So they lived happily ever after and made love every Wednesday and Saturday. And there was much rejoicing.
Just thought I might try beginning with an ending for a change. And since that went quite well I can carefree jump to the second part.
As boldly stated in the small print above I am an immigrant and not an Englishman. Luckily there’s more to me than just these two things – well, one to be exact since the latter is stating what I am not. I’m also a videographer, filmmaker and photographer and a wannabe writer. Sounds pretty artsy now that I read it. Always enjoying smell of books and a pint of good beer. Doesn’t really need to be a crafted one. So long as it flows nicely. And I have a beard. And that’s pretty much it.
I’ve been minding the gaps for five months now spending lovely foggy mornings and sunny-ish afternoons commuting to and from work. Still trying to get my head around how huge and crowded the Queen’s patio is – one does usually not travel more than half an hour to work in Slovenia – but slowly getting a grip on it.
I’ll try and keep the blog as up to date as possible, not entirely sure which way it’s going to choose. Whichever it’s going to be I’ll try and steer it in an interesting one.
And here I am, already at the third part.
Nope, I have no ideas how many parts of this post there are going to be.
A precise and careful reader might have already noticed that I came here about five months ago. One month after my leap of faith my girlfriend joined me. We both found jobs pretty quickly and are now together discovering and uncovering the joys and the dark pits of trying to make it in a completely new environment.
So I guess that’s what this blog will be about. An immigrant’s guide to living in London. A day – many of them actually – in a life of an immigrant if you will.
I would very much like to stick the famous Police song but it’s kind of geographically and ethnically incorrect.
Luckily mr. Nutini moved to London a while ago and wrote a perfect song for this occasion.
Stick around it’ll be interesting. I promise.
Not An Englishman 