I am a nanny

If you follow me on Instagram, you know I declare myself an interpeter/writer/nanny. Yes, I work three jobs that couldn’t be more different from one another but that have one thing in common my LOVE. My love for English/words/children.

This nanny job I have should have been a temporary gig until I decided what path to take in my new life in London. With a background in travel industry and marketing, my fate would have been a 9 to 5 job in an office. I spent a lifetime in offices, I have come to dread it so much that I decided to indulge myself in my nanny life a little bit more.

Being a nanny is not an easy job especially if you are not fond of children at all times, even when they throw tantrums and scream as if they are being beheaded or something. If a tantrum annoys you to the point you feel like shouting or even worse, hitting the child upside the head, then please never become a nanny.

I don’t mind tantrums much. Ok, sometimes they happen when we are in a hurry going somewhere, or in a packed bus, but all together I am fine with it. Children have the right to be upset just like adults have. While we can contain ourselves, they are just forming these skills now. And they need our help. Also, the best part of tantrums is that they are followed by lovely cuddles. I find children’s cuddles the most heartwarming.

Apart from tantrums, being a nanny is awesome. It is the best job I have ever had. As a nanny you get to play, full around, spend hours on end in parks, museums, playgrounds and all sort of outings. Ok, sometimes you get to read about fifteen books of which ten are Peppa Pig books and this can be a bit overwhelming but you will survive.

Nannies are paid well, at least in London. A nanny probably makes what a Junior in Marketing makes, but without the long hours and the pressure. A nanny also gets love. The best kind of love, that is. A child’s love is such a precious gift, priceless, I dare say. Children love unconditionally and with all their might, even when they don’t like you that much. I might sound extremely sad to some people, but the love of these three children I look after is probably my biggest achievement in life to the date.

Also, their love came when I needed it most: starting over in a foreign country, clueless about what my next step should be. This job and these children gave me purpose and at the same time they were my anchor in this new city, in this new life.

But, unfortunately it doesn’t take only lovely children to make a nanny job amazing. It also takes a lovely family. I was lucky to get one. The children’s parents are both role models to me. They have a beautiful marriage and they are on the same page when it comes to the children. They treat me with utmost respect and demand the same from their children. Not even the tinniest rude comment towards me is accepted from the kids or to treat me as if I am their servant. They have to put their dishes on the side and tidy up their room even if they have a nanny. And the parents not only tell them how to behave, but they set an example. They do what they preach and I admire them for this. Being a good parent is harder than being a lousy parent but it pays off.

Being part of this wonderful English family three days a week helped me a lot adjusting to the culture. Seeing them in action, parents, grandparents, aunties and uncles gave me an idea about what is accepted and what is not accepted in the British culture.

I have changed a lot during the past year and a half, since I’ve been with them. The changes came organic, bit by bit, totally unplanned. That is the beauty of changing, I guess. One day you simply realise you are an improved version of yourself.

Also, having this job three days a week gave me something I never had before: four days weekends. I swear I never had so much time in my hands, not even when I was in school. I enjoyed the easy life for a while but then I decided to do something useful. So I went back to school. I studied Community Interpreting, in my attempt to stay away from offices for the rest of my life.

This year I have started my interpreting job and my writing gigs are starting to add up. But I still cannot give up being a nanny just yet. I am seriously considering doing it for one more year, at least one day a week. No other job puts a smile on my face like the nanny job does. And going through life smiling is my goal.

It is all a matter of perspective

It is incredible how fast time goes by. I can’t believe we are in May already, where did the time go? It feels like yesterday it was New Year’s Eve.

I was thinking the other day how I’ve done nothing constructive this year so far. I have this terrible gift of belittling myself. On my list of failures: not writing much, not having booked an exotic holiday, not getting fit, procrastinating everything, all the time. I was about to slap myself, I am telling you.

But then the positive results of plenty of sessions of therapy kicked in and, with a bit of effort, I was able to see the lovely bits of my life. In 2015 I moved into a studio flat, I started working as an interpreter, I had a lovely holiday in Tenerife, I decided to move in with my boyfriend,viewed flats together and chose a pretty one bedroom at West Hampstead, put my flat in Romania on the market, finally cutting my ties with my mother land. Don’t I look completely grown up and accomplished when looking at my life like this? Moral: it is all a matter of perspective.

The most touching moment by far was welcoming at the airport one of the British survivors in Nepal, and having a cup of tea with him and his family, listening to some incredible stories. I admired his positive attitude and how he was making some of the things that happened to him sound rather funny. I would have probably came back with a huge PTSD if I were him.

