologetically, they said it would be 45 minutes as they were quite backed up. That sucks but hey, I have my trusty smart phone and I can easily kill 45 minutes on the internet. 45 minutes come and goes, and only one of the people in front of me has moved, but you know what, there is this duo of girls that are getting their hair full out coloured and worked on, why they decided to do all that at a generic place is a different story, but they look like they are coming to an end so I will wait. Another hour passes, and the only reason the line in front of me has gotten shorter is because people have gotten fed up and left. The duo of girls have decided that the first attempt wasn't done right and are now on try two, but I still have the internet and I'm still happily waiting. Now, it's 2:30 and I'm really thinking that I should just give up, but so many others have and I'm now in the front of the line and I've invested so much time I feel committed. I decided that I wasn't going to give up and finally, at 3:30 I'm rewarded and they say they will cut my hair. However, apparently I've been sitting so long that the hair washing that I did in the morning wasn't good enough for them and they said that they wouldn't cut it unless I paid them to wash it again. Fine, you know what, just wash it again, I really don't care. They cut my hair, I pay up and I thankfully get the hell out of there. To my amusement the duo of girls, was now on attempt 3 or 4, and still working on it. So, I have to say it could have been much worse and hey, I was getting to go home. Or so I thought...

I get back to the DLR station (one of the various subway like trains in London), Check the time for the next train, 20 minutes, hmmm, that's odd, usually they come every 5 - 10 minutes. After 20 minutes, the displayed time disappears entirely. Oh no, this can't be good. Sure enough, a few minutes later "Excuse me, Due to issues with the DLR system, all trains have been cancelled to Lewisham. Please find alternative travel arrangements. Sorry for the inconvenience." What? it would only be a hour or so walk, which wouldn't be too bad, but I'm on the south side of the river and need to get across the river to my place on the north side with no major bridge for miles. Time for the trusty smart phone to save the day. Unfortunately, remember that 4 1/2 hours of waiting for my haircut, well, I was watching high def video's online, and the last thing my phone told me before dying was there was a foot path that went under the river that wasn't too far out of the way. Hmmm, no phone for directions, in a part of london I don't know well, to a footpath I only saw briefly on the map before my phone died. Sounds like an adventure I can't pass up. Thankfully, the trip didn't involve getting too lost. I actually made it back home  in about 2 hours. I mean, yes, the footpath that went under the river was ultra creepy with the 'I'm going to get raped vibe' but other then that the weather was nice and overall I would do the walk again. Unfortunately, that wasn't the worst part of the walk back...

After awhile, I got through the creepy underground tunnel, got back to the isle of dogs where I live and can actually see the building I live in. Now, there is a park near our place and as I'm leaving the park I get caught behind two mothers pushing their babies strollers while meandering down the street. As I'm tired and want to get home I decide that I'm going to just slide past them and continue down the road. How I wished the road had been too small and I had to have crossed the street to pass them. If only life had been so convenient.  Passing a baby stroller what is the first thing you always do? For me, it's look at the cute little baby usually enjoying themselves on their walk. This time was no different, expect I did not expect what I saw. To be honest, I can't even remember what the kid looked like, but I do know what I did and said... I looked down and saw what in my opinion was an alien and jumped and said "AHHH!! what the hell!?!" Note, for all of you who are a little bit socially unaware, mother's are generally pretty defensive of their babies. The next few minutes, or what seemed to be hours, consisted of me being hit and yelled at for insulting the poor woman's child. Next, the child started to cry which caused the second kid to start crying, and it was all bad, all the time. I don't think that I could have gotten out of there any faster. I mean, I feel like a totally horrible person, but I didn't mean to be an ass.

All this in the name of a shitty haircut. So, I expect everyone reading this that sees me at the wedding to compliment me on the haircut. As with most things in my life, it was certainly an adventure.

The House Husbands Guide to Becoming a Londoner

Before I begin let me apologize for the not writing anything in a while, but I have a good excuse. So, I was trying to make some sweet and sour pork for dinner and I had my laptop on the counter for both music and the recipe when a cooking tragedy occurred. Reaching up to get something from the cupboard I knocked over a bottle of soy sauce onto my laptop. Now, it was sealed and closed so there is no liquid expelled to damage it that way, however, it did impact directly with the hard drive and since my windows disks are in Canada, my computer will be down until at least the wedding. Further proof, I should not be allowed in a kitchen. But onwards and outwards. 

To become a Londoner, I have learnt that there are man things that you need to do. I thought that for my latest story I would write about two of the steps that I took to becoming a Londoner in the past month or so, and no for the people like Peaches that have been hoping, it was not to develop an English accent. I'll work on it but I make no promises on that one. 

