🎀 Mollie’s Monthly Memories🎀

Two Years Living In London

 I celebrated my second anniversary living in London this September. Wow. About 70% of me can't even fathom it. I have spent nearly more time living in London than living in NYC post-graduation. Damn. 

To celebrate, I got British Mexican food (they try hard and they fail almost always) with some friends. Betty asked me about some of my bests and worsts of living in London. Best meal, worst date (all of them), etc.  It made me all reflect-y because it feels like so many things have happened, but also somehow nothing at all.  

I wouldn’t call London my Home, but it is A home. It’s a home in the way that I have (sometimes misplaced) confidence on how the public transport works. It’s a home in the way that there are parts of this city I completely adore in a way other cities can not compare to… and there are parts of it that I hate. It’s a home in the way people I truly and deeply love live here. It’s a home in the way that my most prized possession, a stuffed animal dog named Doggie, also lives here. After two years, I think I can say I have built something that resembles a community here, but if it is one… well, who’s to say.

Last year, when discussing my first anniversary in London,  I wrote, “This year was full. Sometimes full of love, sometimes loneliness.” And that still rings true, of course. This year, I’ve gained and lost so much. Once again, so much has happened, but it also feels like nothing at all. I still feel like the girl with three purple suitcases saying goodbye to Sherlock on my front steps, but that girl also feels miles away, 3000 miles to be exact. How do you know if you’ve changed? Sometimes I think I’m waiting for someone else to see the change in me, because I’m not sure I’d recognize it on my own. Maybe that’s a reflection for another Mollie’s Mind.

There are times, these past few months especially, when I miss Home so much that I sob hysterically and look up flights back to New York I can’t afford. I miss New York!! I do. I really do. But New York will always be there. At least, it will always be there if it doesn't get destroyed in the upcoming American civil war.  Right now, I am in London. I am meant to be in London. This next year may very well be my last full year in London. I am so viscerally determined to make the most of it.

Campaign !

This month, Suicide Prevention Awareness Month, Body & Soul launched a campaign! So exciting:) :) We projected a video onto the Tower Bridge, St. Thomas Hospital (my second home these days), and Parliament!!! It’s been super cool and really exciting🙂 

bodyandsoulcharity

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Maura’s French 25th!

We went to the wine capital of the world to celebrate Miss Maura’s 25th trip around the sun. It was Nik, Maura and me. Was it a couple's trip plus Mollie or a girls’ trip plus Nik? The latter obvi.  

Upon arrival, I went straight to eat at a cafe I found on TikTok. When I walked up to the man at the counter, he was looking down when he said “bonjour”, when he looked up, he said “oh-…, how can I help you”. These Frenchies clocked that I was American so fast I didn't even have to have a word come out of my mouth. After eating the French version of a poke bowl (see below), I met up with Maura and Nik at the nicest Airbnb I have ever stayed in. Truly, I didn't even have to go sightseeing; I was perfectly content with high ceilings and a balcony. 

We walked around, saw the sights, Nik fell asleep in said sights, and Maura crashed out over wanting miso aubergine, which honestly I can only respect. That night, we put on face masks and watched Monte Carlo starring Selena Gomez. Somehow, this was the most and least French activity for us to do in France.

The next day, we went to a boulangerie to pick up a deliciously carb-heavy breakfast, which we ate in front of the Bordeaux city hall, where, for some reason, only women over 50 were getting married. Rock and roll, ladies. We walked to the wine museum, which was shaped like a decanter.  The museum was DETAILED and VERY interactive. Too interactive, some may say? We were sniffing scents, stomping on video game grapes, watching videos on the harvest cycles, learning about ancient wine, and so much more. We spent like 2.5 hours there and just touched the surface.  And of course, we got wine.

After returning to the Airbnb, Maura and I sat on the balcony and did what we do best, people-watch and judge. We ended up becoming fascinated by these teenage boys taking photos of people on the street, which would print automatically. We became so engrossed in them. Who are they going to stop to take a photo of? Who will agree? Who will pay? Are the boys friends with each other? Is one the leader? How is the photo printing so fast?

Well, Maura gave me a 2 Euro coin, and I put on her shoes and went to find out. I marched right up to those French boys and made them take photos of me. I tried to ask them about their little business venture, to which they said “it’s not a business, it's my life” which, of course, I can oNLY RESPECT.  I then, much to Maura’s upset, pointed up and made them take photos of her on the balcony.

That evening, Maura’s birthday evening, we got ready for dinner. Maura forbade me from wearing my boots because I had complained all day, and someone has to keep me honest. We had an absolutely delectable dinner, where I got the waiter to put a candle in her rice pudding.

Our final day was rainy. We had breakfast, and I sent Nik and Maura on their way. I wandered the rainy Bordeaux streets and went to a museum where there was barely any English translation, so I left fairly soon. I sat at a cafe and journaled about how all men should be imprisoned. I ate my weight in steak frites and French onion soup. When I asked a store employee for a bathroom, I said “ Bonjour! Where is the bathroom?” to which she replied, with disgust, “ze what??”, I replied, “Oh… umm… the toillete?” Anyway, some French people can be scary. Eventually, I went to the airport where my flight was majorly delayed, and I didn’t end up getting up until 2am 👍️ 

Overall, nevertheless, an amazingly fun weekend celebrating someone so dear to my heart! Next stop Vienna xx

Open Heart Hand Surgery. 

