Lunchtime drinking has much to recommend it, like pre-prandial catatonia. Today, it has the added benefit of throwing up an interesting philosophical discussion concerning the nature of coincidence.
During a conversation about music, I mention some of the best gigs I’ve attended over the course of the last five years. By chance, it turns out that a new colleague at work was at every single one of them.
‘That’s flabbergasting,’ I say, and then proceed to get so banjaxed that my own friends start laughing at me.
The secret wearer of jewellery thinks I drink too much. She’s probably right.