And Then...

Yesterday was a singular sort of day full of minor but unusual happenstances.

When I was driving to Ashbourne on the main road I found it blocked off by traffic cones and a large vehicle parked sideways. There had been no prior warning and there were no diversion signs. (It was situated close to the end of a side road which leads to where the Lady B now lives, and I was tempted to wonder whether the dear old Universe was giving me another of those arcane messages it often prods me with. Don’t worry, Universe, I’ve got that message now.) Anyway, it forced me to take a detour down a narrow, winding lane with which I was entirely unfamiliar. I told myself to keep turning right at every opportunity and I was bound to end up in the right place. It worked.

And then when I got to Ashbourne I kept going into shops which I rarely go into and finding things I’d been wanting for a while. I ended up spending money in five of them, which is most unusual for me. I think two might be my previous record (or it might be three, but it’s certainly never amounted to five before.)

And then the heavens opened and Ashbourne took to resembling Mumbai for a short while, such was the monsoon-like deluge which engulfed it.

And then, after the rainstorm had abated, I saw a young woman walking along the street wearing shorts, and she had the most outstandingly perfect pair of legs I’ve ever seen. (And I’m not exaggerating here. They really were outstandingly perfect.) Not being one to avoid giving compliments where they’re due, I desperately wanted to approach her and offer my good opinion. I decided against it because it would be most improper for an elderly man – and a gentleman to boot – to approach a perfect stranger with ‘Excuse me miss, but I have to tell you that you have the most outstandingly perfect legs I’ve ever seen.’ I shudder to think what her response might have been, so I dragged myself reluctantly onward, rueing the business of ageing for at least the 1,000^th time this year.

And then when I’d finished my shopping and began the drive back, I discovered that the other half of the carriageway was blocked off in a different place, so I had to take a different detour to the one I’d taken to get there. Something else I’ve never known happen before. I expect there was a reason.

And when I did finally make it back here, the litre bottle of scotch which was in my back pack decided to leap out and commit suicide on the quarry-tile floor. Much mopping and clearing of broken glass ensued, but at least I just about avoided wailing verbally at the loss of £18.50. (I did, however, wail silently quite a lot.)

And when I finally sat down to eat the egg and cress sandwich I’d bought in Sainsbury’s and found it squashed by the weight and volume of things I’d been uncharacteristically buying, I looked out of the window and saw a sparrow hawk land on the birds’ feeding table looking mean. I think it’s only the second time I’ve seen that in the seventeen years I’ve lived here.

So what was I to make of all these minor but unusual happenstances? Were the stars in some confused alignment yesterday, or was I being especially favoured? Oddly, I had considered leaving my usual Wednesday shop until Thursday because the weather forecast was so bad, but the weather was fine enough in the morning so I decided to go out as usual. And who knows what might have happened if I hadn’t changed my mind, for we can never second guess fate, can we?