In which things start to come together in a major way

It’s a bit weird when things start to make sense.

It’s weirder still the way that happens sometimes. Case in point: I mentioned previously how I’d been making friends in all sorts of unexpected places, and briefly mentioned someone I’d met in a vintage shop. Since that incident ended up leading to some major life changes, I ought to elaborate some more:

About a week and a half ago, I found myself coming down with a cold, always being improperly dressed for the damp, windy weather, and so decided to duck into the cute vintage shop near my local tube station to buy a scarf. I found a bright yellow one for about £6, and went to the desk to purchase it. The lady there was very friendly, and introduced herself as Margie. She said she kept seeing me around (certainly I do have a way of sticking out in my 6’3”, leopard print-clad, gold-booted glory) and that she admired my style. This came as a very pleasant surprise to me, since she seemed pretty much amazing right off the bat, with her heterochromia and amazing vintage outfit, and we chatted for a while. I had that sort of brain fog that comes with being sick (and, worse yet, undercaffeinated!) and so I fear I wasn’t a very good conversationalist, but all the same I ended up telling her about how I’d just moved here and was looking for a job and a flat. She was tremendously helpful, suggesting websites to help me with both things, and we ended up exchanging information before I rushed off to view a place.

Within the next couple of days, Margie and I became Facebook friends, and I figured I’d go back and chat with her again the next Tuesday when she was back in the shop. Certainly it seemed like an amazing thing to meet someone so cool in what could have been an entirely mundane transaction. I was grateful for the excellent human interaction, and raved to people about it over the next few days.

Imagine my surprise upon demanding comments on my last blog post and finding one from Margie herself. She told me she’d loved what she’d read, and wanted some help with her vintage company’s WordPress account. She’d discussed it with her boyfriend and business partner, and he’d agreed I seemed like I’d be the right person to help out. I emailed her and we ended up arranging for me to go in to discuss it with her. Said discussion took place this past Tuesday, and we sorted out that I could do a sort of internship, which sounded amazing to me. Great experience, and the chance to be involved in some way in a vintage business? Suddenly there were visions of my glorious London life where that was just one of the many things I spent my time doing…! I was excited, to say the very least. She said she’d contact me soon and we’d work out the logistics.

On Thursday night, I checked my voicemail to find a message from Margie. She said she wanted to discuss some things with me and so, once we finally managed to get a hold of one another, I expected her to suggest a time when I could come in and start helping out with the internet stuff. Imagine my surprise when she told me instead of a room available in her flat!

During our first ever conversation, when I mentioned needing a place, Margie had mentioned that there was a room available in the flat where she lived with her boyfriend Marc, but she’d immediately told me that the landlady had plans to sell the flat and so I’d be better finding somewhere else. Besides which, the rent was a fair bit outside of my budget…! However, it now turned out that the landlady was willing to knock down the price in the hopes of finding someone to live there, and the sale wasn’t going to be finalised for at least three months, maybe six! The room, Margie told me, was absolutely gorgeous, and I’d been the first person she’d thought of when the situation changed. Sitting in my hostel stairwell as she and I spoke on the phone, I felt tremendously excited, like maybe I’d finally be able to settle in somewhere, and with flatmates that I liked. I sort of wanted to shout it from the rooftops, but life has taught me to be a bit more cautious so instead she and I arranged for me to come view the place the next day. We chatted on the phone for ages, actually, which was a really good indication that living in the same place could work out quite well.

I had a number of viewings I was meant to go to yesterday, but it was hard to care about most of them. I reminded myself not to put all my eggs in one basket and all that, though, and made it to… one? Then I went to view Margie’s flat. It’s gorgeous. She told me I could move in next Saturday, and then proceeded to figure out a place for me and my visiting friend (who gets here Monday) to stay in the interim. Phoned a guest house, got them to give me a deal and everything! Did I mention she’s amazing?

My plans were uncertain when I woke up this morning. I thought I might go to Cardiff for a friend’s birthday party, but I hadn’t bought a bus ticket yet. I’d booked two nights at another hostel to get me through until Liv’s visit on Monday. All I knew was I needed to do something with my luggage, and Margie had told me I could leave it at the flat until I properly moved in. Ultimately Cardiff has proved to be more than I can manage today, and when I came over with my luggage, Margie suggested (and confirmed with Marc) that, instead of staying at a hostel, I could just sleep on the couch for the weekend. So now I’m sat in the living room, having just had a snack of cheese on toast and a cup of tea, and I’m so relieved and happy about everything that I’m feeling a little bit teary. Four weeks in and things are actually starting to come together.

I’m so glad I went into that shop that day.

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