All roads lead to Bugsplat.

Around a huge change in circumstances, if there is time and space for it, there tends to be a kind of sprawling, crazy, crowded, noisy, political, socially frantic kind of (unpleasantly student-esque) convention at Polly HQ.
(Polly HQ? That's my poor overtilled little brain we're talking about.)

Different factions form and campaign for whatever cause is currently dearest to their hearts or useful to their agendas. I remember the "More Socks" coalition once managed to completely dominate one of these events some years ago. There are always the vegans who in previous years would align themselves with almost ANYTHING in pursuit of their single purpose but have grown more discerning lately. I've given up trying to have my way these days, since it really is too late for us to be the beautiful dark-haired young lesbian living in Brunswick fighting-for-justice lawyer I always wanted us to be. Pity. I think I would have liked that.

Oh you would not. You would have made a fool of yourself over some married woman, broken your heart when you realised the inherent moral bankruptcy of the adversarial system, developed a speed addiction and would have had to quit altogether and retire to the country to indulge in exquitely painful unrequited love for the girls who work in the shop.

Well, yes, perhaps all roads do lead to Bugsplat.