It was one of those carefully choreographed moments, the type that don’t quite seem convincing when you see them in a film.
The venue for this slightly unlikely scene was the vet’s surgery, where Ginger Cat had been less than delighted to receive his booster vaccinations. I was standing at the counter when someone walked in and stood behind me, ever so slightly to my left. I finished paying my bill and was turning to the right, towards the door that I was about to head out through, when the man – who had been patiently waiting for his turn – started to speak to the receptionist to explain why he was there.
That was when it occurred to me: with my winter coat, scarf and hat there was no way the unknown man could have seen who I was. The fact that he had stood in the space to my left, but waited politely a step back from the counter meant that I didn’t see him.
As I was about to leave I had a momentary vision of myself shouting at the TV (yes, I admit it), telling the characters who are about to pass each other by to turn around and look behind them. Maybe that’s why I finally turned around.
Good job I did, I hadn’t seen my former housemate G in years. It was nice to see him again, even though I nearly didn’t.
Photo: International pantomime festival in Tsaghkadzor, Armenia by kokeshi. Used under Creative Commons Licence.
[…] the second carefully choreographed little scene I’ve played out in the space of a few weeks. How odd. Is my life actually a fly-on-the-wall […]