It's around that time for a boring and mindless update about life in the UK since my last relevent post, and luckily I have a short amount of time to kill before The Boy gets home from work (and I begin slow-cooked streaky bacon, eggs and toast - the Canadian breakfast/supper).

Job hunting here is likely the most difficult task I have ever taken on. It seems that merit is giving for acheivements in the workplace, not so much for duties performed. As a Canadian who has spent years cultivating a list of 'look how important and entrusted I am' duties on paper, this came as a bit of a shocker and left me reassessing my entire career history to date over several days (and dozens of cigarettes and cups of Sainsbury's finest). Having now rewritten and revamped my entire resume/CV and cover letter, I spent the majority of the day sending them out to as many prospective employers as humanly possible. Lets face it: I am not cut out for this housewife nonsense, and if I do one more load of laundry that I have to hang around the house to dry, I might strangle myself with a pair of boxer shorts. Fingers are crossed.

Socialising in this country, however, is the easiest aspect of living here. For a country so famous for being snooty and obnoxious, I've yet to experience the true stereotypical englishman/woman. I only wish that my liver had a slight bit more strength than it does, because after two glasses of cheap wine and lemonade I am ready for bed, not a singalong in the kitchen of "cheesey 90's tunes". All the same, I am glad I remained conscious long enough to witness a room full of Brit's belting out 'Ride wit Me'. If only these people were unemployed and bored to the point of hoovering like I have become.

That's all I've got right now. Pork and protein are calling my name, and the conservatory I am sitting in is so warm right now it is almost unfathomable.