Day 4 - Liverpoooollll, Liverppoooooollll

My mate Cameron asked me the other night why I had started praising the UK instead of my usual bag, bag, bag. Well I think I’ve got it. I've coem to get uised to it. I'm applying for my highly skilled visa and trying to do my tax at the same time, only problem is that the Home Office and the Internal Revenue both ask for your original P45 (tax statement) - but you are only given one by your employer - well that makes sense!!!!! But I didn't bat an eyelied. I simply accepted it and am now trying to find ways around it. Accepting UK life is like the five stages of grief. Now let’s use a bank as an example.

1. Denial – The "No, not me" stage.
   This stage is filled with disbelief and denial. “So I can’t get a bank account until I get a job, but can’t start my job until I get a bank account?” How can this be?


2. Anger/Resentment – The "Why me?" stage.
   Anger at the situation. Does no one else realise the stupidity here!!!!!! Does anyone is this bank realise how stupid this situation is or are they just ignoring it??


3. Bargaining – The "If I do this, you’ll do that" stage.
   You try to negotiate to change the situation. ‘Okay, I’ll jump through your hoops’. But then you realise that the person you were dealing with on one thing is replaced the next day and you are told a completely separate thing.


4. Depression- The "It's really happened" stage.
   You realize the situation isn’t going to change. No matter how much you fight, it actually gets harder, as people can’t understand your frustration. You actually want to speak to an Indian call centre as at least they don’t have an inflated sense of self and will help you.


5. Acceptance – The "This is what happened" stage.
   Though you haven’t forgotten what happened you are able to begin to move forward. You throw it all in and embrace it. This was my logic getting a new mobile phone today. You need to walk in, throw yourself on the fire and let it happen - they only stuffed up transferring my number and gave me the wrong colour - amazing!

This is the same with UK life. You start having more English friends, you start to consider the possibility of *gulp* a committed relationship with *gulp* an English/European girl– as you know antipodeans are only going to be around for a year or two – and you start putting mayonnaise on everything. Basically, you come to accept life as it is presented to you and you shed that ‘it’s not like this back home’ opinion. It’s good when it happens because you don’t start cracking it at random stupidity on the street that you wouldn’t see in Aus, and you start to become, well, local.

This means you stop thinking you need to go to the best bars and feel the need to have a cracking night out every single night. You are at peace enough to go to the local to watch the football – particularly the CHAMPIONS LEAGE FINAL!!!

I popped down to the Falcon in Clapham to watch Liverpool take on Milan for the title of European Champions. A few of the boys were there, but we lost 2-1 so I don't want to talk about it. I walked home and got a chicken kebab. To make mattes worse the zip in my jeans stuck and I had to rip at it to get it back up and in the process broke it. Naomi bought me those jeans for 5 years ago at a surf store off Pitt Street Mall in Sydney. I loved those damn jeans. A sad evening. But Platoon was on when I got back. So I watched that.