Author: maddieisoutoftheoffice

So, I’m back on the blog. I hope that’s a good thing; let me know either way!

Plans are coming together, albeit a bit hectic given we fly a mere four weeks after I left work. And, since you never know when/what/where, I had already booked to spend a third of that sailing…..

This week I introduced my new lady cat – hereafter referred to as moppet, because she isn’t the smartest bunny in the burrow – to the cat crate. She sat, locked in, and stared silently at me. After twenty minutes I let her out so she knows it isn’t a forever trap, forthwith she sat and shouted at the Hoover cupboard. Oh, moppet, you have been my old lady cat’s best friend since the moment I introduced you, and I adore you!

An aside: I took the moppet to work on my last day in the office, because – as a self proclaimed and proud cat lady – why not? A lot of my colleagues were (are!) cat people and a rogue cat in our super confidential box, which no-one else in the company noticed, was actually pretty amusing. Whilst also confirming the effective Chinese walls!

The lady cats shall fly this time, hopefully less chance of losing one of them (if you’re new to this blog; it can happen) although I believe they have to scan the chip either side however they travel, ergo cage open, which means a wild cat could escape even if airplane delivery was selected instead of car ferry; that said, I know nothing of the cargo containment areas. I know for sure a car ferry has no sure thing!

This is the third time I’ve put my old lady cat through a journey like this and it does worry me because she panics, cries and pants; I can’t explain to her that it’s only four hours, that the noise will subside; that life will be better at the other end – especially if you love sunbathing and lizard catching. So what I am doing is breaking up the crate time by spending a night with my suitcases, my cat crate and my lady cats at an airport hotel the night before we leave.

It’s a pet friendly hotel. If they let one of my cats escape I hope they are better equipped to catch them again than the ferry in Cadiz!

I know, we’ve been here before…. but it’s happened again, I’ve resigned the City life for sailing.

Ultimately it wasn’t my choice – a very long story short – the wonderful job I came back to, with a five year plan, turned into a six month rollercoaster. And it is time to resume the original Plan B…..

I’ve been a bit of a recluse in my time in London, a lot more flaky than my usual self, for which I sincerely apologise. Uncertainty makes me nervous and brings back all the doubts I have about my self and my choices, and I’m more inclined to just hide indoors with my lady cats.

But now it’s all steam ahead! It’s back to the sailing life! Let’s hope I haven’t forgotten everything nautical (especially blinking tides and weather; my nemeses, along with Ulysses) during my retransition into London life.

Must admit it has been a very strange few months. When the job was on the line I ran out of bras and winter boots (sorry if that is TMI!) but how does one go shopping when they don’t know if they are going to be a City girl in London drizzle for the next few years, or rocking and rolling on a Bavaria in the Canaries?! Very different underwear and footwear requirements.

So, decision made, notice handed in and flights booked (bears are flying so there’s less chance of another lost-on-a-ferry situation!), shipping in progress, Aussie Man and Van collecting the possessions they returned to me in June plus the furniture I have purchased since….. duplex apartment near a marina reserved until July, and my goodness I hope the sun is shining when I arrive.

It’s five years early – but I’m going back. And I’m ready!

These are the instructions my storage folk were given, my list, but not my intro; I’m not quite this firm:

“The crew are to access the containers at our depot, find the contents below and deliver JUST these items to the new address. The items are:

Bar globe
Large cream trunk
Large canvas print x2 [Kim!]
Hoover
Box marked “kitchen”
Box marked “ornaments”
Chest of drawers x2
Bed side table x2
Large patent shelves x2
Coat stand
Free standing mirror
Hall clock
Burgundy suitcase
Female bust (sequinned)”

They brought everything except the shelves, and by virtue of a translation error they also brought my wedding dress and bouquet; the dress is back in storage, bouquet I only discovered after they had left.  Perhaps I’ll display it again one day, for now it is enough to know it is still perfect, but it doesn’t need to be a focal point of my new start.

It is a fabulous sign when you see your own items being returned as a joy – it has become clearer in this time of limited possessions what is important and precious to me.  The items I have missed the most are actually those I bought myself over the years.  Before I was involved in other people’s lives to the extent such that I couldn’t afford to buy anything for myself, I gave myself an annual bonus gift.  The primary of those was my pedigree cats…. then – over the years – a limited edition canvas print, a sequinned bust, the bar globe…..  And it makes me proud to have them once again in my home, cats not included, they’ve spent a year in storage, yet that doesn’t decrease their value to me.