The first step was on valentines day where me and Rebecca decided that seeing a west end musical was a key thing that needed to be done. Seeing that it was my first west end musical, and Rebecca had seen countless musicals,  Rebecca let me choose the one that I wanted to see. Such a poor decision. There were so many choices, I mean should I pick a classic musical like Phantom of the Opera or Les Miserable? Maybe I should choose one of the newer ones out there like The Lion King or We Will Rock You, you know something that Rebecca hasn't seen yet. No, it was clear to me what we should go see. I mean it was valentines day and it really should be a musical that is upbeat and with some kind of love story, right? The choice was clear as I said, we needed to go see Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. Nothing says Valentines day like Australian drag queens and since I figured that I loved the movie, I would like the show. You know the more I think about it I may have an unnatural fascination with drag queens, but I think that I will leave that for a different day. As for the show, it was ridiculous, over the top, and borderline obscene. It was perfect. I mean it couldn't have been better, it even included the giant an operatic song sung from queen lounging in a giant shoe. 

We weren't allowed to take photo's but Google had this one by Tristram Kenton

I would have to say that the first musical that I went to see was a great success. At this point we haven't decided what to go see next, but I'm sure that Rebecca will get to pick, even if she was laughing and having a good time at Priscilla too. 

The second agenda item was that I was suppose to go see a football match here in London, and from what I have learnt from the various people that I have talked to, you can become a fan of one of the big clubs, like Arsenal, Chelsea, Manchester United, or Liverpool like I am, but that isn't as much fun as following one of the smaller teams.  Also, I have found out that most of the family that I am marrying into are supporters of the local team in Watford. So I was invited to go see a Watford game. We ended up going from the near furthest southeast of London, where Rebecca and I live, all the way to the most northwest to see the match. At this point we have no idea who Watford is playing, but we figure it should be a good time. Once there we get told that the team they are facing is a dirty evil team that are a bunch of no good hooligans from Millwall. Wait a second, why do I know the name Millwall, trusty google phone don't let me down.... That's why I know Millwall, they would be the home team where I live in the south east of London. Shit... So, do I go with the family, who at this point I've realized are quite passionate about this, or my home team... Well, in Arizona I didn't cheer for a single Arizona team, so I guess it's really not new for me to be living in a place where I am not a supporter of the local team. Watford it is! 

Ticket for the Watford - Millwall game

Lets go back one second. Remember how I was saying that I was told that it is more fun to support a small club. Well, Watford is a small club, now I don't mean a small club in the premier league, The Watford Hornets play in the football league championship division, which is the league below the premier league. But don't let that fool you, the people at the game when things weren't going well resorted to throwing beer bottles at the players. They take this stuff seriously here. One particularly fun thing that I spent most of the time doing was watching some 12 year oldish kid continually freaking out about the game. I mean, the ball would go out for a throw in and if it was awarded to the opposing team he would act as if that was a crime against humanity. I one point I was just hoping for his team to mess up to watch him freak. I mean that was more entertaining then the match. I know how ridiculous that sounds coming from me, as I can be one of the more passionate fans out there, but I assure you, this was out there. In the end, Watford won and good times were had by all. 

Watford was in Yellow and Millwall was in blue. Also you can see there is a group of police between the millwall fans and the watford fans.

I don't think that I can say that I'm quite there yet, as I most definitely don't have the passion yet, but I got my first few lessons on what I need to know about to be a true Londoner. Now I guess that means that I need to go to an away game and use the special barricaded visitors entrance or go do the next things that I need to learn to do while living here in London. This should be an adventure.

Adventuring to Bridlington

Good day, before I tell you about the latest adventure that I had, I need to explain a few things. First, for the last three years whenever I had a free weekend with my cohorts the first thing we would do would be to leave our small town of Morenci and go to the big city, whether that was Phoenix, Albuquerque or Tucson, sometimes with as little as a few hours notice. This was just the way it was, Morenci really didn’t have much to do and it was nice to get away from the mine and the constant reminder of work. Second, I just sold off my truck, a nice big six seat Silverado that I had named Isabelle, or Izzy for short. With those two pieces of information, I think we can start.

                About three weeks ago, Rebecca and her friends Stephanie, Laura and Carla decided that since in early March, Laura and Carla are moving to Paris and Dubai respectively, we should do something before they leave. It’s decided that we are going to go to Bridlington in Yorkshire; at this point the only thing I can tell you about the place is that it’s on the sea, which sea? I haven’t a clue, but I’m told that I don’t have to plan anything other then what to pack and that if I made cookies they would be delighted. Time goes on and no mention of the trip is made to me again, I think the girls were discussing and planning but to me everything is going smoothly until the day we were going to leave.

