Christmas 2008 newsletter

Money's tight
Times are hard
Here's your naught-eight
Christmas card...

Apologies for only sending an e-card this year, but postage from the UK to the US is astronomical!

2008 started on a sad note: Alex the iguana passed away in February.  She was 17 years old and graced the cover of every Christmas card from 1994 to 2005.

As you're probably aware, 2006 was a low point for me, and most of 2007 was spent recovering.  If you're not aware: I spent my life's savings restoring an historic property that was in my wife's family, with the intent of moving there and opening a bed and breakfast. When it was finished, however, we got divorced instead, and I ended up with no money, no job, no car, and no home.

That's not entirely true: I still had a home because the house in LA had been on the market for over 6 months without a single offer. Unfortunately, I'd already borrowed almost all of its equity--in fact, I was over a million dollars in debt--so I had to sell the house fast. I decided to get rid of the popcorn ceilings, refresh the kitchen and change the carpet -- things that had been on my to do list for about ten years. For the next four months I was living in my own house with no furnishings save for an inflatable bed, two suitcases, and a mini-fridge. My neighbor loaned me a frying pan, a knife, and a can opener so I could cook. I had no car, no WiFi, the house was a construction zone, and my life was in limbo. That was the worst part, not being able to move on, and I was really depressed. Even though I had to walk everywhere, I put on 35 pounds.

It got even more bizarre: When the work was finished, I hired someone to “stage” the house, which meant she put in furniture, paintings, decorations, etc.  Now I was living in my own house with somebody else's stuff and--contractually--I couldn't even sit on the sofa! (I did, anyway.)

The house finally sold in February 2007 for $50,000 less than I'd hoped, so when I say I was flat broke I'm not exaggerating. At the age of 37, I was starting over completely, with no money, no home and no job. So I decided to move to London.

I know it sounds crazy (it was), but I figured if I had to start over, I should do it differently. I thought about all the places I could move to and the only US city that appealed to me was San Francisco, and the only English-speaking country that appealed to me was the UK.

However, for the UK work permit I needed proof of employment for the past 12 months, which I couldn't provide because of the bed and breakfast, so I moved in with my mom (at 37!) and looked for a job in San Francisco. About two weeks later a friend offered me a job in LA. I'd already said I was never going to move back to LA, but after two weeks with my mom, I took it.

One of the things that appealed to me was it was working in downtown LA. I hadn't worked there in 12 years, the homeless outnumbered the residents, but for some reason I loved downtown LA. I rented a funky loft with a spectacular view and a 10 minute walk to work and relied on public transportation. All of my friends thought I was crazy to live in LA without a car but I saw more and did more in that one year than I'd ever done. (And Dawn and I were known for doing things!) I got to experience a whole different side of Los Angeles, and while it didn't make me want to stay, it did make me feel like I wasn't running away.

After working for 12 months, I reapplied for a UK work permit and got it. I quit my job, packed everything into three suitcases, reserved a hotel in London for two weeks, and left. I didn't even have a job lined up, but the economy was booming so I wasn't too worried. That was May 2008. By June the UK economy had collapsed in the "Great Financial Crash."

The night before I left, some friends invited me to a group dinner and I mentioned my crazy plans, and someone said her daughter lived in London and worked in IT, and gave me her phone number. I tried calling her before I left but she never returned my call. I called again when I arrived (and had a local phone number) but she again didn't return my call, so I gave up. I started talking to agencies and sending out my CV and getting to know London. About three weeks later, Jess called me back. Feeling guilty, and knowing I was vegetarian, she offered to buy me lunch at a cafe near Primrose Hill. We met on a Sunday afternoon in June and I was immediately smitten. She was about 18 months younger, with a soft South African accent. (She'd move to London as a teenager.) I didn't want to blow it by talking about my ex-wife, my finances or anything that had happened in the last two years. Naturally, she opened the conversation with, “Are you married?” followed by, “Why did you move to London?” Of course I told her everything.

I was very surprised, then, when she agreed to a proper date. I had butterflies all week and felt like a teenager. The thing is, I'd never dated, I just fell into relationships. I had no idea how to behave but I knew how I felt, so I went with that and hoped I didn't scare her off. During the date I held her hand and after the date I kissed it, and it was all over for me.

She was quite shy and didn't want any photos of her, which meant that for six months I was sending emails to friends and family saying, "I've fallen in love, but I don't have any pictures of her!" I'm sure they all thought I was lying, so in December I brought her back to California with me. In eight days, she met most of my family and about 50 of my friends and co-workers.


So I got a girlfriend but not a job. I kept getting interviews but when I'd call a week later, I was told they had a hiring freeze, or they'd gone out of business. In addition, the week after I transferred all of my savings to the UK, the pound fell 25%! So what I thought would see me through four months only saw me through three months. By August I was seriously considered moving back to the States, but that's when the US economy tanked.

Thankfully I was able to get some money from my IRA and, after three months, I moved out of the hotel and subletted a flat from a woman who had a six-month project in Africa. As summer transitioned to winter, I thought I was going to hate it, but in fact I loved London even more. The only remaining step is to find work, no mean feat given that unemployment here is at a 20-year high.

Happy holidays and best wishes for the new year.

Funny I didn't mention I'd proposed to Jessica in November, on Primrose Hill. She turned me down, saying "it's too soon." Between that, lack of employment, lack of money, being so far from my family and knowing I had to move again in February, I started into a real downward spiral....