A British Exit

It's time to say goodbye to London, at least for the foreseeable future.

After over 5 years of making London my home, building a network, a career, a life, in just a few short weeks, I'll have to be on my way.

(Trying to accurately put my thoughts and emotions into something coherent has proven to be quite difficult, so this is a stab at it in the most diplomatic way I could).

Fresh faced in 2008

When I moved to London I was 18, fresh out of high school with a keen interest in art, and didn't know a soul in this city - my closest connection was my brother, who lived in Edinburgh. Five years later and I've gotten a degree, gone through 2 career changes (art to social tech to food) including starting my own freelancing business, seen and experienced more culture and art than I could have imagined, had more crazy adventures and serendipitous moments than I thought possible, tackled some hard times and enjoyed some really amazing ones. Most importantly, I've amassed a network and community of wonderful people - a boy I love dearly, friends who are more like a second family, acquaintances who have opened up dozens of new worlds to me, professional connections who have taught me shitloads and helped get me as far as I have - all of whom make this place feel like home. Since telling people I'm leaving, I've been flooded with messages, some from close friends, and many from people I've only met twice or haven't spoken to in years, sending condolences over the visa plight and well wishes for the future.

At a recent popup in 2013

Over the last half decade, the laws around visas and immigration have gotten increasingly tighter and more difficult to fit within - I've seen several friends have to leave along the way because they couldn't tick the right boxes, despite starting their own businesses, excelling in their fields, having degrees and being from financially stable backgrounds. A friend of mine had to go back to Australia only a few months after opening up a cafe with 3 partners, because in the time after they opened, the entrepreneurial visa requirements jumped from £50k to £250k, and despite the fact that they'd started a food business in an otherwise disused shopfront, had a solid 3 years business plan and investment, were already employing 5 people, getting rave reviews and becoming a neighbourhood favourite, it apparently wasn't a strong enough case to allow him to stay.

I've always been lucky to just miss the latest belt tightenings - I was the last year of international students to get a full 3 year visa and one of the last rounds to qualify for the post-study work visa. This time though, my luck has run out.

I could have gotten sponsored, and nearly did. Nine months into starting my own freelancing popups and catering (where I was running between 2-4 events every week), I was asked to come work as sous-chef at a soon to open restaurant/gallery space of giant proportions. I was there for two and a half months, a month or so of planning and prepping, and for the first month and a half of it's existence. I quit last week. There were a number of reasons why I decided to leave which I will not go into here, but the culmination of it all is best expressed by a friend who saw me in my last week of work - describing me, in so many words, as "a shell of my former self." Apathetic, unhappy, exhausted, broken, burnt out. The thought of being tethered to something that made me like that wasn't a sacrifice I was willing to make to stay in the country.

So where does that leave me? Without a sponsor, my other options for visas are varied, but generally off limits to me. I may be an entrepreneur, but I don't have a quarter of a million in the bank. I may be promising in my field, but don't have the world recognition required for an Exceptionally Talented visa. I could apply to do another degree, but that's £15k on top of living expenses just to stay in the country for another year, only to deal with the same problem in a year's time. A couple of years ago, I could have applied as a Highly Skilled Migrant Worker, but that visa category is now closed, and I haven't had a high enough salary to qualify for the general work visa. Every avenue I've looked at has been met with a roadblock. Even getting married isn't a probable option.

To be fair, I'm by no means a total sob story - I'm incredibly lucky to have a loving and supportive family, savings in the bank, a home to go back to, plenty of potential opportunities and the ability to return to visit and hopefully come back more permanently again someday, but I'm also not an uncommon one. There are lots of us - enthusiastic, entrepreneurial, skilled people who want to make the UK their home (despite the weather), want to contribute to society and the economy and create something meaningful, but lack the stringent tick boxes required to fit within the current visa laws.

There is a serious gap in the visa system for people like me - a few years into their professional careers, perhaps just starting to venture out into their own businesses and projects, but without the financial or experiential leverage to qualify for the next step up in the visa ladder.

(To add salt to the wound - after working non-stop for the restaurant for 2.5 months, and not promoting or touching my popup in the slightest, I've had to turn down five unsolicited potential clients this week alone, as I won't be in the country for their events.)

If it's not at least a little scary, it's not worth doing.

Trawling through my 'Documents' folder for who knows what, I stumbled across an unfinished bit of writing whose file name caught my eye - "If it's not at least a little scary..." It was a piece I started as part of a joint newsletter-type publication call "The Carrier" which a friend began to help those of us with difficult to define jobs share with friends and family what it is we actually do day to day. For one reason or another, either due to too much work or a bout of writer's block, I never finished it. This is as far as I got - 

If it's not at least a little scary, it's not worth doing. 

