I have been so incredibly irritated at things lately - particularly some things happening at work, which I refuse to delve into here. Suffice it to say that it's left me feeling down, and counting down the hours until I come home and back to my little safe place. That feeling I get when I'm on the bus and on the way home is what is keeping me together; knowing that in just a few minutes, I'll be home.

Home.

I'm still in two minds when it comes to home. For one, home is here. It's where J is; it's where Oscar is, it's where I can relax and switch off and just. stop. thinking. At the moment, that home is our rented little flat in a terrace building in West London, with its beautiful high ceilings and wooden floorboards. Prior to this, home was our apartment near Canary Wharf, with its ground floor (and somewhat pointless) balcony and bathroom that always smelled slightly of mould.

But then, in two weeks time, I am going home. Home, home! To the place where my friends are, where my family is, and where J and I will eventually head back to.

This next two weeks can't go by fast enough. I can't wait to go home.

I had a dream last night that I was organising the last few favours from our wedding and it was just around the corner. Ironic really, since we don't even have a date set - so that 'corner' is going to be unknown for a little while longer yet! But it made me think about what I do have going on so far... lots of little bits and pieces that will hopefully come together over the next few months.

Mostly I've been focusing on what I want in terms of inspiraton. Since our engagement last August, I've prowled the internet and bookmarked a whole stack of ideas that I love, and kept a notebook of my own little additions. Unfortunately thanks to the great laptop crash of 2010, I lost my bookmarks - so I'm starting from scratch in that respect. But! I do have quite a lot planned during the next few weeks.

Remember I said I was going back to Sydney? Well, somehow the months have flown past (yay!) and it's nearly Easter... meaning I'm heading back home in just under three weeks exactly! It's only for a 2-week vacation and I've quite literally had to make myself an itinerary just to make sure I fit everything in. The purpose of the visit (aside from catching up with friends & family, of course!) is WEDDING.

I'm on a mission. I want a venue that WOWS me (and preferably has fairy lights) and I want a church that is beautiful and classic and old-fashioned. I want a photographer who is awesome and amazing and can make me into something gorgeous. (I think I've already found him... but just need to meet him first and make sure he doesn't think I'm insane.) I want a DATE. Those are my big things.

So! I have squished in loads of visits to reception venues, all over Sydney. Some in the city, though not many because GOOD LORD it's expensive to get married in the city... and some out of the city. Some in hotels, some in homesteads, some in golf courses - quite literally, a taste of everything. I want to be able to have the options, so that when I walk into the one, I'll know, and the search will be over.

I am so excited, I can't even begin to express it. Squee! Wedding! Organising! Yay! I'll be sure to take lots of pictures and share the planning with you guys along the way...

And speaking of weddings, sending happy wedding day wishes to the lovely Lacey!

So technology hates me.

My laptop has been dying a long and painful death for the past few months now, every so often freezing up and letting out these horrible beeping noises. Not pleasant for anyone involved, let me tell you. The perks of having a computer literate other half is that I can always count on him to check things out for me.

Sadly, things didn't work out quite that easily.

While we were backing up my laptop onto the external hard drive we've had since we arrived in London, J's foot got tangled in the cords and it fell off the coffee table and onto the floor - and stopped working. As in, totally died, mid transfer. Picture panic. All of our files, all of our photos from the last three years, all of J's coding for work - gone. Luckily most of the bits and pieces we had kept on our laptops, but we then had to fork out cash for a new hard drive.

The next day, J started the reformatting process, and (as I'm sure you've guessed by now) my laptop decided that was the perfect time to move on to computer heaven. OMG. I miss it. I got quite attached to my shiny silver Dell-ilah over the last three years, and being without a laptop at home always makes me realise just how much I take it for granted.

Thank goodness for my iPhone, but still... I cannot wait for my new machine to be delivered, because I am still horrendous at typing on it, even after three months. It has, however, led me back to my Twitter account (add me!) which is a bonus; I'd forgotten all about it.

Fingers crossed my new laptop will come before the weekend - I'll do my best to catch up on the blogging world then!

It's amazing how much time J and I spend playing around with Oscar, especially on weekends that we are chilling out at home.

Oscar is a constant source of entertainment and has grown up to be quite the talker. It helps having treats around; he goes bananas for them and always has us in stitches.

(He's also a daddy's boy. Can you tell? It's disgusting. Really.)

I was standing in the bedroom this morning putting away laundry and I randomly had a flashback.

I remembered an afternoon spent in Florida in the summer of 2008. My friend Carly and I were on a mission to hunt down some quarters for the washing machine. Our hotel was a regular old budget one in Orlando, and was quite a maze. It had loads of wings of rooms, that all looked the same; it was easy to get lost in it.

