Weird little things...

I read this thing years ago about coincidence and probability and that the laws of probability suggest that there should be more coincidences in our lives than there (probably) are. But that doesn't stop us going "eek" when those little improbable coincidences happen, does it?

Yesterday, for instance. The day before the anniversary of my dad's death. I wanted a book for the train but didn't know which one of the hundreds of tomes that litter our house to take. With no time to spare I just reached my arm out and it landed on Alan Bennett's Forty Years On and other plays. Which, in itself, isn't the important bit. So I got on the train, and I was thinking about how I'd feel today and how I wished I could take my old man for a beer, and, as I opened Mr Bennett's work, a piece of paper fell out of the book. It was the piece of paper containing the poem that I read as part of the eulogy I delivered at dad's funeral . But, like I say, there should be more of these little coincidences. And there are. I started reading the play Getting On, which is in the book. And I got to this speech that the character George, an MP, is planning to deliver on the television. And he starts talking about people as leftovers. Last night, someone got in touch with me to tell me more about a project they're working on that they want me to help out with. It's called Leftovers. Weird, those little moments, aren't they?