This is my mantra for 2013, a constant reminder as to why I left the comfort of a job to venture into the wilderness that is freelancing and pursuing something I’m really passionate about. The other faces that grace the pages of this publication are a constant reminder to me of what people can achieve when they push the boundaries, explore uncharted territory and do the things they love most, and I only hope I can contribute my bit to the entrepreneurial pot. I’ve always done my best work under pressure - rarely starting an essay until the night before it was due at school, getting twice as much done when I’m snowed under than when things are going at an easy pace. 

Have a little fear in your life...

Who knows where my February mind was going next. My August brain will continue it as such - 

The last 8 months have been some of the most difficult, exhausting, challenging, rewarding and incredible of my life. The amount I've learned, the people I've met and the opportunities I've been given are far beyond what I could have ever imagined at the start of the year. In January, I saw The Bream Team as an experiment - a chance to explore the food world, make some connections, gain some experience and learn where I might be able to fit into the food mix. Very quickly, it's become so much more than that. I've been lucky enough to run popups in some pretty amazing spaces (with the Clock Tower at St Pancras probably topping the list, and now a monthly occurrence!), have met some really inspiring people who I now call friends, eaten some amazing food created by said friends, and have even cooked for Delia Smith (afterwards, she asked me for me tart recipe!!!!!)! 

It's also been more emotionally and physically demanding than I ever could have imagined, has made me an incredibly unreliable person to socialise with (not that I would have any money to socialise with...), and time seems to be an endlessly elusive thing. I thank my lucky stars I have friends who continue to invite me to things, regardless of how many times I've had to miss an outing or cancel last minute due to food-related things. Don't get me wrong, I love food and I love working in the food industry, but it's been a completely immersive experience. Being totally immersed in something has it's amazing sides, but it has it's downsides as well. 

As far as the amazing bits go though, I think part of the reason I've been lucky enough to have such opportunities and experiences in such a short time is thanks to this idea of looking for a little sense of fear in everything I chose to do. While I've gotten a lot more comfortable in the kitchen - be it running popups or private catering - every event is a new challenge filled with unexpected hurdles and surprises that are guaranteed to keep me on my toes. The greatest learning experiences I've had have been when agreeing to do events that are one step beyond my past experience - be it for a larger crowd of people, a bespoke menu with unfamiliar dishes, or a time schedule, which 6 months ago, I wouldn't have even fathomed was possible. These types of events usually spin me into a ball of nerves and stress, and find me zigzagging around, worried that this won't turn up or that won't turn out, and yet, by the end of it all, not only do I have such a sense of relief, but I have a new set of skills and 'lessons learnt' under my belt. 

I'm by no means an expert on anything, nor do I claim these to be universal truths, but here are a few of the top things I try to constantly remind myself of - 

• If you decide to jump off the deep end, really go for it - once you've taken that first leap, you may as well keep leaping. 
• Continue to do things a little (or a lot) outside your comfort zone, things that make your stomach tie in a little knot (in a good way). Don't get too comfortable. 
• Do the things you've always wanted to do but never thought you were capable of. 
• Ask for help if you need it - taking a leap into something new can be lonely and overwhelming, and people are more willing to help than you realise. 
• No matter how stressed or busy you get, remember to make time for friends. Even if it's just a 'How are you?' text or a 5 minute phone call, don't lose touch with those that matter most. 
• Be up for anything - help out other people in the industry, make friends and exchange services with others in the same boat, you are all in it together and you'd be amazed at where those exchanges can lead. 

I'm going to stop listing things now, because I don't think I'm old or wise enough to share any more nuggets of potential knowledge at this point. That and this post has gotten to be way too long - extra brownie points if you've made it this far! 

I might be about to take another giant leap, and despite being way out of my depth, if it pulls off, it's sure to be a pretty amazing experience.

A week at NANA

I've been spending the week filling in for my friend Katie, who started up NANA - a comfort food cafe run by older women from the community. Currently run through The Elderfield pub on Elderfield Road (which is a lovely pub with delightful owners, if you are in the area, definitely stop in for a drink in the evening!), the cafe offers up food that reminds you of sitting in your nana's kitchen - dippy eggs and fish finger sandwiches, victoria sponge and treacle tarts, and bottomless cups of tea and coffee served in old china. It's a delightful place with a good heart and I hope it has a long future.

The main cliental at the moment are mums and babies, which makes for the ultimate inter-generational environment, without seeming forced or contrived. So if you are in Lower Clapton and looking for a bit of comfort, NANA is the place to be.

"It's like throwing a birthday party every single time..."

I grabbed a drink with a friend the other day who recently opened up her own cafe. We were chatting about starting up our own projects, both in food, and the difficulties that can go along with it. Halfway through the conversation, she said something that completely embodied my thoughts on the subject -

"It's like throwing your birthday party every single time." 

Not in the "party time, excellent!" kind of way, but in that you spend ages handing out invitations, making goodie bags and blowing up balloons, but are constantly wondering whether anyone will actually come, and if they do, if they'll even have a good time. Loads of people can come and have an amazing night, and you feel on top of the world, or you can find yourself sitting on the couch alone eating your own birthday cake with your hands... I hate organising my own birthday activities - there's always more stress and inevitable disappointment (especially in a city as notoriously flaky as London) than anyone wants. It's a high stakes gambling game, opening up the doors to a project, putting it out there, and finding out what people really think.

