Last month, G and I were sat in a tapas bar in Seville discussing traffic police. It must be understood that traffic police are endearingly referred to as ‘Rats’ by themselves as well as other members of the Metropolitan Police Service. It was by this moniker we were discussing them when a man dressed as a cheese walked past.
Without missing a beat I asked, ‘Was that a man dressed as a cheese?’ G replied in the affirmative, paused only for moment to shrug his shoulders and proffer a gentle ‘Meh’ and then carried on with the conversation.
Later I reflected on it the ability of the world to create bizarre coincidence and also how often if a thing is discussed it becomes reality.
After I posted last weeks blog, regarding our impending homelessness, I decided to try and give the universe a bit of a shove and ring the solicitor. I’d been trying the estate agent for a whole week prior who frankly regarded our plight as something as an inconvenience to her, and appeared to do nothing about it. Happily, the solicitor was more dynamic and so now, less than a week later we have exchanged and have a completion date of Thursday and a van booked for Friday.
The relief is overwhelming.
Even when we rented late last year, we knew we had a maximum of six months there before whatever money we had scraped together dried up. The situation was very desperate, but now, finally we have made a huge leap of progress. We have secured an anchor of stability. A castle to guard and cherish. And most importantly, a base from which to regain an identity.
I have no idea what that identify looks like yet but I do know that it will be healthy, happy and fit.