Your Unemployed Daughter

photo credit: johnmarchan

It bears occasional reminding that one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. Such is the case for old-fashioned tube televisions with built-in VHS players, for jobs, and even for cities.

Take YUP, for instance. He seems to be happy as a clam, or at least as happy as a recent transplant from a sunny continent to a rain-drenched isle can be.

And then, on the other side of the ring, we have my dear former coworker who was sent back to his homeland (the UK) due to a layoff that included not only his job, but also his newly adopted New York City.

Perspective is everything, guys. It really is. Because very few things—save evil stepmothers, wicked publishers, and certain terrorists/dictators—are 100 percent bad. Every cloud has a silver lining; every lining has its touch of grey. We will, I am assured, get by.

This former coworker is back in town as of this Friday for a few days, and I’m sure the crap UN-related traffic, helter-skelter crowds of roving tourist morons, and overpriced buffalo chicken fingers will have him hankering for tea and crumpets sooner than you can hail a yellow cab. Or perhaps not. NYC is a pretty awesome place. But so is the English seaside.

Here are a few of his thoughts of late, re: then, and now.

Once Upon a Time

I used to live in New York, working in the fast-paced world of magazines. My life was a hypnotizing whirl of deadlines, boozing, dancing, and getting into all sorts of trouble.

Then I got laid off. Alas, no more hypnotizing whirl.

I moved back to England and freelanced in London for a couple of months but my brain was yelling at me to stop working and take a break. So I did. I now live with my folks in their sleepy English village near the seaside, while I prepare to go traveling around the world. My, how life has changed.

When I Lived in New York… I passed a Starbucks every 15 seconds. Nowadays, I haven’t seen (or smelt) one in weeks. There is, however, a coffee shop in the village called Coast, where the staff stare at you blankly if you ask for an Americano.

When I Lived in New York… I used to buy three bananas for a dollar from the fruit guy on the corner. In London I buy a pappy, tasteless apple for 50p ($.80) from a cafe that smells of stale cooking oil.

When I Lived in New York… I used to grab a slice from any corner pizza place and marvel at how something so quick and cheap could taste so good. When I’m roaming the streets of London and in need of late-night sustenance, I locate a supermarket that’s open late and grab a plastic-packaged sandwich.

When I Lived in New York… I used to travel on roomy air-conditioned subway cars. When I go into London, I wedge onto a steaming hot tube train with no AC, bent double because the carriages were built for malnourished short people from the 1860s.

When I Lived in New York… I used to edit interviews and put together magazine stories with the features, beauty, and fashion departments. As Uncle Robert, I spend much of my brain power thinking up new games to amuse my 6-year-old niece and two nephews, aged four.

When I Lived in New York… I used to enjoy padding around my spacious one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn without a care in the world, flicking on the TV or some music. Nowadays, my niece and nephews rule the TV and get cross if I ask to watch something, which means I have seen several episodes of kids’ favorite Charlie and Lola. Don’t ask me what it’s about, I still haven’t fully grasped the show’s complex themes.

When I Lived in New York… I used to fling open my wardrobe and put together an outfit (in a totally straight, masculine way of course). Nowadays, I have to creep down to the garage in a towel after my shower to get dressed because that’s where all my clothes are, shoved into bags and crates still not unpacked from New York.

When I Lived in New York… I used to be lucky enough to occasionally spend the night with a foxy young thing from the world of art, media, or, um, software installation (don’t judge, she was mega hot). Nowadays, the only person who’s shared my bed has been my nephew Oscar, after he wet his own mattress in the middle of the night. However, my nephew and my ex-girlfriends do have one thing in common: They both like to wear my T-shirts in bed.

When I Lived in New York… I used to flick around the TV, nibbling on a crappy sitcom here, a medical drama there. Nowadays, if I feel like watching TV and my niece and nephews have not commandeered it, I seek out quality, such as the classic 1981 BBC adaptation of Brideshead Revisited starring Jeremy Irons. Four episodes down, seven to go.

When I Lived in New York… I used to go to bars with my guy friends, get into mischief, and roll in at 4am to be woken up by a taxi honking outside my window. Nowadays, I’m in bed with a good book by 9:30pm, stone cold sober, and last night was woken by the sound of my dad snoring in the next bedroom.

When I Lived in New York… My boss used to ask me what celebrity interviews we had in the pipeline or would tell me to come up with a new headline for a feature. Nowadays, I’m asked, “Uncle Robert, can you do that thing where you hold onto my hands and twirl me round really fast?” and told, “Uncle Robert, I need some socks and a hoodie.” I am a hybrid of a clown and a stylist.

When I Lived in New York… I used to take full advantage of the vibrant NYC restaurant scene and pop out at 9pm to dine at an excellent spot specializing in cuisine from a far-flung corner of the globe, found with the help of a well-thumbed Zagat guide. Nowadays, I eat meat, potatoes, and vegetables with my parents at 6pm and then put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher.

When I Lived in New York… I used to go to my local municipal gym in Brooklyn, where I lifted weights with dudes in wife-beaters whose veins resembled electrical cable. Nowadays, the only form of weight-lifting I do is giving piggybacks to my niece and nephews in the garden as the self-invented Grass Monster. Let me tell you, having a kid strapped to your back for hours, standing up, squatting down, and standing up again, is a damn good workout. I’ve christened them “uncle lunges.”

When I Lived in New York… If anything in my apartment ever needed fixing I would panic and call my landlord. But in the last two weeks, I have put up a wine rack, painted an entire house, nailed together two wardrobes, put up three curtain poles, and fixed a toilet.

When I Lived in New York… I used to enjoy wandering around Barnes & Noble picking out books. Nowadays, the only shelves of books I see are in the dusty and underfunded local library where I took my niece Caroline to hear the librarian tell the story of Medusa. Our task was then to construct a foam snake for a model head of Medusa that the librarian had made at home. Ours was looking good until I sewed the eyes on too close together. Caroline was pissed.

When I Lived in New York… I used to feel guilty about taking time off work and would only go on a quick four-day break over a holiday weekend. Nowadays, I have spent the last three weeks planning a six-month tour of Australia, New Zealand, Sri Lanka, Vietnam, and South Africa.

Do I feel guilty? Not a bit.
—Rob Chilton

When YUD lived in Italy for a semester of junior year, what she really missed was American cheese. There’s no accounting for taste.