It's over.

My love affair with London. Done, finished. I have spent the last two days soaking up every last bit of it. I am now officially unemployed. Well, self-employed. Today I walked away from everything I have known for the past two years. Yes, a majority of the time it was a pain in the arse but I've had some pretty good times in Laandan taaan. Most of those involved alcohol, one occasion involved the theft of my precious Blackberry (which I had to hand back today). Another involved karaoke. And alcohol. Ah London. How I shall miss thee.

Alright, yes I'll still go there and it's only up the road and all that, I know. Shut up. It won't be the same though.

Now I need to start an affair somewhere else. Hmm.... for now it'll have to be my bed.

Monday

Today shall be the last Monday I ever dread, the last one that I walk around with the 'ump, the last Monday I look at the people around me and scowl. Yes, that's right - it's the last Monday here at my job. Two days left and I'm officially retired from the world of Visual Merchandising. Yippeee. I was thinking of writing a letter and leaving it on the notice board in the kitchen (actually, I stole this idea from a colleague that hates this place too). It would go something like this...

Actually, I better not. It's a bit naughty and has swear words in and I'm trying to be professional.

I am a little sad at leaving although I haven't really told anyone this. I'll be sad to leave behind some very good friends (although I know that they will soon be following me in leaving this place for something tons better), I have laughed a lot and cried quite a bit, had my heart broken, had it repaired and then broken again, I've had arguments and hissyfits, I've thrown things, smashed a light bulb, called in sick when I was fine, called in sick when I couldn't move after drinking The White Heart dry, stolen a biro and some paper for my printer at home (DON'T TUT, WE'VE ALL DONE IT), concocted a plan to get on the roof to throw waterbombs at passers by (childish, I know), been told off for a very high phone bill (all work, honest)....oh the memories.

Still, I'll be my own boss from Wednesday so I can do all these things and more AND I won't get told off.

In the words of my dear friend, Carl.... 'Sick'.

Friday.

The day after Thursday and the day before Saturday. It's my last Friday at work before I leave. Yesssssssssssss. I am overwhelmed with joy, so much so that I may have soup for lunch. I may also do some work (just because I feel bad). My boss is going to be lost without me, I am like his right hand (leave the dirty remarks out please...). I am his PA, his muse, his cheerer upper, his best friend, his wingman. I am also his nightmare employee and totally unmanageable (his words). Let's see him cope without me....

Idiot.

Sunshine.

Isn't it a glorious day? Well, it is 'down South'. As I write this I'm eating a lolly, it's quite hard with one hand. It's so glorious that you probably need a really floaty skirt to keep you cool, which is so odd because I have an eBay shop selling some - http://stores.shop.ebay.co.uk/grannysvintageshop - go and have a look.

I quite like the sunshine. I don't, however, like sunshine from Big Brother.

Dressing Up.

As I was prancing around my lounge last night in a skirt I was modelling for eBay (I can't afford to hire some tall, skinny godess) my brother pointed something out. Since I can remember I have always loved playing dress up and I used to dress him up too. He was my best friend at the age of two, my best girl friend. We used to play tea parties and wear hats and the like. He pointed out that after nearly twenty years 'playing' dress up, I have now pursued a career in it. My dream has come true.

Then we both put on our best hats and sat down to a cup of tea.

Rat Race.

Well I have six working days left before I leave the rat race behind. I do believe it is called the rat race because London (and every other city) is full of rats. Not actual rats (although I have seen quite a few of them in the underground over the last few years) but scurrying little fuckers that want your job/think they can do your job or just rats in general (you know - the ones you have to look at from across the room everyday and wish you could stamp on them).

I can't say I'll be sad to leave it behind. On my last day I might even bring in rat poison (not actual rat poison - maybe just a poison pen letter. Or some laxatives for peoples tea.)

Dirty little rats.

Computer and the like.

I've spent the last few days getting my brain around setting up websites/twitter and all that and trying to upload my logo to the temporary ebay shop I have opened until my website has been designed (by me so it'll be a while). I haven't gotten very far although I was successful with the twitter one (follow me @GrannysVintage). I also listed some lovely summery skirts and a few other bits and bobs (http://stores.shop.ebay.co.uk/grannysvintageshop) so take a look and buy them please. If I know you, you can have mates rates. If I don't then tough shit.

There goes the swearing again....

How to Blog?

I have two weeks left at work. Part of me is overjoyed at this thought, the other part is shitting itself. Reason number one being I don't know how to blog. Am I allowed to swear? Be myself? Prim and Proper? This blog will run alongside my business, it needs to be professional doesn't it? I need to be professional? Is that too dull? It will only be successful if I'm professional, right? Oh fuck.

D minus 15 or something like that...

So it's just 15 days until I leave behind the security of a full-time job to launch my career as a one woman vintage loving granny machine. Or a one woman granny loving vintage machine. Or just plain old me, ditching my bitch infested job in fashion/retail/creative to start something I've been meaning to start for a while now.

Granny's Vintage - coming soon.