                Friday comes around and I get told that I need to pack my bag, a small one, and be ready by 6:30pm, which coming to know the lawyers of Clifford Chance like I do really means that they will hopefully be ready by 7:30pm. To be fair it’s usually not their fault as they usually are getting stuck at work, but nonetheless it’s still the reality. To my surprise they came to pick me up early at 6:50, well early by the standards I set and told me to hop into the car. What they should have said was hop into shoebox. Apparently, we were going to drive for four hours in a Ford KA. Now for those of you that are North American and don’t have the KA I’ve included a photo below. It’s a little smaller then a mini. And there were five of us. Oh Izzy, I have never missed you as much as I did that very second. I mean, I have been in some bad car rides before: 10 hours to Vegas in a full corolla, St. Andrews to Edinburg with 5 a focus and enough luggage to clothe a nation, and 30 hours to Vancouver going through the blasted lands of Idaho (you might remember that from earlier), but I will never complain about any of those trips ever again.

Figure 1 - The KA

Upon arrival in Bridlington, I swore that we had somehow made a wrong turn and ended up in Nevada. Unbeknown to me, the English seaside towns consist only of candy stores, fish and chip stores and amusement centers that look exactly like the small casinos that you find in Nevada. The whole place is flashing and blinking, the only thing that was different was that instead of real gambling and slot machines it was full of arcade and fair games. Additionally, you had the seaside. Since it is the winter the place was pretty quiet but apparently it becomes so packed that you can’t move in the summer.

Figure 2 - Playing the games inside one of the arcades (Laura, Carla, Stephanie, Rebecca and Me)

The other thing that we got because of the winter was a very angry sea. On more than one occasion you would be walking on the seawall, which was about ten to twelve feet over where the water was and a big wave would come in and splash up at you. Naturally, this meant there was only one thing to do. Try and walk all the way down the sea wall and back without getting wet like a game.

Figure 3 - The Raging Sea

Unfortunately for Stephanie, she most definitely lost the game and was hit full force by one of the waves. I had a few close calls but all in all I would have to say that it was a victory.

Figure 4 - My narrow avoidance of the waves.

After getting Steph home and dried off we then went out to dinner at one of the nicer restaurants in the town and had some good ol’ British cuisine. Side note, you have no idea how hard it is to get a photo that four girls agree is a nice one. I will say that this photo was the umpteenth one after we had to discount many because: “My smile looks stupid”, “My boobs look lopsided”, and “What are you looking at?” I say it was quite a production. But after I ruined the all the others, the girls decided that this one was ok and that my smile, boobs, and facial expressions was okay. :-P

Figure 5 - Dinner out on the town.

Finally, the next day, since I have now been to the UK on three visits and have now lived here for two months and until this trip I had never had fish and chips here. So, we decided that since it was my first time we would all pack into the KA again and drive to the shop that had just won the UK’s award for best fish and chips in the country. (Even thought it won best in the UK, it really made me doubt if I wanted to go if it meant that I had to get back into the KA). However, to my pleasure it was most certainly worth the inability to breathe for the duration of the trip.

Figure 6 - Laura, Carla, Rebecca and Stephanie at the fish and chip shop

All in all, it was an interesting trip. Almost the complete antithesis of what I was used to however. Instead of a group of boys and Rebecca going from the small town to the big city to go do some event and drink whilst forgetting dinner, it was a group of girls and Sean going from the big city to a small town to do nothing but eat dinner. Life is always full of odd twists of fate, but in the end it has and always will be an adventure.

The Apartment

Well it’s been about a month now that I have lived in my new place and I figure that I should give you a tour of the residence. So Rebecca and I moved into a furnished apartment that had just been newly built (it’s still shiny). So you enter our apartment, 29 as you can see, and you are in a little hallway. We’ll stop here to show you some things before I continue. 