Carly and I were on our way to the reception desk, when a freak batch of rain came out of nowhere and quite literally had us drenched. It was humid, so humid, and I remembered Carly and I laughing hysterically as we ran around in the pouring rain trying to find our way. I remembered the front desk staff feeling sorry for us and lending us a couple of spare towels, and I remembered the dozens of frogs that appeared out of nowhere and were croaking up a storm. I remembered laughing until my belly ached.

Why did I remember this today? I have absolutely no idea. But it's funny, because it is one I should probably have written down way back when, before it disappeared from my memory.

I guess that leads into this post. I worry that before I know it, my time in London will be coming to an end and there will be dozens of everyday memories that are lost. So, I want to try something. I want to try capturing a snapshot each day, even on the most boring of days, and try to remember it all.

So let's get sharing, starting with the most recent picture I have - from last night's dinner at Ping Pong. I'm not usually big on yum cha, since I am the world's fussiest eater and hate all things seafoody and veggie, but I had a go and picked some random items off the menu.. and ended up loving it!

I love hearing about engagements. I love reading proposal stories and I love seeing how thought out, or how random and spontaneous, they are. In the midst of my latest quest to learn about all things wedding, I've been trawling through photography websites and I always (always!) end up hunting for the ring shots.

Rings are just so personal, you know? They are so different for everyone - there's no one perfect ring. The important stuff is what goes into the purchasing, creating or handing-down of the ring, and that's why they mean what they mean. But then there's the creation itself: what style, what size, what colour, what cost? For some, it's a whopping two-carat piece of bling. For others, it's a simple gold wedding band. Maybe it's both? Maybe it's neither.

I remember the first ring Jason gave me, as an anniversary present a good few years back. It was a beautiful ring, and one that I still own - a white gold band with a gorgeous little diamond stone. I remember sometimes, on the sly of course, parading around with it on my left hand, trying it on for size and seeing what it felt like to have a ring there. I remember thinking how perfect it was, and wishing that it was an engagement ring.

And more recently in my 'woe! I am not engaged yet' phase, I remember hunting down my future non-existant engagement ring. I found one I liked on the internet and eventually went and checked it out in person. In more than one store. On more than one occasion. In more than one continent. (What? We were in the vicinity of Tiffany & Co on 5th Avenue! How could I not check it out!)

If you're curious, this is the ring I lusted over for a very long time.

I know what you're thinking, right? Bling! High hopes much? But believe it or not, I'm not a big girly girl. I didn't specifically want a ring from that store. I just liked the style, and figured it was a starting point. I saved it to my bookmarks. I may have even dropped the occasional subtle (?) hint every now and again. I think I may have even dragged Jase into the Bond St store here in London, casually hinting that 1-carat would be just fine, thanks.

(Oh my goodness, just typing that makes me feel like such a cow. I had no shame!)

It's not the ring that I'm wearing on my finger right now.

The boy tells me that he went and checked out my dream ring and wasn't that impressed with it in person. He then went on to choose one that he liked, and that he thought I'd like too. I have loads of people asking me how he chose it, and at the end of the day - it was all him. I think that's what I love the most. I love that he knew me well enough to know I'd love the ring, regardless of me never laying eyes on it before.

At the end of the day, whether he proposed to me with my dream ring or with a token gesture, my response would have been exactly the same: something along the lines of 'OH MY GOD! ARE YOU SERIOUS? OH MY GOD. QUICK! PUT IT AWAY!' (We were standing near water, people. I was terrified it was going to fling off my hand and into the murky depths, or something.)

I got my token gesture. I wore my £10 ring with pride while my official ring was resized. For nearly three months, I proudly flashed that hand and shared our happy news.

The rest is history.

My engagement ring is the perfect fit for me - in all senses of the word.

I haven't known you all that long, but I think you're a pretty cool person. I'm looking forward to getting to know you better over the coming months.

You are a very cool person. I wish I was more like you. Sometimes I worry that the feeling isn't mutual and that you don't feel the same way about our friendship as I do. Thanks for being there for me.

You were always a friend to me, but some things you've done lately have really thrown me and left me feeling deflated. I wonder if you even have a clue how hurt I am with the way you've been acting? I'm always the one who automatically assumes that the problem lies with me - well, I'm over that now. Either you grow some balls and tell me what your problem is, or I'm done trying to figure you out.

I hate the way your friend is treating you. You are a genuinely lovely person and you deserve so much better than that. I hope that you realise that! I wish that you lived in Sydney, so that you'd be there when I go home.

You're all I want, you're all I need, you're everything.

I wish that we could go back in time and change how things are with you. We had it all once, we all did, and now it's seemingly unfixable. I wish that you, and me, and the others, could all sort it out. Yes, it'd be hard and yes, it'd probably take a while to get back there, but aren't some things worth fighting for? I hate that things have turned out this way. I wish I could wave a magic wand and sort it out. Instead, I'm stuck and I don't know where we go from here.