Coupled with this, is the idea of going it alone. Both my friend and I have started our respective business/projects on our own, without a partner or permanent staff - hiring and getting help when we need it, but otherwise doing the brunt of the work, worrying, and decision making solo. The thrill of success and burden of failure weigh completely on our shoulders. Our businesses are intrinsically tied to us as people and it's hard not to feel that everything that happens to it is a direct reflection of our own value. Of course, that's not always, and not often the case, but that doesn't change the emotional reaction - be it good or bad. Of course there are nice things about going solo - namely autonomy on decisions and the direction of where things are going, but also being able to run completely on your own schedule, and to play a part in every aspect of what you are creating. However, there are certain things you miss out on - when you have a partner, you have someone to bounce ideas off of, rally together, find humour in difficult moments, and generally a comrade in arms - someone who, even if no one else shows up to the party, you can still get pissed with and have a good time.

I don't mean this as a complaint; it's an amazing thing to be able to start something yourself, and while it can be an emotional rollercoaster, I love the challenge and opportunities that come with the work - I wouldn't want to be doing anything else right now. That's why it's important for people going it alone to support each other, vent the stresses and anxieties, run ideas past, celebrate and commiserate the triumphs and stumbles we experience along the way. Because if you have a good support network, you know that at least a couple people will always be at your party.

Cakes...just because.

Recent baking exploits,
'nuff said.

An overwhelming amount of icing sugar

I've always been a baker - back to when my mom would give me the scraps of a ball of dough to knead and inevitably coat in endless amounts of flour. I've always baked for fun (I went through a banana bread a week phase in my first year of university, I had to stop when my trousers were struggling to button up...), for friend's birthdays, gatherings, etc... but never more than that. I dabbled in a cake stall last spring to mixed results, but otherwise reserved my baking for pop-ups and personal things, until a few weeks ago. I got a call from a friend saying his housemate was opening up a cafe around the corner and they needed a cake supplier. Within a couple hours, I had a fresh out of the oven lemon drizzle cake for them to sample, and by the next day, it was sorted.


Three weeks later, I've been baking 2-3 cakes a week for them (hopefully more as business grows), with each week bringing a new challenge on what to bake next. Because they are brand new and I didn't exactly have a cake list ready to go, we've been testing different cakes every week, seeing what sells best, what tastes best, and what recipes I can pull together that fit the ethos of the cafe - honest, simple, and of a great quality. It's pushing me to expand my baking knowledge, and the chance to hone my skills a bit - they always say practice makes perfect, so these weekly baking sessions surely can't hurt (especially since I'm no longer the one eating all of the results...). The guys at the cafe are brilliant too, up for anything and make THE BEST coffee I've ever had.

Think orange drizzle, carrot, chocolate cinnamon cakes, a treacle tart popped up last weekend, and the Aussie classic, lamingtons, are in the case this week. Supplying cakes is a different beast to baking them for your own purposes - its more about creating something that suits the place that will sell it, something that is eye-catching and appealing from the name and look, enough that people will want to pay actual money for it. If you want to taste some of my ongoing experiments and drink AMAZING coffee (and they have a smashing breakfast and lunch menu too), head over to Embassy East on Hoxton St and check out the disco cake box to see what's on offer.

I suck at keeping blogs...

As this and other failed consecutive writing ventures can attest (my teenage diary seemed to only get filled when I was angsting over a boy), I'm pretty terrible at consistently writing about my own things. I've written a lot of blogs for past jobs, ranging from bios of old hollywood film stars to innovating in the public sector, but when it comes to personal blogging, if I'm lucky I get out a one off rant, collection of photos, or recap of a pop-up, but they are few and far between. These days, most types of regularly scheduled programming send nervous chills down my spine. In a state of transient anti-commitment, my life is currently one of working on about 6 different things (to name them - freelance catering, popups, cake supplier to a cafe, ad hoc kitchen hand, soon to be street food trader, and tentative book proposal writer), few of which can relate to words like 'consistent' and 'regular.' And I'm loving it. Every day is different, everything is a new challenge to tackle and hopefully triumph (and if not, fail and bounce onto the next). My daily learning quota is through the roof and as my scraped hands and weary feet can attest, I feel every ounce of the labour I am putting into these jobs. I finish my days exhausted, and ready to see what the next one brings.

That being said, and not due to any boy angst, it feels like time to pick up the old prose again - chronicle this time in my life where every day seems like a different world, and where for the first time, there is no set plan or agenda on what's supposed to happen next. It's time to resurrect the blog. I can't guarantee regular entries or anything of particular use or purpose, but I can guarantee strange ramblings of a rambler, pictures of good food, and a recipe or two.