“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.”
Then one day, an advertisement for a tiny cottage in Forest Row popped up, which I answered immediately, introducing myself, my situation, and what I was looking for. “I have a cat.” I wrote. Twice. Just to make sure.
The landlady replied quickly. “You sound lovely. And your cat is most welcome! The only thing is, it’s only available until mid-December as my sister is coming to visit and I promised her the place then.”
Happy, I agreed to a Zoom call to meet and get to know each other a little more. She gave me a virtual tour and we settled on a two-month sublet.
As the last month began and winter began rolling in, my early morning jaunts to hot yoga were greeted with frost and endless days of rainfall, the cycle in my mind began again.
I looked for sublets in Brighton and Hove, where I had lived before and some of my friends live, sad to leave the sheltered forest I currently call home. Nothing felt right. Nothing fell into place. Something else had to fall into place.
“Maybe I am not meant to spend winter here?” I thought to myself. My dream has always, always been to leave for three or four months and live in this little magical corner of England for the rest of the year.
“Something will happen” I decided.
One day in late October, wrapped up in more layers than I would like, I met my friend Angela for coffee. “Are you staying here for winter or are you leaving?” she asked me. “Well… I’ve been trying to find somewhere to stay here but nothing is falling into place,” I said with a disheartened expression. “Do you have any suggestions?”
“I’m going to Africa for a month. South Africa, and Namibia, where I grew up,” she replied. “Why don’t you come?”
“Really?!!”
“Yes! Come.”
I asked around if anyone would like to take my cat and my car from mid-December. One friend replied but she wasn’t able to until early January. Then, crickets…
“Something will happen” I hoped.
A few days later my friend Chelsea friend replied. My cat and I had house-sat her and her husband’s home in Ely a few months earlier. “We can take Danger and your car!”
Minutes later my landlady texted. “I love having you as a tenant. Would you like to continue the lease after my sister comes for Christmas?”
Everything happened all at once. I had to decide.
Sunshine and adventure won out and a few days later I replied to my landlady. “I love staying here so much but had made other arrangements as I thought it was only short-term based on our conversation. I’m going to Africa for three months but would love to return when I’m back in late March?”
“Perfect” she agreed.
On Saturday, I went to pick up some spring water from the spring that spouts out on a local farm. It had been so cold that night the water had frozen and it wasn’t running. Absently I decided to pick up a coffee at the farm shop instead to warm my freezing hands before I drove to visit a friend of mine.
Already 30 minutes late I impatiently waited to order a cappuccino and handed the barista Nick my takeaway mug. Standing out in the cold waiting for him to make my coffee and steam the milk I heard a voice ask me “What is that top made of?”
“Which top?” I replied wearing many layers that day. I peered up at a somewhat handsome middle-aged man wearing a grey hoodie.
“The white one,” he pointed at my sweater under my sheepskin jacket. “It’s Angora,” I smiled. “Which I think is rabbit.”
“I’m pretty sure Angora is a type of goat!” he countered.
“Really?” I questioned.
“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 in good humour.
“Where do they live? The goats? I’m assuming it’s not here in England!”
“Well, some of them live in South Africa.” At that moment I clock that his accent has a slight South African flavour to it.
“I’m going to South Africa. In two weeks! For three months.”
“Where are you going to stay?”
“I don’t know. First I’m going to Namibia with my friend. And then Cape Town I assume, based on what people have told me.”
I showed him the list of recommendations I had been given that I had saved in my Notes app.
“But you’ve never been? What are you going to do? You haven’t organised a place to stay? That’s brave…” he looked at me astounded.
“I might book a night or two and then see…. that’s kind of my modus operandi. Something will happen”, I replied.
“Let me give you some names and numbers. There’s a duchess I know, who lives right on the beach, she might have a room for you. How much time do you have?” He pulled out his phone.
“I don’t! I already am late! But let me give you my number. V-i-e-n-d-a” I spelt out my name. Then my number.
My cappuccino ready, I started dashing to my car. “It was so kismet to meet you! What’s your name?”
“Andrew.”
“Speak to you soon Andrew!”