Promotions, Positano & Proper Grown-Up Things.

Okay, so maybe these posts are going to become bi-monthly updates. Is that even the right word? Bi-monthly? Every two months? Or twice a month? Honestly, it’s probably one of the most ambiguous phrases in the English language, and I’m too tired (and under-caffeinated) to Google it. Anyway — onwards.

The Work Hustle

It’s late September, and work has been absolutely manic. The kind of busy where your inbox feels like a living organism. But for once, it’s the good kind of chaos — because I’ve been promoted! I’m officially a full Project Manager now (no longer an Assistant!), and I could cry just typing that. It’s been such a long road getting here. After taking that detour into recruitment for a while (which in hindsight feels like a fever dream of sales targets and awkward client coffees), I’ve always felt a bit behind my peers. London can make that feeling worse — everyone here seems to be 30 and casually owning investment flats, while I’m side-eyeing my bank balance and wondering if I can justify another Pret lunch. Still, this promotion feels like catching up with myself again.

Career-wise, it’s such a big step. Like many women, I’ve always wanted to push as far as I can before kids come into the equation — that quiet internal pressure to get there before biology or burnout hits. So this one’s for me. The long nights, the imposter syndrome, the fake-it-till-you-make-it heels — all of it.

And to make things even better, I’ve picked up a new project in Kensington! A high-end residential development for a Singaporean client — the kind of thing I used to daydream about when I was slogging through property law lectures back in Auckland. My Essex project is winding down (the contractor’s just hit practical completion — hallelujah), and I’ve got a new grad shadowing me who’s actually a bit of a legend. He’s helped with the mountain of paperwork and joined me on site a few times, wide-eyed at the sheer scale of it all. The Kensington site has a four-storey basement, which, for any fellow construction nerds out there, is wild. The propping system looks like some kind of steel cathedral. The architecture team are total rockstars too — their office is in a restored department store in Brixton, all exposed brick and plants and art-school energy. Walking in, I half expect someone to hand me a Negroni and a concept sketch. Honestly, little old me feels very pleased.

Amalfi Escapades

And because I refuse to let work completely consume me, August brought a much-needed escape to the Amalfi Coast. It was everything I’d hoped — and maybe a touch more chaotic. A handful of us Kiwis spent the long weekend hopping between Sorrento and Positano, which basically looked like a Dulux paint chart of blues and golds. Every corner was a photo moment — old men in linen, lemon trees spilling over balconies, and that golden-hour light that makes you believe in miracles (and also spend €14 on an Aperol spritz).

We hiked the Sentiero degli Dei — the Path of the Gods — which sounds far more peaceful than it is. It’s stunning, yes, but also hot. I’m talking full-body, sweat-in-your-eyebrows hot. My pro tip: taxi up to Bomerano so you can walk down the steps instead of up them. Trust me, your quads will thank you. At the end of the walk, we decided to stop at Arienzo Beach Club, which might just be heaven — all orange and white parasols, sea spray, and Aperol refills. The boys got tipsy and started shouting about how they’d “never leave,” and somehow convinced a local barman to ferry us back to Positano on his boat instead of hiking. There’s something unbeatable about cruising along that coastline — cliffs glowing gold, hair salty, and the faint sound of someone snoring off their sixth Peroni behind you.

We ended the night barefoot on cobblestones, eating gelato and laughing about who’d be most likely to fall into the sea (spoiler: it was me). Pure bliss.

Routine, Rugby & Real Life

Back in London, I’ve been trying to hold onto the good habits. I’m playing mixed touch rugby on Wandsworth Common during the week — my passing’s still dodgy, but my post-match pint form is elite. I’ve also joined a summer netball team with work, which has been surprisingly fun (and mildly aggressive). There’s something about having a schedule — even if it’s full of social sport and skincare routines — that keeps me grounded. Especially in a city that moves a million miles a minute.

September’s been busy, but in that satisfying, full-life way. I’m tired, yes, but it’s the good kind. The kind that feels like growth.

Here’s to the next entry — no date commitments this time (sorry, not sorry).

Jess x