My Week as a North London Girlie

Anyone who knows me knows I live quite a fast paced existence, juggling a multitude of projects while running on matcha, black coffee and limited sleep or food. Anyone who knows me really well knows that I’m typically hurtling at speed towards burnout or already there. With this in mind it’ll surprise no one to learn that after six days at home following finishing university, I was on a train heading south for a week in London. It was a week that didn’t go to plan by any stretch of the imagination, but which was certainly interesting and as such I thought I’d share it.

Monday

Having risen earlier than I’d managed in a while, Monday morning saw me standing on the platform of a small Welsh station waiting to catch a train to Birmingham. The train ride was primarily spent reading the Grazia magazine in preparation for visiting the offices the following day. At some point during the trip I received my degree results and the subsequent hour or so was spent informing the relevant people. After this lengthy process, arriving at Euston came as something of a surprise and after swapping the peace of the Welsh mountains for the chaos of the capital city, I decided to escape the crush of the station and begin my commute with a walk. With two heavy bags this may sound like madness, but I’d much rather walk through the back streets of London than get on a tube – I mean, who wouldn’t? You never know what you’ll see. Admiring the buildings and history of the city, I made a beeline for the closest Crosstown, discovering some cute galleries on the way. Eventually I found myself in my usual haunts, hiding in the art section of Hatchards while I tried to catch by breath. Fast-forward through navigating the press and tourists surrounding an unexpected red carpet to my final stop of the day – picking up keys meeting the woman I’d be shadowing the next day. With a final phone call to my career mentor, Monday was finally at an end. Suffice to say, it was a chaotic day of travelling that made me grateful for an empty North London house and early night.

Tuesday

Rising far earlier than was necessary and feeling both prepared and unnecessarily nervous, I caught a bus through the chaos of Camden roadworks towards an anonymous office building. A building that houses a range of magazine and radio staff including Empire, Absolute and Grazia. It was not my first time in magazine offices, but the somewhat informal feel of the work environment always surprises me. Yes there are rows of desks lined perpendicularly to the white walls, but there are also people chatting and plenty of places and opportunities for coffee. It’s always a bit of a culture shock after the Oxford libraries with their silence and formality, it’s fresh and dust free both literally and metaphorically. The day began with a 10am news meeting in which, poetically, Devil Wears Prada was discussed and I discovered the source of the red carpet chaos of the day before. From there it was a series of meetings and meeting staff, which led me to gain a real insight into how the magazine (both print and digital) is run. I could give you a detailed description of the day, but then I doubt you’d make it to the end of the post! Instead, I’ll quickly run you through some of the highlights to the outside eye, which included an interview with some Love Islanders, poking around in the fashion cupboard and a free pair of jeans. It was both interesting and highly enjoyable and when I left I was on a high, which was dampened somewhat by having to walk home due to roadworks delaying busses (in the rain!). This resulted in me missing a networking event and was the start of things beginning to go south…

Wednesday

Wednesday should have been a relatively quiet day; however, thanks to some last minute emails it went from sleepy to chaotic. Waking around 5am, I got ready quickly so as to attend an interview at 6am. Yes, I am well aware of how horrific that sounds! Thankfully, my brain functions incredibly well at that time in the morning. As 8am rolled around I was champing at the bit to begin my day, which took to form of shadowing a photographer in Hackney. I love professional studios. I love them because they don’t look remotely like what you’d imagine. The extortionately expensive tech (which in this case included a crane for the camera and more lights than I have ever seen) is offset with rugged walls and improvised props. It’s such a beautiful dichotomy that reminds you that photography boils down to skill rather than gimmicks and sets. We spent the morning photographing beauty products for three magazines, which meant a lot of unpacking and repacking fake tan and a fair amount of playing with sand.

The second half of the day probably sounds more traditionally my style, beginning with a matcha and Itsu as I attempted to battle the growing fatigue in my brain. This is typically behaviour for me, the first step in my fatigue contingency plan and was an attempt to catch myself before I had to take more drastic action (like sleep!). Heading back to Kentish Town, I changed into a suit and enjoyed my picnic while watching the first episode of My Lady Jane. I have been fascinated by Lady Jane Grey for a long time (I vividly remember sitting on my grandparent’s bed as a small girl watching a documentary about her) and was highly suspicious after watching the trailer. The first episode was good fun however, and a nice break for an hour. Onwards and upwards, to meet my college brother in Southbank for a chat, a bubble tea and a browse of the books. Crossing the river, I then exchanged a uni friend for an instagram friend at the National Liberal Club. If you are not familiar with the club, it’s a truly beautiful building fulfilling every expectation of a gentleman’s club. I would attach some photos here, but I refrained from taking too many. We were there to attend a talk on Viking London, a talk which reminded me of why I chose the degree that I did for the first time in longer than I’d care to admit. While I would love to say that the talk was followed by a swift exit and an early night, it was instead followed by drinks and food in the bar while we talked; two recent English graduates and two far less recent PPE graduates swapping life advice and Oxford admissions stories.

Thursday

This is where things deviate a little! What should have followed was a workshop on filmmaking and a show that I was reviewing, but instead a good chunk of the day was spent immobile binging My Lady Jane and trying to convince myself to get out of bed. When I eventually managed this task it was to organise getting myself to Oxford for the pressing task of picking up my post. It was strange to be back in the city after the busyness of London. It felt quiet, sleepy even, as I grabbed some food from Gloucester Green and navigated my way past a seres of buildings that were now closed to me. When I reached college, I realised the extent to which the university is closed to those who are on the outside, needing help not only to get into the college but also through the various doors in order to find the small (missing) parcel I was in search of. Somehow it felt as though nothing and everything had changed. For the first time I realised that this was no longer home and the university that had been my whole identity for three years was no longer. Oh well, I guess we’ll have to see what comes next… What came next that day was Crosstown ice cream, a train home and the finale of My Lady Jane.

Friday

With all this in mind, it was something of a relief to travel home the following day. The journey began, however, with a quick walk up Primrose Hill. I received some judgement for this decision, but some of my best memories of London are located in Primrose Hill – some day I must see if the cupcake shop I used to love is still there! It felt nice to just relax for a moment and breathe in the place that many of my family call home. That peaceful walk with no pressure and a good playlist was arguably a high point of the week. Then came the journey in reverse: dropping the keys off, a tube ride, a train ride, running across Birmingham International for a connection, the world slowly becoming less sleek and well groomed as I returned to Shropshire. I suppose the moral of my story is pace yourself and to know your limit. With just over a week until Fringe I can confidently say that this is a lesson I have yet to learn. The story has a happy ending though: a bath, a limoncello spritz and my book.