Dear Alaya,
I cannot take full responsibility for being clever. You will have to praise my gene pool.
What I like most about anthropology is learning about ancient culture. Not the ones in traditional history books, but the ones that predate Vikings, Romans and the worship of sun gods. I wonder what it was like without all the smoke stacks. That is what I miss about Scotland and the whiskey. I used to get homesick for Scotland regularly. That has changed since going to university and the moment you have entered my life, I look forward to appreciating London a bit more. I hope we can make plans ... soon?
Currently, we are studying the human body. In a few days, we will be opening up a cadaver to learn first hand instead of looking at pictures in "Grey's Anatomy". Although, looking at a dead body has me a bit troubled. I wonder if any of the cadavers is a criminal caught by your family.
I agree money isn't a priority. Although my peers at university all come from a particular class of income; there are no poor students at university. My mother's encouragement is well received and I am challenged. If the hardest choice, I have to make my entire life is a medical specialty I shall count myself lucky.
Habits? Doesn't everyone? I whisper to myself sometimes (correction all the time). It helps me clarify things I feel or want to understand. My emotions can get the best of me, especially if I am not in control of my destiny. I whisper mostly for my comfort or when I want to talk to my mother. Running a business doesn't allow for privacy. I whisper so soft I hope John or angels can't hear.
John is my mother's assistant. He helped my mother get started in her business back in Tobermory. Once my mother's business turned a profit he disappeared. About four years ago he came into my mother's shop looking for a job. He looked terrible. My mother owes him for her start and now he lives with us. He has his own room, seldom eats dinner with us and not at any time socializes casual or formal. My mother believes John has as Walt Whitman writes, Adhesive love. I have gotten used to John's quiet disposition, but he still makes me uncomfortable because there are many unknowns. Besides, this man never looked me in the eye, not once.
Hand to hand combat? You sound very strong. Are you sure your name isn't Aegea, Queen of the Amazons? Carpe natibus!
I have a cricket bat, and I can swing for four's for hours. Which means if I must I will protect you with my mighty swing. I learned cricket and "truth is singular" from my mother's friend when I first moved to London. He would meet me, with my Mother's consent, after school and tell me fantastic stories to make sure that I was not lonely. He taught me history of my mother and soon he would bring books for me to learn about the universe, ancient civilizations and how man evolved. Does that offend that I believe in evolution?
My free time? When we living in Tobermory, I would go to school in addition to working in my mother's shop in the afternoon ironing. My mother wanted me to have greater educational opportunity, and I am quite grateful. Since we moved to London, I no longer required to work in the shop, but I help out holidays or when short staffed. Saturdays are set aside to spoil myself a bit. I head over to Hyde Park (when it is warm) and read until my eyes become tired. But the sun is going down earlier and earlier, soon I shall be limited to the indoors.
My typical day also begins at six in the morning. I have lectures at University until 9:00 am and then off to labs. After which I have a bite to eat, depending on client's need I go with my typewriter, or I head home to study. Sometimes I leave my typewriter at home to write in shorthand and type later, but that is, usually, saved for inclement conditions.
Sleuthing at night sounds terribly dangerous. Are you not scared? What do you wear? I imagine a skirt impractical attire. Are you working on a complicated case? Or maybe you can't tell me if that is the case my apologies. How many cases do you work in a day? Where do you get the cases? I looked through the newspaper and British telephone directory and could not find an advertisement.
Your Friend,
Fiona Saint Clair
P.S. You know my last name! Excellent, what else?