I wish you and I hung out more often. I miss how things used to be with us, and I hardly ever see you anymore. I loved having a laugh with you over a cider at the pub. I wonder if you miss that too?

You are going to go on and do great things! I am sure of it. I know that all the hardships and the worries will pay off, and you'll achieve everything you hope for. You've got talent, and on top of that you're an amazing person. It will all work out, and then I will point and say 'Aha! I told you so.' And then I will hug you and we will go on and do great things together.

Thank you so, so much. You guys are amazing and I don't know how I can ever repay you - in both the financial sense, and in the support sense. I'm a really lucky girl.

I am sorry. I've said it before, and I'll probably say it to you again. I am sorry. I wish things had turned out differently. There's only so many times I can apologise, and you know what? It wouldn't hurt for you to tell me that you are too. We may never fix things, but I'm trying and I'm not done yet. I am sorry. I miss you.

I have the world's tiniest little cut on the tip of my tongue.

I bit it the other day, and it's been hurting ever since.

Now that I've noticed it, I keep running my tongue against my teeth and wow, it hurts.

It's really, really irritating me.

Did I mention that it hurts?

IT REALLY HURTS.

... and that's about all I've got to say about that.

In other news, our internet connection is on the fritz, meaning that a post this long is about all it can handle right now. I promise to never take the interwebs for granted again, when our new router gets installed, that is. Sad face.

I miss teaching.

There, I've said it. Teaching. I miss it.

Before this little adventure abroad, I taught in Western Sydney for two years as a newly qualified teacher. They were two years at a great and supportive little school that showed me the ropes and made me feel completely comfortable with myself in that role. Some days were rewarding and some days were more challenging than I can remember but even still, they were two fantastic years.

When J & I discussed moving to the UK, I knew my time at that school would be coming to an end, but I was excited to be doing something I never dreamed I'd actually do - to uproot myself from my comfortable routine and to live overseas!

After a telephone interview lined up by a recruitment agency, I was offered the first job I applied for. A Year 3 class quite a way out of London in an average, run of the mill primary school. I stayed confident. I was excited. I left my lovely little classroom (with its decorated walls and labelled book trays) and said goodbye to the staff I'd grown to know and respect, and I stepped off the plane at Heathrow ready to throw myself into the teaching world over here.

I got a rude shock that day.

Needless to say, I didn't go back. I did casual supply teaching in a few different schools before landing in a nice block, covering relief across the school, but it didn't feel right. After a few short months, I was looking into other options in education - and soon found my current role. Now I'm on the other side of the desk, working in the education field but in recruitment. After a while, I was offered a different role, acting as a coordinator for newly arrived international teachers.

I work with teachers every day. They are teachers who are quite literally mirroring my exact journey over two years ago. They've come from Australia, or New Zealand, or Canada. They're probably more than a little terrified. They either have jobs lined up for them in schools, or they're relying on casual work to get them through. I support them, I help them transition into a whole new environment - from the minute they step off the plane and get acclimatized into the UK, to their first steps into the classroom over here. I've helped primary teachers. I've helped secondary teachers. I've helped preschool & nursery teachers. I've helped teaching assistants.

But at the end of the day, I'm working for the man (every night and day!*)

I'm not in that classroom myself. I don't have a class full of kidlets to call my own, to be with every day - the good ones and the horrendously bad ones. I don't have the work to take home with me, or the planning, the crazy amount of planning to do in the holidays. I don't have the organisation, of setting goals each term and assessing against those goals.

I just feel like I'm missing something. I'm not saying I'm an amazing teacher. I'm certainly not the most experienced teacher, and I never even had a permanent job - so I have nothing to fall back on. At the very least, I'm an out of practice teacher thanks to my time here in London. But I loved what I could do in the classroom and I loved seeing what my kidlets could do, and I kind of want that back.

I don't know.

I don't know how I'm going to get what I want. It's not the right time or place, or heck, even the right country, to be thinking about this. All I know is that the quarter life crisis I thought I'd averted? May still be looming in the distance.

*I couldn't resist a little bit of Proud Mary. It soothes the soul.

Oh, I have been a glum little chicken lately.

Luckily I have been kept busy with work stuff and little errands that pass the time. I'm really looking forward to this weekend, keeping cosy indoors and doing a little wedding planning with Jason. Alright, well, it'll probably just be me doing that, because it makes me happy, but that's the loose plan at least! Lately the weekends feel like they've been few and far between.

But rather than continuing with the Whingy McWhinge routine, check out these babies! I'm kind of in love with them as a) they're cute, b) the heel is low enough that I can actually walk a few steps in them without keeling over and c) um, did I mention they're cute!? I may or may not be contemplating going back to the store and buying them in every colour because seriously... love.

And that's all it takes to make me suddenly feel just the teensiest bit better about things.