Eating and drinking my way through life and learning all the while

Things could be worse

Just had a wander down memory Lane, past my old flat in London.

And whilst life certainly ain’t all rosey right now, it gave me pause for thought about how much tougher life might have been had I not decided to pack up and leave almost two years ago. Things could be worse…

I can’t imagine how depressing lockdown would have been stuck inside my old one bed flat in North London, with no outdoor space. Admittedly, it would have meant I spent lock down with my husband instead of with an ocean between us, but pretty sure we’d have both gone mental locked inside together for months.

I would have hated being responsible for making decisions about redundancies and furloughs for the team of 15 I used to manage. I was running divisions in New York and London and travelling between the two, something that hasn’t been possible since March. A lot of our old business involved international events – something that has fallen off a cliff now and is off the cards for the foreseeable.

I was living this imaginary highlife working to the bone and earning a good salary but never quite managing to make a dent in my debts or save anything. Our outgoings meant I was spending as much as I was earning if not more. We’ve lived a much simpler life for the first 18 months since leaving the UK and managed to almost eradicate our debts, hopefully next month the last credit card will be cleared and we’ll finally be back at zero. I cannot tell you how good that will feel, what a weight will be lifted.

Going into this pandemic with a mountain of debt, would have been crippling. The old adage you’re only three pay checks away from bankruptcy or homelessness would have been very real.

Life is still so uncertain, nothing can be taken for granted especially given my industry – hospitality – has been one of the hardest hit and seems to have been singled out for a regular beating by government policies that aren’t based on science or evidence.

I also have no idea when I’ll be heading home or seeing my husband again.

But appreciate things could be a lot worse, so thanking my lucky stars and trying to roll with the punches and figure out a new plan for maybe the 100th time this year.

As I contemplate my next move nursing half a cider in my old local, the only thing I’m sure of is I wouldn’t want to be spending the winter of discontent that is coming, here or in what was my life 2 years ago.


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