But this is not about me or him, it’s about the Nepalese people that were left without nothing. I am kindly asking you to spare a fiver and donate it to a charity of your choice. It will not make a difference to you, but it will make a massive difference to them. In other words, please don’t pray for Nepal. Donate money instead.

P.S. My studio flat is up for grabs, if anyone is interested. Turnpike Lane, £750 pcm, bills included. Check the add here and share it to your friends.

A Day In the Life of A Dehydrated Woman

I am the dehydrated woman. Long story short, I didn’t pay attention to the signs and here I am with very but very VERY dry skin, broken nails and Hagrid-like hair.

I have plenty of time in my hands these days so I have decided to take some measures.

I started few days ago with drinking as much water as possible. Needless to say I am doing wee wee every other 10 minutes. After each wee I have another glass of water. And so on.

I must have had about seven litres of water in two days but no change in my complexion. My face was still absorbing layer after layer of cream, just like a sponge.


Ok then, time to add up more fruits and veggies to my diet, I thought. The past few days I have been living on cucumbers (one a day), grapefruit (two a day), apples (three to five a day), grapes (a Tesco package a day), cherry tomatoes, broccoli and salmon. And water. With no visible changes in my complexion, obviously.

Today I have decided that enough is enough and if the food doesn’t get from my tummy to my face then I should serve the food directly to my face. And there I went.

1. I washed my face thoroughly.

2. I mixed honey and sugar.


3. I applied the mixture on my face. I left it on for 15 minutes, while I drank water, did wee wee and drank water. After the 15 minutes passed I washed it off carefully, rubbing it gently at the same time (sugar it’s a great exfoliator), did more wee, drank more water and moved to the next step.


4. I sliced a whole cucumber thinking to apply half of it on my face and eat the other half. But…10 minutes after the cucumber slices were on my face, they were completely dry. I postponed the eating, drank some water and applied a second batch of cucumbers. And so on, three times until I finished the cucumbers. I drank water in between applications. Half an hour later, with a full bladder and a slightly hydrated skin, I went to the bathroom. Wee first, washed face second.


5. I applied cream (Avene for dry skin), which my skin absorbed with much thirst, I applied again and so on, four times.

6. I asked for advice on social media, did some research on Internet and went to Boots to buy E45.

I got the small one, 50 ml, for £2,99. It seems to be working for now, one layer is enough and doesn’t leave any trail of grease on my skin.

I will keep with the new diet for a while, I might lower the water quantity though, as I feel like I am practically living in the loo. I will stop wearing skin foundation for a few days and keep fingers and toes crossed for improvement. Dry skin is itchy, looks dull and it’s annoying.

Please do tell me about how you treat dry skin and hair. I’d love to hear about your solutions.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go do a wee and bath myself in olive oil (sort of).

It’s official. I have the flu.

I am in bed, with a 3 year old sleeping on top of me, curled up like a cat. We are both down with the flu.

We’ve tried all day long to stay strong: we’ve played with the trains, read books, watched Peppa Pig and tried to watch Frozen (but the DVD stopped and the idiot nanny, aka me, had no idea how to work the TV, DVD player and the three remote controls).


I have a soup simmering on the stove, an English breakfast tea with lots of lemon forgotten somewhere downstairs , a 3 year old sleeping on top of me, like I’ve already told you and a plan to watch PSG vs Chelsea at a sports bar tonight. Because boyfriend.

I also have some Advil a friend smuggled from the USA so I might actually be able to watch the game.

Isn’t Advil awesome?
Who are you gonna cheer for tonight?
How many Peppa Pig episodes can a person watch before committing suicide?


I commute therefore my train of thoughts is not going straight – 1

“There is nothing like the smell of pot in the morning” I was thinking while walking to the Overground station  earlier this morning. And it isn’t. It simply doesn’t fit with the crisp air and with the freshness of recently showered people. But this is the former occasional pot smoker speaking. Occasional meaning every now and then at some party. Now I am done with it, pot doesn’t go well with antidepressants. I can barely have two drinks without getting away with the fairies. Poor me.

I am going through changes in my life. I actually like changes, the excitement new brings, to be more precise but history taught me that changes in general have a deep impact on me. Since this time I am aware of it and most important, I can afford it, I will take it slow, to adjust to change without facing psychological consequences. Therefore, I have started my new career in London, as a Romanian Interpreter, but only two days a week. The other three I am still the happiest nanny that can be.

Speaking of being a nanny, right now I have a tummy bug and a flu bug lurking around me and a kid close to the family has worms. But no nits this week, yey!

Also, my nanny job is just up the street from the home of Jihadi John. It kind of gives me the freaks. Not to mention he was apparently trained at a mosque at Finsbury Park, very close to where I live.

Commute is almost done. So am I. Over and out.