I think by now we have well established that I am terrible at packing. It’s not that I forget anything important, more that I am entirely unprepared for whatever weather gets thrown my way*. I swear I check the weather forecast before I go, but the day I arrive inevitably a freak weather system rolls in and I am entirely screwed. Over Christmas I think I finally nailed it, I was the packing master (not in the Dr Who sense, I wish). I managed to pack for a 40°C fluctuation in temperature and not freeze or boil.

I was in New Zealand to see my family over Christmas where, due to being on the arse-end of the world, it was summer. On my way back to London I needed to head to Chicago for a week where the temperature (I hoped) would be around 0°C, but because its me it was actually -20°C. Yay me and my weather curse.

I took my big suitcase (can hold up to 20kg) but because it was Christmas I only had half of the space for potentially lifesaving clothes, the rest was allocated for Christmas presents; last time I went home for Christmas Santa (my parents) gave me an entire towel set (including bath mat and two face clothes) so I had to be prepared. Yes, you can get towels in London and yes my parents were aware of this but decided to go for it anyway.

What was a girl to do? Turns out it was to just pack the same things for both temperatures. Yes I know that makes as much sense as a chocolate tool set. NB: I got my Dad a chocolate tool set for Christmas and it was amazing, the bolt worked and everything. Anyway, hear me out with the packing theory.

I am not a stylish person, no matter how long I look at cool girls on Instagram I inevitably end up wearing jeans, a black H&M singlet and a sheer shirt thing over the top. If I am very lucky I might even wear an actual shirt, but since I only iron twice a year there isn’t a high likelihood. This lack of style makes packing rather easy, jeans year round and the same top no matter what the weather or circumstances. That top I have that looks like an avian themed 70’s wallpaper? I have worn it to interviews, parties, on dates and to work. Fashion confuses me. If anyone knows how to change this please DM me.

Anyway, I packed as if weather did not exist in my universe and then made four additions.

  1. A pair of shorts
  2. A puffer jacket
  3. A bobble hat
  4. A pair of gloves

I turned up to the airport in Chicago wearing jeans, jandals (I’m a kiwi, I always travel with them) and a puffer jacket looking like a girl who totally has her life together.  I got laughed at the moment I walked into the office in Chicago (happens wherever I go), but to be totally honest with a puffer jacket, a hat and gloves you can survive almost anything. And as for New Zealand, it was its normal terrible December weather and at 20°C I was completely fine in jeans and a t-shirt .

At this point in this blog post you might be rolling your eyes and are almost ready to click off. BUT hear me out. Before anyone goes on holiday there is the inevitable ‘holiday tax’. You go and spend money you don’t have on clothes that you NEED just for the holiday. I call bullshit. Living in the endless grey weather conditions that make up London you have almost all the clothes you will ever need (unless you are literally going to find polar bear), take the money you would have spent on that top with the pineapples on it and spend that on a bath of chardonnay when you arrive. Clothes will never make for the perfect trip, being there is what is important.

*Seriously, I am in Stockholm at the moment. I when I looked last week it was all meant to be sunshine, today there was a snow storm…the snow was going sideways…my shoes are ruined.

I have my fear of flying fairly under control these days. This is mostly thanks to exposure therapy (aka traveling for work) and those magical Gin Gins that set my mouth on fire to distract me from the turbulence. But holy hell the flight I just got off almost had me back to my crying on strangers days.

To be very honest I think I would have cried on strangers if it weren’t for the fact that I was sitting in the middle seat and the man to the left of me clearly had the flu, and the girl to the right of me was a statuesque ice queen who stole my arm rest. I was out of crying options. From the moment we took of until we were just outside Stockholm it was horrible turbulence. The sort of turbulence that is reminiscent of a roller-coaster from an illegal Disney theme park where there are ‘hidden Rickeys’ everywhere.

It was all because of some fucker called the jet stream. According to my extensive research (I googled it) jet streams are the mammoth winds that move weather systems around the globe. For a pilot it means fun times because coasting along in one like a metal albatross makes the plane go faster. For me the jet stream means spending two hours in the middle seat of the last row of the plane, frozen with fear as I imagine the fiery death in front of me.

Of course (spoiler) I didn’t die. I am currently in the back of a taxi and have just had a lovely chat with my driver who is Somali and lives in Sweden but studies Italian. I don’t understand how flying still causes such a fight or flight reflex in me. Yes I am better, and long haul is easier because I try to fly on A380s or Dreamliners, but still a smallish plane and non-stop turbulence can take me right back to square one.

Part of me wonders if it is imagination. Whereas James Bond can walk into a room and see 100 ways to kill people, I can walk into a room and see 100 ways that I will fail at life. When I fly I can’t just accept the science and statistics, I KNOW that things can go wrong (even if there is an almost 0% chance) and my brain just extrapolates from there.

