1 More Saffa | Morning cattle herding

My first day in the London job market came and went without any balloons and celebrations I deemed essential. As much as I begged the Sunday before to stand still, my time capsule failed. However, despite the hours racing by leaving me to fall into ready slumber with alarm set bright and early; at least my taste buds managed a quick two-step with the pure sanctity of a Sunday roast. With years of tradition decorated with soldiers and captains, the Sunday roast is a prerequisite for any pub in London.

We found our way to Duke on the Green in Parsons Green and planted our rain-bidden bodies in front of the fireplace. With a selection of lamb, chicken and duck; accompanied with Yorkshire pudding, duck fat roasted potatoes and organic vegetables, I was in heaven. There is never enough gravy, but it still sank into my mouth with every wish fulfilled. While the rain chilled the air outside, the warmth of pub company, prosecco and red roasted meat, perfected the end to a successful week.

At 6 o’clock the next morning, it was all systems go:

• Wash hair
• Shave
• Make coffee
• Treat my newly acquired dry London skin
• Dry hair
• Put my face on
• Find that corporate outfit
• Realise I should have sewn the pants on my work pants the day before
• Find new corporate outfit
• Dry hair again as my panic in dressing created a sweaty forehead — and no girl likes curly baby hair springing out your side parting
• Fill your stomach with the delight of all bran (a must in my digestive world)
• Do a checklist of everything you need including oyster card, route plan and house keys
• Leave

Oh wait — and never forget your umbrella!

And then it was the introduction to rush hour. My jaw dropped as I watched the herds of people ploughing themselves into the buses and trains like their contents were as big as a Mary Poppins’s bag. Every time I convinced myself there was no possible way someone else could squeeze in, I was proved wrong. I had to quickly adapt to the herding manoeuvres of robotic employees. Coats on, earphones in and iphone or androids in hand, each person filtered through the crowds, waited at the bus stops or tube stops, and when signaled to stand clear of the doors, launched into the can of sardines. Not having the best temperature regulation, I realised it would be vital to take my coat off before squeezing amongst the heat of packed cattle.

 Vauxhall rail station

Overcoming the crowds and systemised nature of morning goers, I landed on Oxford street. Thank goodness the shops are not yet open when I am expected at work and so the ‘slightly’ empty street allowed me to breathe and stroll to the doors of employment. With a quick induction, I was thrown in front of my computer and work station. Everything in the office is clean and pristine. My desk is crying for some paperwork and perhaps a plant to give a little life to the two computer screens looming over me. But none the less, I found that although I had had seven months away from the delightful world of Microsoft office, I quickly remembered how to do things and started my introductions to the team. Five days in, and one week is over! I seemed to have gathered enough information on the project to start me off and have glided my way through the four floors; meeting the necessary people and getting them to know who would be hounding them for their work and efficiency.

I realised I could do this. With my brain going into work mode, I would now be able to feel like I am officially living in London. Dressing smart and with beautiful buildings around, the only drawback is the journey home. I will never forget the joy of jumping into your car and being home within half an hour. However, with new horizons, restaurants and the strength of the pound and its magic, it’s time for the working girl to do her thing in the week. Every hour worked will be a little money earned and oh the things I will be able to taste and see!