Desperately Seeking A Squad

Moving towns can be tough. Daisy Buchanan goes the extra mile to find herself a new crew.

- Daisy Buchanan

I am a loser. A complete loser. Ten minutes ago, I had a whole different set of labels for myself – author, journalist, wife, sister, gelato obsessive, late-’90s hip-hop enthusiast – but now, sitting all by myself, I’m simply a desperate idiot. I’m in a coffee shop that’s normally bustling with people, but today it’s eerily quiet. I stir my tea and stare out at the beach. It’s a bleak, windswept day, but the view out of the window makes me feel slightly more cheerful than the one that surrounds me – I can see nothing but empty chairs. I feel like they’re glaring at me, gloating over my loneliness.

For the past two weeks, I’ve been covering Margate with flyers. I ordered leaflets online announcing that I was new to town, asking people if they wanted to [e-mail]. I left them at busy bars and cafés, my gym, the chip shop, my local Tesco and even a retirement home. And I couldn’t just sneak in, pin them up and dash out again. I needed to ask permission. Which involved pushing my shoulders back, marching up to the till and saying, “Hello, can I put this up? I’m trying to make new friends!” Thankfully, no one turned me down. Probably out of pity, but hey, I’ll take what I can.

The emails, after a few days and frantic tab refreshing, began to trickle in, leading me here, waiting in this coffee shop for the four women who a) replied and b) didn’t sound like they would try to lure me into their car and then murder me in the woods.