Juggling is an art

Juggling is an art. And not all are good at it. I, if I may say, am a master at it these days. That is, until all the balls will come crashing down on my head. Or, as the picture would suggest, explode and leave only a bloody mess behind.

But let's start looking at the fakts.

Juggle 1. The Job

Anyone who's done a start-up in his/her life will tell you immediately: don't. It's the most exhausting thing you'll ever do. But starting something as complex as a Hub - not just an office space, but a social network, a charity, a social enterprise, a community organisation, a cool members' club AND a consultancy firm, all wrapped up into one bundle of joy - starting something like a Hub required a degree of insanity few are capable of. Juggling here is done with triple axel jumps on the side. Now in the next few weeks I am expected to secure a 6 year lease, close a deal with funders and investors, raise a good sum of dosh, start a new company, organise works so the space gets turned into a super-cool club, and do it all before my holidays kick in... Easy peasy!

Juggle 2. The Social Life

When one leave the Motherland, one doesn't expect to have to go back to it and rebuild social relations with meticulous care, while making sure those back in the UK are kept happy as well, so as to avoid rumbling comments like "he's already fogetting us" or "I told you he'd never come back" (hands up who didn't think that at least once). In Italy, my physical proximity to people barely seen for decades develops in them a sudden urge to see me more than they would have ever wished for just a few months ago. It's the novelty of having me at hand, the irresistible urge to call and say "where are you, I am coming over", ignoring my plights of having too much work (see Juggle 1). The result is a bombardment of requests to engage socially by people of all sorts. The old friends and family members. The ones I only just met, dazzled by my incredible charisma. The nutters. I say yes to all, and still manage not to really have a proper social life...

Juggle 3. The House

Well we know this comes with a grand plan attached, which I am not going to discuss on this blog for obvious reasons (privacy mainly, something Lady V is not really familiar with). But purchasing the house, as we know, is part of this idea to create something rather extraordinary, and as such is already proving to be a feat in its own right. Buying a house (and moving into it) is supposed to be the second most stressful thing in life, after getting a divorce. We're also rebuilding the whole thing, to such high standards that the editor of a world-famous magazine has just asked us to cover the story of the works as a feature. Which of course means juggling not just architects and contractors, but journalists and photographers too...! Well, I can safely say we have already achieved on this front, with completion signed off yesterday. Number 10, here we come! Nightmare works: about to begin.

Juggle 4. The Other House

As if buying one house were not enough, I am also homeless in Milan as of the 15th of April, and had to find another abode asap, to avoid sleeping under a bridge (not that there are many in Milan). So, from London, I have been scanning every website and listing to find a small yet charming place, especially in consideration of Tot T's arrival on June 1. We know the young American has very strong opinions on housing, and of course only deserves the best Milan has to offer. I dropped the insane prospect of living in a fashion shoot (see previous post) and started searching all over again. A strange man offered me a 3-bedroom flat behind the Duomo. When asked what the catch was, he said "hurry send money quick or else I give flat to someone else". It felt like one of those spam messages from Nigeria. Well that was not too hard a scam to spot. In the end, I went for this one:




Sweet, not too expensive and with a bunk bed. Expect serious accidents when Tot T hits Milan...

Juggle 5. Tot T

As per above, Tot T is about to hit Milan with a large slapping noise. My bf cannot certainly be described as a chore in any shape or form, or something to "juggle", much as I like the idea of him as a bouncy ball, but the truth is, having a relationship with someone at the other end of the Atlantic pond is challenging at best. Skype calls need to be carefully planned. Visits need to be timed to be close enough but not too much. And the pains of distance ignored as much as possible. Juggling is not the right word for a long-distance relationship, but it certainly adds anoter ingredient to an already tasty broth. The correct word is: torture.

So in a nutshell, given the amount of stuff going on in my life, I decided I need a secretary. Didn't someone just loose his job? Anyone? Was thinking something along the lines of Maggie in The Secretary...