Choose Life

In the next couple of weeks, I have to make a really big decision. I have to make the kind of choice that could have drastic consequences and change my life forever. As I am a typical Sagittarian who is flighty, indecisive and changeable, this decision is proving to be really tough.

Here in the UK I have a stable job, a lovely flat, fabulous friends and a fairly comfortable lifestyle (Well, by that I mean I can visit Primani with a clear conscience). But I'm still restless. In the first posting of this blog, I vowed that I would take this year to make myself happy. It's now the time of the year when teachers start looking for new jobs. I've applied for one in Dubai and am scouring the internet for others.

If I got this job, I would be moving to a country which is warmer and could offer a better lifestyle. I would work less hours, teach smaller classes and get paid more. But more importantly, I've come to realise lately that I'm working so hard my life is passing me by. I don't want to turn around in ten years time and realise that I'm forty and all I've done with my life is devoted it to other people's kids. (And done one helluva lot of paperwork... whoopee!)

My Dad recently asked me where I see myself in five years time. The problem is, I don't know. I really don't know what I want. There isn't really anything to keep me here, in the sense of  not having kids (not biological ones anyway) or any responsibilities that I can't walk away from. I could quite easily go abroad. This country is expensive, cold, and stressful. Teachers' pensions are being cut and the cost of living is soaring.

I regularly work a twelve hour day and then spend an hour lying on the sofa watching rubbish TV before falling into bed exhausted. I keep wondering if this is all there is down for me – working a 50 plus hour week and then working all day on a Sunday marking coursework doesn't seem right. I really don't want to moan and rant about how crap my life is but the hours I'm working at the moment do seem a bit excessive. On the rare nights I'm not working, I'm too tired to make the most of the time I have. My job, I'm sure, is a direct contributor to the fact that I haven't met any nice men for ages. At the moment, I feel like my life has come to a standstill, a full stop. I don't like being stationary, running all day but not getting anywhere except exhausted.

And yet I've worked really hard to put down roots in this area. I like the fact that I've built such strong relationships with the students at my school and the other staff that I work with. I live in a really beautiful part of the country and own a lovely flat. I suppose I've just come to realise that having a successful and frantically busy career comes at a cost to one's personal life, health and general well-being.

I am afraid of all the things I'll miss if I go abroad.  However, I remember a conversation I had with my friend S whilst living in Oman. She was listing all the things she missed about the UK. She mentioned crisp Autumn mornings, crunching through fallen leaves and cosy country pubs. Then she paused and said 'But I've just realised that I hate the cold, rarely walk through fallen leaves and don't go to the pub that much either.' The ideas of the UK that she was holding in her mind was fantasy, not real. It was an idealized view of the life she had left behind.

I have been considering just quitting my job and then seeing what happens. I could rent my flat out, do a TEFL course and go travelling. The idea is tempting. I can see myself mincing around on a beach somewhere, or doing a Julia Roberts in 'Eat Pray Love' and cycling along a road that runs through a paddy field, wearing a white trouser suit and looking radiant. The problem is though, that real life isn't like that. In real life, I'd probably be covered in humongous mosquito bites and looking all sweaty. Knowing me, I'd probably be cycling fast to the nearest toilet after partaking too enthusiastically of the local cuisine.

I'm hoping that something will happen soon. Something will happen to give me a sign of what I should do. Someone will offer me some pearls of wisdom about the meaning of life and all that. If only a fairy god mother would descend from the sky, wave a magic wand and make the decision for me.

So, where do you see yourself in five years time? What picture do you have in your mind? In my picture, although I can't say exactly where I am, I'm definitely not lying on the sofa, reading Star magazine and watching Gok's Fashion Fix. There's got to be more to life than that......hasn't there?

Money, money, money....

Money. It doesn't matter, does it? Surely, it's what's on the inside that counts? Well, I'll refer you to that bit in Pride and Prejudice when Lizzie Bennett sees Mr Darcy's estate for the first time and realises that she might just fancy him after all. And please remember that Lizzie Bennett isn't a gold digger by any means. She's the most independent of the Bennett sisters. She's an intelligent woman. She could see that Mr Darcy had the complete - and very large - package...(it was the white breeches...!)

Seriously though, so many relationships break down over the issue of money. Being skint brings out the worst in people. It makes them bitter, miserable and angry. My first proper job in London was as a sales person for a holiday company. I was on fifteen and a half grand a year and it was absolutely horrific. I was living with my boyfriend who was working in Wetherspoons and earning about half as much as me. I couldn't afford to pay the TV license and I distinctly remember hiding upstairs with the lights off when the TV licensing people rang the doorbell. Living in one of the most exciting cities in the world but being so poor was not fun at all.

Speak to anyone who has spent night after night lying next to their partner, staring at the ceiling and wondering how they're going to make rent that month. Or spending their life in a monotonous cycle of work/supermarket/home and never being able to afford to do anything because they simply can't afford it. As someone who spent the last part of her marriage supporting her partner and getting little in return except grief, I am now whole-heartedly looking for a man who has more than ''four hundred pounds a year.'' And a country pile wouldn't go amiss either....

Do I want to find someone who can match me in terms of salary and make my life easier financially than it currently is? Yes. Does this make me a bad person? I don't think so. I would like to find someone who doesn't suck his teeth and look worried when the bill for the two margherita pizzas and bottle of house wine arrives. Or make you pay for it because he's 'forgotten' his wallet. It happened. More than once. However, with the man in question, I don't think this was actually because he was skint. It was because he was stingy.

I absolutely hate stingy men. I think it's the biggest turn off ever. On the first date, I believe that the man should pay. Of course, I'll offer to split the bill, but I would think it odd if he was to agree. Later on, I'll happily pay the bill, but at the beginning, I want to feel that the man is happy to spend money on taking me out.

On a Sunday, scrubbing the shower, I am angry that I can't afford a cleaner. I would love to come home and find the house clean and tidy. I would also love to be able to afford to get my hair dyed at a salon rather than doing it myself in the bathroom. (Actually, I've probably spent a small fortune on new bath mats and so doing it myself is probably a false economy...)

I started thinking about this difficult issue of money because a friend of mine has been trying to set me up with a friend of hers. I looked at his picture on Facebook and didn't particularly fancy him. Then she told me that he earns around seventy five thousand a year. Instantly, I perked up. His substantial salary made him seem, to me, instantly more attractive. Actually...maybe I'm not shallow after all, maybe it's not the money. Maybe it's the fact that to have a high paying job one must be ambitious, have drive and be intelligent, all qualities that I value? This guy is a police detective and I do find that quite impressive. The idea of him bashing down a door and shouting 'Police' makes me feel a bit funny. Also I can imagine him questioning someone, in his shirtsleeves and sporting one of those cool sets of braces that hold a gun, like Brad Pitt in 'Seven'... mmmmm....Actually, knowing my luck he probably looks less Hollywood and more Sun Hill.

Now, here's the unfeminist bit we're not supposed to admit to. Please don't think badly of me when you read this...

Sometimes I do fantasize about having a rich husband who buys me jewellery and a beautiful house complete with a live-in housekeeper. On a cold winter evening, when I climb the stairs to my flat after a twelve hour day at work, arms weighed down with supermarket shopping and unmarked A-Level portfolios, I think how nice it would be to have money so I didn't have to work quite so bloody hard. I am, as the phrase goes 'having it all' but sometimes, 'it' is just too much. On the days when I'm so tired that making an omelette for tea seems like a major mission, being a lady who lunches seems like a really attractive option. Do you hate me?