Mr Telling

In my journeys, it the small things that define a gentleman’s attention. And graces allow, the meetings of strangers will speak the best introduction to culture.
Mr Zanzibar mentioned this ‘ning’ to me on a walkway in Caledon. The Google butler did its usual good work and secured an entry to your society. Here I am and asked to say something about myself.
Please call me Mr Telling.
I am settled in Caledon, first as a sailor on its waters, then as a renter in Port Caledon and now as a part owner in a Regency plot. I am a romancer of the vistas in Caledon. I am captured by its spirit and often walk alone among its shops and wonders.
I have yet to visit New Babbage, a situation which will be remedied very shortly.
I am the oldest of 47 children. I have been a flier since before my siblings were born. The country of my birth is simply lost in the many pathways I have traveled. I know that I shall never see it again. It may no longer exist.
My last name is not Telling, having been born without a surname, you see. But in these charming lands I am Mr Telling and quite happy of it. ‘Mr Telling’ has a sound of companionship–where a stranger might offer you membership in some wholly new experience just as you stroll a park hoping to catch another wonderful sunset.
If you have need of more than this, we shall speak of it some day soon, I’m sure.

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