Well, I am currently struggling to type this entire newsletter. Why? Well, this month, my little friend, Gerard, the cyst on my hand, was removed. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I thought I’d be in and out. A little numbing, and then they take him out? What I wasn’t expecting was to be on an operating table for ONE hour with THREE nurses and TWO surgeons wearing TWO hospital gowns AND sterilised underwear only to be wheeled out with a cast and a sling. 

The experience was… well…. They injected local anaesthetic into my hand, which felt like acid in my veins, and my hand blew up like a balloon. It was gross! Then they started slicing and dicing me up. I obviously looked (I’m a curious girl!) and as one would assume, there was a gaping bloody hole in my hand with muscles and bones visible.  I didn’t feel anything at first, just some pressure. But then I started feeling them INSIDE my hand. It is a feeling I have a hard time describing; it was as if I felt them touch my literal bones. And it started to hurt, so I started saying ouch ouch ouch, and they were like “we need more anaesthetic!!” and started injecting more acidic numbing goo into my hand. That happened a few times. I even, at one point, apologised to them for being in pain…. womanhood is so hard…and they were like, no WE’RE sorry???? Towards the end, they hit a nerve in my pal, and it hurt like a BITCH, and I started to cry, so the nurse, my girl Jocelyn, had to hold my hand.

I watched them sew me up, and it looked like they were sewing together too wrinkly pieces of fabric, and then they put me in a cast. I was wheeled out, ate two hospital chicken sandwiches and got a sling. 

I Ubered home and showered with a fucking bag over my cast, which I currently still have to do. Rory came a brought me a Matcha (my medicine) , and my upstairs neighbour (hi Jasmine!! and also Hi Rithi! ) came over with pizza, chocolate and flowers, and we watched 40-Year-Old Virgin. What a motivational film to watch in my broken state, because at least I’m not a virgin.

@itismollie

You know I had to do it to them

My hand was swollen and numb, and uncomfortable, giving me a newfound appreciation for hands. I felt so incapable these past few weeks. Showering, washing my face, typing, cooking, shopping, putting my bra on in the morning, was a STRUGGLE. I will say, there was a perk, I did get a seat on the tube, though. 

Thank you to everyone who helped me live my life over the last few weeks. I deeply appreciate it!!

Honorable Mentions

🎀 Mollie’s Darwie’s Mind 🎀

Y’all know that straight man I live with? Well, upon finding out about my newsletter, he, like most straight men, wanted a piece of it. So everyone, please enjoy Mollie Mail’s first guest article:

The Best 45 Days Of My Life

By Darwie Fang

It’s an absolute pleasure to be the first to write a guest appearance for Mollie’s newsletter. It seems Lucas (our other flatmate) and I have quickly climbed to the very top of Mollie’s friendship leaderboard – an achievement which is no easy feat (don’t be jealous now). 

I’d like to use this letter to talk a bit about Mollie’s strengths. My first impression of Mollie was that she was creative. Within 2 minutes of moving in, she showed me her 18 pieces of artwork, demanding my opinions on each one. Naturally, this girl from New York City decided to self-appoint herself the Head of Interior Design (a role Lucas and I didn’t contest).

It didn’t take long to realise that Mollie is always up for a chat. Though half our conversations involve me trying to explain my tech job, the other half consists of her explaining why every man named Jacob in London should be given the death penalty. As an update to you all back home, her male taxonomy now includes:

1. Guitarist

2. CEO

3. Gay

4. Jacobs *

One thing that stands out about Mollie is her ability to quickly build relationships. She’s somehow coaxed Lucas into speaking more words in a month than I managed in my entire first year living with him. In addition to this, she’s stolen all my friends and has become the favourite neighbour within the block (I can confidently say it’s because of her pumpkin cookies). Mollie is also a great storyteller. Knowing this, I’ve asked her to help me with my personal interview preparation. I often wonder where she got this storytelling skillset from. I learnt that it was from extensive reading of Smut…… (vomit). 

@itismollie

Josh Chen has this effect @Darwie Fang

However, no individual is perfect and comes with weaknesses. Mollie’s most notable one is her lack of ability to imitate an Australian accent. Every morning I ask “how are you?”, I’ll confidently receive an automated “HOOWWLL ARE YAAARR?”. Unfortunately, I do not think this weakness can ever improve and is likely a disease that is to remain incurable.  

From teaching me about Jewish holidays (Shana Tova!) to inspiring me with her strict meal prep and stand-up bravery, I’m genuinely grateful to have lived with the one and only, Mollie Isabel Sunshine Kerr.

🍵 Mollie’s Matcha 🍵

A new coffee shop opened up in Kentish Town called Lilac 🫡 

🎀 Mollie’s Music 🎀