It’s not going to stop me travelling of course, mostly because it is literally my job and and quite like being able to pay rent. But as I check into my hotel and try to unwind my tense mussels I will be cursing the jet stream with every creative word I know.

Five years in London is coming up alarmingly fast. Five years when I only thought I was moving to London for three months. I now have two homes, two homes on opposite side of the world – the distance makes it a little hard to pop over for a coffee. Every time I am in London I miss New Zealand, and when I am in New Zealand I crave London.

I love where I am and I don’t want to move home any time soon, but a little bit of my heart remains 18,234km away. Instead of a post today here is a little video from me to say what is too hard to put into words. Enjoy xx

How much does it cost to flat in London

Since an American talking Burger Ring is currently trying to stop immigration…I want to make it as easy as possible. Any questions you have about moving to London please send them my way, it’s about to get honest. Flats tend to cause the most stress (and are what I got the most messages about this  month) so I figured it was a good place to start. These baby-expat questioners don’t normally give a crap about aesthetics or finding the cool kids; it’s all about where and how much.

‘Where to live’ is something that everyone stresses about before they move over, but trust me when I say it always works itself out when you arrive (everyone has a terrible flat story after living in London). Unfortunately finding a flat in London comes down to money and priorities. Money because that is what you pay your rent in (good god I hope it is how you pay your rent), and priorities because that will dictate how much of your salary you have to spend on rent. As an example some people want to come over to London for their two years to travel, nothing else matters as long as they are on a plane every weekend. If that is your goal then finding the cheapest flat possible is how you will have an awesome London experience. For me, London itself was the goal. And for me to enjoy it I needed to be in a safe, calm flat with as few people as possible aka I should have known from the start that all my money was going to end up lining my landlords pocket.

Before we get down to the money I want put a little disclaimer here in an attempt to holt any trolling before it starts. This post is how I did it when I first moved to London, but everyone has their own experience. I think a lot of you will see the numbers below and think that I was totally insane spending that much on rent, but it was my choice and was what I needed to do to be happy (add a comment to the end of this post with how you did it, seriously I’m interested). I also want to mention that I 100% realise the privilege of the numbers below, I am university educated and did not have any dependants which allowed me to be entirely selfish with my spending. Being skint in London is very very different to living on the poverty line.

Since the end of this post is all from my perspective, I wanted to cast the net wider to see how other people decided to spend their money on rent, and of the 150 or so people that replied these were the results:

Question: What percentage of your income goes on rent?

London rent statistics

Question: How have you saved money on rent?

London rent saving statistics

Question: Has the cost of rent in London ever made you consider moving home?

Has rent in London made you want to move home?

Yeah those numbers are pretty scary, it’s not just me then. If you are in a relationship you are one of the lucky ones, it looks like it is pretty much the only way to pay a reasonable amount in rent. But for everyone whose only ‘action’ is swiping right on Tinder the reality of living in London is that 42% of people who answered the survey spend more than 50% of their income on rent. The number I find the saddest is the 87%, the 87% that have considered moving home because of the cost of living.

If you want to play along and work out how much you have to spend on rent I suggest you do some googling to find out what type of salary you can expect over here, don’t make the mistake of just assuming you will get what you were on in New Zealand. If the internet doesn’t help, the minimum wage  is based on your age and can be between £4 and £7.20. I tried to find the average salary but couldn’t find anything more recent than 2015 (no, I didn’t go past the first page of google, don’t judge its late and I’m hungry) where the average salary in the UK was £27,000, which works out to be around £21,600 after tax (NEVER FORGET THE TAX).

Ok, let’s go. I don’t know why I haven’t done this level of detail before. I guess it’s because we are all so squeamish about revealing money matters even to close friends (and because HEY TROLLS). Even now I am only giving you the numbers from five years ago, but still I hope it helps! Five years ago when I arrived in London I had a fairly average admin job – entry level and soul destroying but you had to have a university degree and experience to get it. My salary was £22,000 per year, which worked out to be £1,458 in my pocket each month after tax and national insurance (NI is basically another compulsory tax that goes to pay for the NHS, pensions and benefits).

At the time I was living in a two bedroom flat in Zone 1 (this is where a lot of you spit your tea over your computer screen). Living in zone 1 is not a normal thing for a newbie Londoner; since Zone 1 is right in the centre it is very expensive and most people live in the easily commutable zone 2 or 3 for that reason. I briefly lived in Colliers Wood (Zone 3) before going for Zone 1, but the 1.5hour round trip to get into central meant I never went to experience London at the weekends…which was kind of my entire point of moving over. Side note: being sad and feeling alone in Colliers Wood is exactly what prompted me to start this blog, it was meant to force my ass to do something at the weekends.

