This morning seemed to start badly; I was hoping to see an old friend named Alexandra for the last time before I return to France, but unfortunately she cancelled on me at the last minute. I decided to head in to town anyway but was half an hour late for my train - it had taken me longer to unpick the stitching on my new suit than I thought it would. In any case, I arrived at about 10.15 and strolled gently up the hill, pausing at a small coffee shop on the way and considering bestowing my custom upon them.
I had decided to sit, drink a coffee, and read a couple of new books recommended to me by my friends the Crouches. I decided to eschew this particular establishment in favour of the old fallback, Nero's, and as I arrived so did Alexandra, from the opposite direction.
The circumstances that had led to her cancelling on me had since been rectified, and she now had 45 minutes to spare - we could have our coffee after all. It is odd, however, that had I not come into town anyway, had I not paused at the earlier coffee shop, I would have missed her entirely. I had no phone on me; she could not have contacted me. It is peculiar that circumstances conspired in such a way.
Just to ensure that the message was clear, I met up with another old school friend immediately after bidding goodbye to Alexandra. Her name is also Alexandra.
I do not believe in the inherently flawed notion of Fate, and the odds of my meeting an old school friend who is employed close to where she lives are actually very likely. It is only from inside the system that it appears random and therefore astonishing when I meet, par hasard, two old schoolfriends of equal beauty and charm called Alexandra.
All on a day when I'm wearing a new charcoal three-piece suit and looking absolutely topping.
It would be nice to believe in Fate, because then I could say with reasonable enthusiasm that it is clear that my next relationship will be with someone called Alexandra, because beautiful and charming Alexandras keep dropping into my life. Believing that would ensure I remain on the lookout for Alexandras, even Alexandras who aren't as charming or as beautiful as my good friends, and from there the prophecy becomes self-fulfilling.
Luckily I have no truck with such things, and so my next relationship could be a Mary, a Kate, or a Paula.
Or an Alexandra. Just because I don't believe in omens, it doesn't make them untrue...