It’s surprisingly difficult to find work in Italy from London. Shocker. Obviously, this isn’t helped by the fact that I am a woman of severely limited practical skills with a very elementary understanding of Italian.
Hot stuff I am not.
So, bar being able to belt out a damn good rendition of RESPECT, I have very little to offer the Italian populace.
Economically speaking, Italy is in a slightly different ball game to the rest of Europe too. By this I mean there’s barely enough work to go around the Italians. High unemployment and a concentration of work in the North also means direct competition with the locals, and despite being a founding member of the EU, Italy isn’t exactly renowned for being the most hospitable environment for 'temporary guests'.
Regardless of this very daunting prospect, I’m still pretty determined to get over there, not least because I have practically made a public statement about it. I may as well have issued a press release. I've moved out of my lovely house share in Clapham, back to a box room which lies – in the words of All Time Low– in a 'sweet suburban tomb’, for a month to live with the parents and save on rent.