Over the next few years I will be putting aside as much as I can for my future, but I guarantee I’ll be buying myself an annual bonus gift to pat myself on the back as I go.

The fact I accidentally bought the same jukebox as the “chief” from Big Fat Gypsy Weddings a few years ago doesn’t mean I have bad taste, I love that jukebox.  It just remains in storage, for now.

It was a bad start when I sent my passport off with my stuff for shipping; it was even more stressful when my wild cat disappeared just before she was due to be collected for transport and I had to chase her down; but nothing quite prepared me for the phone call informing me that they’d lost her on the ferry.  In Cadiz.

Having spent two and a half days in a large air conditioned cage travelling from Tenerife with her sister, the ferry pulled into Cadiz and the drivers went to move the girls back into their crates.  My little old lady cat walked into her crate of her own volition, lulling everyone into a false sense of security; the wild cat had no intention of going quite as easily.  To provoke matters, the drivers attempted to use a broom stick to drive her out of the cage and into the crate….  Long and short, one large and very scared cat, who we know is extremely agile as she used to jump onto the bathroom ceiling to climb the chimney, literally lept over their heads and out a window onto the car deck.  Apparently it was quite fantastic to see, albeit less than ideal.

When they called me they’d been searching for a while, but I persuaded them to keep looking, so they waited until all other vehicles had left the car deck, yet still couldn’t find her.  By this point customs were getting close to closing, and the police were getting suspicious as to why these two vans weren’t leaving the ferry, so they had to depart.  The lead driver went to speak to the captain of the ship and explained the situation, he left his phone number and asked them to call him as soon as she was located.  They then set off through customs, where their vans were searched by the police, nothing suspicious was located – because of course their “we’ve lost a cat!” story for staying behind was completely true – so they were allowed to proceed.  With one cat in situ.

They waited two hours at the ferry port just in case wild cat was found quickly so they could grab her and be on their way, but no luck.  It was decided they’d continue on their journey – they have further ferries to meet to cross the Channel – but left her crate, a sack of food and cat litter behind with the ferry staff.  I understood their logic, but was sad to think of her scared and alone on the ferry, for what could be days or weeks, until someone was able to catch her and deliver her to someone else who in turn was able to deliver her to me….  Was my wild cat now to become a ferry cat?  It would certainly be a change of lifestyle.

Three hours and 200 miles later the van driver got a call: she had been found – captured by means of throwing a large blanket over her!  Well done, ferry staff!  They said they’d look after her on her return journey to Tenerife, if I could arrange for someone to meet the ferry and collect her – of course, I couldn’t do it myself as I was leaving Tenerife for London in order to meet the van, and cat onboard.

The van driver himself is scheduled to come back to the UK at the end of July, to Plymouth, so we were working out the logistics of my finding someone in Plymouth to meet him and look after wild cat, then my getting to Plymouth to collect her…. when I got another call.  They’d had a crisis meeting and the van drivers were going to do it – they were going to share the driving, take one van, and make the six hour round trip to get her!!

Add on an extra 90 minutes to get her from cage to crate, successfully this time – apparently they engaged a water hose to subdue her – and they were on their way again.  Girls reunited.

No more a ferry cat!

In only a matter of days I’m going to have to be a grown up again.  Earn money, pay council tax, wear tights and heels!

I’ve loved my year here and I can’t wait to come back to continue the adventure – some people think I’m crazy for leaving at all, but I know it is the right decision as it means I can throw myself into banking for the here and now, whilst sensibly planning for the longer term.  Oh, investment banking, I hate you for giving my life plans geeky terminology, but yes, this is a strategic solution.

So, we are headed back to the City.  I will miss living by the sea, I am not too happy about litter trays or work clothes, but I am excited about sushi Tuesdays with my girlfriends.  And I plan a lot of return visits to Tenerife – with five weeks annual leave, I can pretty much come out to the Canaries every other month for a long weekend of margaritas and sunshine – yippee!  I may even manage to fit in a boat or two…..

I’m all packed, almost; amazingly, I don’t appear to have increased my volume of stuff too greatly.  The same suitcases are being re-used, I’ve been brutal about the China Town purchases – all off to the charity shop, along with a big stack of books.  Furniture wise I’ve acquired a coffee table, a hall table, and a second cat crate to go with my large wild cat!  I’ve also grown quite attached to a certain frying pan, which I’m torn about taking or leaving; if I pack it I won’t be able to use it over my last few days, if I try to take it with me handluggage I have a feeling Ryanair will accuse me of harbouring a weapon….