My zone 1 flat was in Wapping and it fitted the bill in that it was safe and quiet. But for all the reasons that it worked and I stayed put for two years, it wasn’t exactly a Bridget Jones dream flat. There was mold everywhere, my room wasn’t huge so my bed was hard up against two walls and my ‘bedside’ table had to go at the foot of my bed. Oh and I could never have my windows uncovered because my room backed onto a carpark.  But I was only living with one other person which was my top priority (if you are reading this, hi Chi!). My rent in 2012 (this has probably significantly increased for a similar flat in 2017) was £758 and every month bills and council tax would add about £150 to that. Yeah council tax in zone one for only two people is a complete bitch.

My monthly money looked a little something like this (this is probs 95% accurate, my brain is struggling to remember 5 years ago).

London flatting budget
*I could have had a free bank account, but this one gave me travel and mobile phone insurance for £10 a month, oh and it also gave me 5 song downloads and a DVD rental each month…it was weird.

Once I took care of the standard expenses I had £300 to play with, as long as nothing went wrong. Turns out things quite often go wrong in London – one Thursday you get stuck paying for an unexpected round of drinks and there goes your transport budget for the month and you have to walk everywhere.

The thing with the above situation is that I was earning enough money to be able to choose to spend it on rent. Choice, that is the thing. It was tight, I ate the same thing for lunch for an entire year to be able to stick to that budget of £25 a week for food (almonds and cranberries for morning snack, peanut butter sandwich on homemade bread for lunch, chopped carrots and cucumbers for afternoon snack). For that year breakfast and lunch cost £8 a week, leaving me with £17 to sort 7 days of dinners. You can do it, but you have to be organised.

Anyway, how does this help you decide where to live? As I said it comes down to money and priorities. First up calculate how much money you will have after tax (take that salary you googled and put it into the tax calculator on this site: http://www.moneysavingexpert.com/tax-calculator/ ). Then decide what your priority is, if it is travel how much will you need to save each month to be able to afford flights and hotels etc, or if it is London then how much are you willing to sacrifice for being able to walk down the Thames. Work out a draft budget based on the one above.

Once you have all your estimates in place you can put the remaining amount in the rent column and play real life Sims. Head to Move Flat or Spare Room and see what you can afford, play around with the zone and number of people to see how that impacts things.

There is no such thing as the perfect flat in London, you will have to compromise somewhere along the line. Depending on how restricted your budget is it may be living with ten people, being ages away from a tube stop, living in a cupboard (true story) or all of the above. But as you are crying into your laptop at how much all of this will cost remember; There is no such thing as a ‘bad’ flat in London, only one that you compromise for in order to live the London life you want.

Cat Space duvet cover

I never thought I would be writing about a break-in. Well, I hoped I would never be. And I seriously never thought I would be writing about a break-in in such loving and overwhelmed tones. But here we are. I have ‘returned to London’ countless* times, and it’s always a little weird. Coming home to a lifeless flat, looking around wondering what to do next to pick up where you left off. But when I walked through the door last weekend it was different. I had been away for a month between holiday in Auckland and work in Chicago and while I was away someone had broken into my flat.

Normally that would be a bad thing. A very not ok thing. A crying as soon as you walk through the door thing. This was not that.

My flight from Chicago was delayed by three hours right from the start and when we were finally on our way we took off in snow clouds, and then arrived in London to more snow clouds. Cue a very bumpy flight and a very overtired Rebecca that finally arrived home. At first when I finally arrived home and walked through the door my flat looked totally normal. But then I saw something out of the corner of my eye.

My duvet was covered in cat astronauts.

Yes, while I was away someone had broken into my flat and changed my duvet cover.

At some point over Christmas I had a twitter conversation with Emma about the duvet in question. She sent me a link to it and I instantly fell in love because A) Cats B) Space. I quickly forgot about the conversation, but Emma, Emma got to plotting. She ordered the duvet online (George at Asda if you want one yourself) and roped in Lex who has a key to my flat. They broke in, made my bed and gave me the best space cat based surprise ever.

I am really glad that Emma and Lex didn’t figure out how to rig up a camera (apparently they did try) because I pretty much turned hysterical when I saw it. I veered so quickly between crying and laughing (the lack of sleep helped with this) that if anyone had been able to see it would have been concerning rather than delightful.

I just had so much emotion, what an unbelievably lovely thing for my friends to do. It made coming back to London a completely different experience – from cold and empty to hella full of friendship. Girls, you can break into my flat any time.


*Ok not countless. 38 times in the last 5 years.