Livin' La Vida London

So... apologies for droppiong off the end of the proverbial cyberspace earth recently. Having spent so many years in the land of the short term and the immediate, I had forgotten how long it takes to set up a life. I think last time i wrote I was crashing on Narelle and Michelle's couch, attempting to come to terms with my new found career as a dreaded spa girl. Well... some things have changed... and some havent.

After a long and rediculous search I FINALLY foud myself an apartment.

Yes... Amy Maiden is living in a house. For the first time in years I have a room to myself, a lounge room, a kitchen, a bathroom and none of it is moving! What a luxury. After an endless parade of viewing ex council flats, dodgy pot smoking hippie comunes and tiny dog boxes, I finally found my new address. In Battersea, about three minutes walk from my friend john's place, I share with two other girls, Harriet and Sarah. Both english, both fun and excedingly chilled out. No more sharing with crazed south americans, loud Texans or frighteneningly quiet south africans. A lovely house, with lovely people... I am in heaven. The apartment is in a beautiful little street that backs onto Battersea square. It is a really pretty area a few minutes from the river and a fantastic building. A split level place, polished floor boards, open plan kitchen and living room with the comfiest couch you could imagine. Yes my room is small, but it is bigger than a cabin, has a double bed and no stinky room mates in sight! I have rediscovered a love of cooking, entertaining and have become surprsingly domestic. Yes, my room is still a pig sty, but I do the dishes, tidy the house and even iron! I have a sudden desire to buy the entire Ikea catalogue.

I have posted some pictures... they are not my best shots, but you'll get the idea.

But... to afford this lovely apartment, I have to have a job. And yes, I am still a spa girl.

The wonderful world of the urban retreat is yet another in the long line of my rediculous day jobs I could write a book about. Just like when I was a Nanny, I am back in the world of lords, ladies, earls and duchesses... but this time, instead of their children, laundry and dogs; I am organising their bikini lines, regrowth and botox...

This place is hilarious. With 160 services offered by over 50 stylists and therapists, Urban Retreat is more of a circus than a salon. As with any other work place cosmos... there are clicks, groups and hierarchies. The place seems to be divided into a few different sections... hair, beauty, nails and reception. They hair stylists are my favorites... They are cool kids. The beautiful exotic ones with the most glamorous jobs. Everyone is named Flavien, Andre, Paco and Claudio... they all have non-specific European accents and know exactly what to say to the desperate housewives and footballers wives who come to see them everyday. (oh... and the manicured gay men with a highly disposable income.) 150 pounds may seem expensive for a haircut, but these customers also get an hour of handsom men telling them how beautiful they are and how fabulous they will look when they are done with them. Big hair billows around the room while highlights, foils, sprays and serums fly around the room. It is the land of the anti depressants... of the Xanex and valium. Women who have more botox and collagen than actual flesh rotate through the doors, most of them making a few visits a week to lay down their husbands credit caards and escape their lives for a few hours. Most of them are so anesthetized they can hardly remember their PIN numbers.

My day at Urban Retreat is a busy but tiring one, but thankfully the people are nice, can have a laugh and I get all the beauty and hair treatments for free. So... salon director Paco cut my hair the other day and blow dried it. I made the mistake of telling him I like my hair to be big and he replied with "darling... by the time I am done with you... you will look like Miss Venezuela 2006"... and that i did. It was hilarious. Thankfully, with out the use of hair rollers, curling irons and enough hairspray to forever ruin the ozone layer... it looks a little less Eurovision and a little more Amy

This bring me to another rediculous point. It is company that no two people in the Urban Retreat can have the same name. So upon my employment I was told that "there is another Amy coming, she is a stylist with an established clientelle... so you cannot be named Amy. From now on you will be called Amelia."

So yes... I have a Harrods name tag that says "Amelia Maiden" and confuse people when I do not respond when they call my name. Or should I say pseudonym. Having this rediculous name for some reason has led me to speaking about my "Urban Retreat" self in the third person. "Amelia is tired... Amelia is hungry... Amelia is not paid enough to listen to these women winge about paying 80 pounds for a Hollywood wax"

So... while most of my precious time is taken upwith answering phones and swooshing around a salon, my off time is spent trying to check things off my "life in London list."

House - check

Great House Mates - check

Bareable job to afford great house - chcek

Great bunch of friends - check

Agent... drum roll.... CHECK!

Yes, this week I signe with Vocal Works. They are small but great agency who has a very high profile clientele. Not only do they now represent Amelia Maiden but they also represent the likes of Felicity Thompson, Michelle Pitcher and Mr. John Ellis. In a nut shell... I've got an agent and that side of my life is once again stirring into action.

I gues that is all the news i have.

Life here is slowly blending together. Disney, P&O, BAPA, Australia and London friends are meeting each other and morphing into my "family away from family." There have been endless coffees, lunches, brunches, pre show drinks, post show drinks, bla bla bla... I had forgotten how exhausting it is to have a social life when your friends and local bars are not up one flight of stairs!

So, I guess to sum it all up... life is good. Settled, quiet and good.

Who knew I would be so easily contented!?

I blame Amelia... it's all her fault.