The lady cats leave on Friday evening and I’m a bit scared for them.  Five days in a van doesn’t sound like much fun, (of which 2.5 days are on a ferry; do cats get sea sick?) and I am more than a little worried about them drinking enough water en route, because the water bottle training currently feels more like water torture….  But I will be waiting for them on the other side, I sign the apartment paperwork 12hrs before they arrive, and then it’s an indoor prosecco picnic for my first evening back – this isn’t the first time I’ve moved into a property before any furniture – we know the drill!

This is an exciting new phase for me, even if it now feels like it is coming round far too soon.  Am I going to have to table the blog once I’m back in the office?!

Something I have realised I am looking forward to when I resume London life.

Perhaps it is the temperature, or the transitory aspect of a lot of the people in Tenerife, but shops don’t sell fresh flowers or house plants as routinely as they did back in the UK.  I have friends in London who are so committed to having fresh flowers in their home that they go to the flower market every weekend.  My mother has flowers in almost every room of their house, real or silk or a combination of both; flowers have been a constant for me growing up.  They also trigger very strong memories.

My father travelled a lot with work when we were growing up, so his return was always celebrated – both for us children, I still sleep with a bank branded teddy by my bed, and by my mother; the gift which delighted her the most was when he would fly in from the East and bring a florist box of orchids.  Her peeling off the tissue to reveal the leopard print orchids is a memory I will always savour as if it was just yesterday.  Nowadays, cut orchids are a frivolity few can enjoy, but a potted orchid can feel like a friend, a slightly temperamental friend with a lifespan in the same region as a hamster.

Of course, by tradition, we have wedding flowers; mine were silk and diamante, with the intention that they would be an arrangement I could keep rather than just expensive memories.  I will always love them, however, they will now probably stay packed away with my wedding dress as a facet of my past, a piece of my history.  I don’t regret buying them, they brought me great joy, nor do I regret fighting the wedding planner for the flowers I wanted for the ceremony – thank you, X Factor, for proving that what she said couldn’t be done, could be done – when a hotel thinks they are getting free publicity they need to calculate for the fact that people will see it!

Flowers also brought me a desperate few days; lilly pollen can be poisonous to cats, and the morning before I was due to fly to South Africa for a friend’s wedding one of my cats appeared on my bed with lilly pollen stains on his face. The vet assistant confirmed this was an emergency and he was animal ambulanced to the animal hospital for four days of observation…..  My cat was fine, but I doubt I’ll have real lillies in my house again.

Then I have my vase of silk flowers.  They were a birthday gift from my mother; any apartment I have lived in since has immediately felt like home once they were placed, and I knew they would never wilt, nor would they poison my girls.  I carried them as my hand luggage on the way here on the 1st of July last year.

And I’ll carry them back again in two weeks.  

What a difference a week makes.

Last week I was browsing salopettes, in line to purchase a studio apartment on a Canary island, and ready to switch my mini for a left hand drive clone…..

This week, and I doubt you’ll be surprised, we’re entirely on the case with project Move Back.  Within 48hrs of job offer a flat had been located (thank you, sibling!), a man and van booked to transport stuff – including two cats – to the City, flight (one way, yikes) paid for, and adios parties starting to fill the June diary.

It hasn’t been without hiccups; man and van hasn’t been able to get on the shuttle and ferries only leave Tenerife two days a week, so the cats will be in transit for five days.  Subsequent open question around how much they are going to eat and poo in that time.  I was originally hoping to get them in a crate together, but my little old lady cat is vicious towards wild cat when they are in proximity (I tested), so separate crates it is.  I failed referencing for the flat due to my lack of proof of address for my year in Tenerife, so have had to pay upfront…..  tbc whether this is also an issue for job referencing, quite literally the only formal letter I have received in my year here was from the vet after I had wild cat microchipped.

What am I excited about upon my return to London?
– alpro soya yoghurt
– gf soy sauce
– running on flat
– ad hoc pub lunch plans
– sensibly priced toiletries
– squirrels instead of cockroaches as my pest of choice
– regular buses

What will I miss?
– living by the sea
– the lifestyle
– the weather
– never having to wear tights and heels
– ridiculously cheap cava

What am I most uncertain about?
– being a City person again
– persuading wild cat that the UK isn’t terrible; not going to be assisted by the five days in a van to get her there.

This is happening. 

I don’t quite know how to tell you.

