They say you learn something new every day. I’m learning…well, at least twelve new things every day, and that number just keeps increasing because I haven’t even met everyone at the club yet! Catrina’s idea of communal breakfasts is an excellent one. I must admit, the urge to stay in my apartment most of the time is tempting, but I just had to get a cat who thrives on playing with others. Winston just won’t let me stay inside, so out we come every day for some wholesome time to chat and get to know everyone.
So, today I learned that Hunter is half-Japanese and speaks six languages. Ugnè makes delicious Swedish pancakes. Oh, and Fiona is the one to go to if you’re having literally any financial crisis, because she’s a businesswoman without peer. She was the one with all the Carlton conveyancing services connections who helped to get this place up and running. It can’t have been easy to buy an entire apartment block, particularly when you had to be trans[aren’t about how it was going to be used. The Club basically owes its existence to Catrina and Fiona, by what people say…although I’m sure there were many who did their fair share.
I didn’t know anything about conveyancing or settlements until the day before it opened. I was tossing up whether to even apply once I got the pamphlet, telling myself that it was too late, I couldn’t deal with all the people, there would be commune amongst the patrons and I’d have to get all dressed up and do my hair every time and I just wasn’t ready for any of this. As with most everything nowadays, Winston tipped me over the edge. He needs socialisation, and Mrs Dillinger’s grouchy tabby next door isn’t cutting it. So now I’m here, talking to a full-qualified Brighton conveyancer and enjoying the conversation. Carlton, even. Suppose this was a good idea after all.