Obstacles and Mysteries.

I had one of those days in Ashbourne today, one of those days on which life expresses her disapproval of me by placing human obstacles in my path at every turn.

There was the couple I followed out of the health food shop who stopped and blocked the doorway as soon as they’d crossed the threshold.

Excuse me.

Then there was the woman who pulled a trolley off the stack at the supermarket, but stopped half way through to fiddle in her bag. I waited; I did.

Excuse me. Could I get one, too?

Then there were the two separate women, each regarding a display on opposite sides of the aisle. One held her trolley out this way, while the other held hers out that way. Steeplechase style.

Excuse me. Are you trying to erect a model of the Thames Barrier, or what?

No, I didn’t say that. I would have done once, but I’ve mellowed. I must have encountered at least six of these human chicanes during the two hours I was in the town. It was today’s trend.

Nil desperandum; I got my reward; I met Sophie in the library. How did I know it was Sophie? She was wearing a hat with ‘Sophie’ written on the front, and I have no idea why. Being attracted to both mysteries and tangents, I offered a simple greeting:

‘You must be Sophie.’

‘Yes.’

(Never fails.)

‘Did you know your name comes from the Greek for wisdom?’

‘Somebody else told me that.’

(Damn. I do so like being the first.)

‘I gather you sing folk music at events.’

Third time lucky; the engine roared and Sophie was away. We talked about folk music and spirituality, until she suddenly rushed off without warning. And I have no idea why.