Only a matter of days ago it felt like everything was finally coming together for my future out here, I would no longer be transient; I passed my Cruising Instructor, so working is tenable; I had my eye on a delightful studio for sale around the corner from where I live now, ground floor so we could have the ever desired cat flap; and my friend found an automatic mini within budget, which I was ready to snap up…… then everything changed.

I’ve only confessed to a few, but there’s been a niggle in my brain for the last six months.  It dissipated for long enough for me to concentrate on passing my YM and CI – but it popped back up for real midway between the two when I got snippets of news, and I started to dwell on the dreaded what if.  What if I left London at the wrong time?  What if I left at the right time, but there’s a little more City in me?  What if I can live both dreams?

And so, with much much much trepidation, with everything I had hoped for out here within such close reach, but – and in my head it is slightly, and joyfully, snakes and ladders fashion – I have to reveal that I am taking the route back.  I’m going back to the City.  Not forever!  I’ve learnt so much about myself out here, about what I want and where I see myself in the future, so I will return and recommense this adventure.  But right now I think I need to satisfy that what if, and take on a few more years in the City.

Without going into dull banking stuff, the tender for this job was submitted two days after I gave notice.  Of course, the timing couldn’t be plotted.  And it has haunted me ever since.  It will be a challenge, it will be everything I walked away from and more; the hours will be long, conference calls will be my lifestyle, I’m definitely going to have to wear tights, I’m equally excited and petrified.  It is a massive promotion and a job which I couldn’t have imagined would be mine when I started working in this world, I will have a The in front of my job title.  How could I turn it down?  Especially after being gone for a year to pursue something completely different!

My dad said that it’s a “no brainer”, but the decision was down to me, and it wasn’t easy – am I ready to give up this wonderful new life I have here?  Can I go back without falling down the rabbitholes of lethargy and stagnation I felt a year ago?  I want to say yes, I’m not the same Maddie who left the City, I am excited to embrace yet another challenge and be credit derivatives geeky for a little while longer before being a full time saily lady in denim shorts with terrible hair.

City friends; buy prosecco.  Canaries friends; look after these glorious islands for me!  Sailing friends; hold a place for me!  Maddie will be back.

For background colour, please see: https://youtu.be/CYRENWT8lz8

This is me. 

Perhaps not every word of the presentation rings true (after all I do exercise in my active wear), but gymkit me is one I am open to show the world and for so long now, especially since finding myself happily single.  Supermarket, charity shop, vet, GP, letting agent, manicurist, cafe, pub….  there was also a period during which I considered being a personal trainer (I still get the emails trying to recruit me) which would mean I could even wear active wear to work! 

There really isn’t anything better than gymkit.  And now I live in the sun, and don’t get terrible tanlines, I can actually sit on my terrace with a 4pm vino in my gymkit and not fret about ugly sports bra strapmarks.  The only time it has been an issue is when I get id’d; the majority of running shorts for girls don’t have pockets, so I can carry only limited possessions on my person, I’ve solved for housekey, struggling to solve for passport.

Active wear / gymkit is also excellent for sailing.  Until the passage I hadn’t been one to grump about bras, I tend to lean towards strapless 99% of the time, so padding and underwire is not alien to me, however, wearing a bra 24hrs a day, and sleeping in it in a motionary scenario: the only guaranteed result is chafing.  It was about 72hrs of this before I decided this was an entirely unfeasable long term situation and the bra was abandoned for salopettes.  However, in the Canaries, given the general (mustn’t grumble!) weather, salopettes are a no go – so, bring on the sports bra.  Ten points to gymkit, strapmarks aside.

I try to team my active wear with clean(ish) hair and leaving-the-house makeup, also I aim to carry deo and perfume if I think I’m going to be running to the pub rather than directly home; of course sometimes this doesn’t go to plan, my bendy arm means I end up in the pub in gymkit more often than intended.  That said, once I’ve been active in my gymkit I do try not to get on public transport, and shy away from physical contact, because that’s just unnecessary.  Also the eejits who burgled my house last year put all my stolen items in my running backpack – and thieved it – so I’ve had to make do with a sub standard China Town version since; I wish they’d taken any of my far more expensive, less running appropriate options, especially since I expect they meandered down the beach with their haul.

I actually feel less judged in my active wear than in casual or work clothes; for me it’s like wearing a uniform.  As someone who was far more comfortable in class than at any out-of-school (non-uniform) activities where potential for mocking and bullying increased tenfold….  I expect it’ll be a while before I forsake my running shorts, a hacked-with-the-kitchen-scissors slogan tee, sturdy undies and a pair of garish trainers as my outfit of choice for out of the office scenarios.

That, and I know I can run.