Figure 1 -  View from the entrance of our apartment

First, on the left is a really neat phone for letting people into the apartment complex. It even has a video screen to show you who is at the door. That would be great but because of where the camera is located and how most people use the entry pad all you ever get to see is the section of body between thigh and neck on most people. I must say it’s not the easiest figuring out who people are by their chest and you always feel slightly creepy when it’s a girl visiting and since almost all Rebecca friends, and therefore guests, are girls. So, I don’t really use the camera. Next, you see Rebecca’s shoe rack. Yes, those are all her shoes, if you can see in the details, my two (and only two) pairs of shoes were deemed to be unworthy of space on the shoe rack and get to sit beside the shoe rack. Finally, if you are really astute you will notice that my front door has no door handle. Apparently this is quite common but unfortunate none-the-less because the door is a fairly heavy door with a strong auto closer. This regrettably causes the door to slam and shake the apartment each time it closes. But we should continue, as you enter the house to the left is a closet with a washer/dryer. Not two distinct pieces, in the UK, it’s always a single unit. For those of you who knew Jamie in Morenci, it’s exactly the same kind of washer. So it’s about a 1/3^rd of the size of a North American model, takes twice as long and the dryer function is really more for show then actual usefulness. This actually means that I do laundry every two days seeing as a load is about 2 pairs of my jeans and 4 t-shirts before it’s full.

Figure 2 - Washer/Dryer Combo

Directly opposite is the washroom. It’s a washroom, nothing too special, but here you go. Our colour scheme is kind of brown and cream. You can see we’ve decided to frame some photos of us as well as this is where the photos of my friends ended up (I wonder if that’s a subtle message to me, hmm must investigate later).

Figure 3 - Bathroom (sorry about the camera flash in the mirror)

Next, you can either go left into the kitchen/living room or straight into the bedroom. Let’s check out the bedroom so we can end in the living room.  Let me just start with one thing, I always knew Rebecca had a lot of clothes and I always thought that I had an idea of how much she had, but man was I way off.  You’ll notice that we have two wardrobes as well as a dresser and a night stand (actually you probably won’t due to the angle of the photo, but there is a second wardrobe right beside me at the left foot of the bed and the dresser is right beside me on the right against the wall).

Figure 4 - Bedroom

One would assume that the reason we have two wardrobes is to be able to accommodate all of two peoples clothing. This would be wrong. We have two wardrobes to accommodate Rebecca’s clothing. I get the dresser. Next, for my parents that so gratefully helped me pack. You may notice that the nice heavy comforter that I had to vacuum bag across the Atlantic doesn’t appear to be here. Have no fear. It is indeed the duvet set we use as it is extremely warm. But it’s underneath the set on top that is for show… sometimes I really have to wonder.  I will say, however, that it does look quite nice. And even though I pick on Rebecca for these random things it’s really not actually as bad I make it. It’s not like I could fill more than a dresser of clothes anyways, I have only been in this country for a month.   Let’s move on to the final room: the kitchen and living room. As you could have probably assumed it’s just one big room with both a little kitchen and a living room area. Since the apartment was, as I said earlier, fully furnished, the only thing that we had to procure was the bookcase in the corner, which coincidently enough is now the largest thing that Rebecca and I own. How things have changed.

Figure 5 - View of the living room from the door

You would figure that since the only large thing that we purchased was a bookcase it wouldn’t have been too big of a deal. Unfortunately, since Rebecca and I are trying to save for the wedding (to officially turn me into a house husband) when we purchased the bookcase we had two options: one buy two of the black doors for 40 pounds each OR buy two white doors for 10 pounds each and paint them black. No brainer, what good is a house husband if he can’t paint something black? In the following two days I learn two extremely valuable pieces of information. One, I am a messy person and when mixed with sticky paint that gets everywhere bad things occur and two, with enough effort you can get paint off of absolutely everything. I mean leather, glass, wood, skin (lots of skin) clothing, anything. Last thing I wanted to point out was the red floating candles in the water on the table. If you are ever in the apartment you have to mention that they look good. It took three weeks and trips all over London to make that thing. Also, because it’s just a bowl of stagnant water it is always evaporating and leaving film marks. It’s good times though.  Clean up the house, water the plants and water the candles…  

Figure 6 - View of the kitchen from the dinning table

Finally, here is the kitchen. I actually enjoy it a lot. The stove and fridge are smaller and aren’t as nice as the ones in Morenci, but I think I am still in awe of the fact that I don’t need to use my washer and dryer as countertop space.  Side note, you don’t realize the absurd number of strange looks you get when you are walking down the street with a 50L garbage can. I mean I think the people on the underground thought I was some kind of terrorist. No, it’s not a bomb, it’s a garbage can when you don’t own a car and your fiancée sends you to the extreme south east of London to get a specific garbage can you tend to need to take the train. Just like when Rebecca finds a kettle that she likes, but it isn’t available in London we went to pick it up in Edinburgh after new years before getting on the train back to London.  But yeah, that’s our apartment. It’s now all set up and the door is always open. But I warn you,  it’s always an adventure.