something will happen

“The funny thing about those kinds of goats is that they easily get cold so the farmers have to wrap them up and make sure they stay warm.” “That’s like me!” I laughed. He smiled, eyes twinkling...

“What were you going to do if hadn’t responded?” Rosie asked me sipping rosé opposite me at a long wooden table outside a tiny bar in the golden September afternoon sun.

She had been the one to return to my plea if anyone knew of any place I could rent next when I only had 10 days left in my sublet in London in August with an offer of her husband’s house to sublet in Margate.

I snapped it up. I’d heard so much hype about Margate. Until I went and found out the hype was false.

“Something would have happened,” I replied, smiling. Something always does.

A week into my stay in Margate I knew the place was not for me. Although, in hindsight, I miss my daily long strolls alongside the wild Northern Sea. They were spectacular and raw. I don’t miss the constant headaches and tension I felt in my body from being in that place, however.

I started looking for a new place to stay, somewhere between South London and the Sea. A friend of mine lived in Forest Row and started sending me every Facebook and WhatsApp post that advertised a one-bed, a studio or an annexe.

“No cats!” “The place doesn’t actually have walls.” “Those dates don’t work.” “Not for people who work from home.”

Weeks rolled past and our next home seemed elusive. In moments of despair, I tried other options. Staying in the spare room of a friend for a month. Putting my cat in the care of someplace else for a little while. And then I remembered.

“Something will happen.”