Chance Encounters

                                 In 1982 I was on a flight back from Delhi to London. The beauty of such flights is that one has no idea with whom one is going to sit. An older gentleman squeezed in and took the window seat next to me. After the negotiation of his entry which included me getting up and waiting for a break in the crowd of people making their way to the back of the plane, we settled down next to each other. He extended a hand, told me his name and we prepared for take off.  He took an interest in my travels and my journey so it was some time before I was able to get a word in to hear about his time in India. He was a Caucasian Brit who had been an officer in the Ghurka Regiment in World War II. This is an anachronistic part of the British Army which recruited its soldiers from Nepal. He spoke fluent Ghurkali. He had been in Nepal to lay the foundation stone of a new school they were building for the local children. I asked about his war experience which consisted mostly of fighting against the Japanese. He told me that it was never a good idea to get too close to one’s comrades in arms because death and uncertainty were too traumatic if one was too much of a friend. But he had become close to one fellow officer and was naturally upset when he was severely wounded in battle. Thinking that his mate was going to die, he reached down and removed his glasses because he needed some himself and, obviously, they were going to be no good to his doomed comrade. Then he smiled ruefully at me and said,

“And do you know, he still reminds me of that to this day?”

Point is that this was an encounter of two complete strangers flung together on a plane. I can’t remember his name and he will have long since left the planet but I do remember that story and I do remember the flight going quickly in his company. That was 40 years ago.

Two houses up from us in the neighbourhood there is the strip park, a narrow ribband about 20 metres wide which has the fences of residential back gardens on either side. It is called Alderwood Park. There are several large trees overhanging the path and a bushy area in the middle  about  three quarters of the way down. It comes out after about 700 steps at the local daycare and Norgate School. It is frequented by dog walkers, the occasional runners and very few cyclists, thank goodness.

Because I am who I am when I pass down this trail as I do most mornings on the way to morning coffee , I give greetings to all and sundry. Some respond with an unwelcoming grunt and an expression that suggests that I have invaded their thoughts and they really wish I hadn’t. So what, Dear Reader, I am 70 years old and I care not a jot for such a response. Most people, however, muster a smile and, if they are dog owners, allow me to pass the time of day with their pooches. So, Ash, Riley, Spencer, Porthos, Pepper, Rollo, Bones, Timber, Alan, Max are but just a few of the dogs who have suffered the onset of a Davidson greeting. I speak to their owners about all kinds of nonsense. Collective nouns are not really a subject to talk about in the dawn’s early light but I did it anyway. Rob the owner of two beautiful Newfies came up with the idea of ‘a fool of dog owners’. I need to shut up and be less exuberant in the morning, mumble a greeting and head off for my caffeine fix at Maree Scott’s wonderful establishment. But, as I said before, Dear Friends, I am 70 years old.

Two days ago,  I ran into a young man sitting on a park bench. I was about to assail him with my quotation,

“Oh what doth ail thee, gentle knight, alone and palely loitering”

But I stopped myself just in time, thinking  I could do better than that. But, this open faced 17 year old, got in before me, headed me off at the pass. He commented on the burgeoning warmth of the day, the possibility of rain. We were off and running. I asked him about himself and he told me that he was off to work. It transpires that he works for a new business called “Urban Axe Throwing”. The slogan on his card which he gave to me states:-

“Learn hand-eye coordination and anger management.”

He explained to me that they would teach me how to throw axes and manage my anger in the process. There is a picture on the card of an angry looking raccoon with an axe handle in its mouth.  I have to say, Dear Reader, that I thought about giving it a try. The idea that I could go in there and throw an axe at a life size picture of Vladimir Putin or Donald Trump was indeed tempting but there was no guarantee that such props would be available. Then I thought again.

You see, Dear Friends, Testosterone is rapidly leaving the Davidson body, giving up on a lost cause and seeking a home in a younger being.  There have been signs over the last few years that Testosterone is calling it a day and heading off to pastures new. First rate workers who have served well over the years, have been congregating in weird parts of the body and holding union meetings about leaving the sinking ship. Complaints like,”Not giving us the attention we deserve, salaries falling behind a living wage, being sacked without so much as a by your leave and getting in the way of their traditional manner of working” have been rumbling around for many years now. It is obvious that the Union of Testosterone Workers is about to call it a day. It is true I still might muster the grumpy old man on occasions but the full blown, red in the face, road rage, ‘punch- your- lights- out apoplexy’ no longer exists. That which once was is now a mere grumble, a flustered frown and a muttering and mumbling under one’s breath.  I do not blame the coming departure on anybody but myself. So, my friends, I do not need ‘Urban Axe Throwing’ to manage my anger but should you wish their web site then here it is:- info@urbanaxe.ca

But, Dear Reader, what has not waned in old age is the sheer pleasure of meeting somebody new; trying to understand what makes them tick; discovering what interests them and, most important of all, finding out if we have something in common. I do tend to leave a trail of bored, yawning people in my wake whenever I go for a walk. And, often, if they see me coming, they suddenly change direction or find that they are late for an appointment. But I am 70 years old so not too concerned about that.

Thanks for reading.