Serendipity
Sunday and the thirtieth Covid blog. đ
I really wasnât sure what I was going to write about today. There are usually incidents that lend itself to my weekly blog and although there was a memory that stirred strongly this week, I am not quite ready to share it widely.
However, it felt important enough for me to put pen to paper. It was sparked from the lyrics to a song that isnât often played on the airwaves. When it is, this memory always floods my thoughts and it felt time to finally mark its memory in verse.
There will be a time, I think it reads on paper but I want to it to be a performance piece (although heaven knows when). To explain the history before speaking aloud. It is a memory that truly deserves another moment to shine.
Our lives are full of moments, sometimes they remain utterly buried until we are nudged by a thought or a song or someone sharing their own similar stories.
I did indeed share one such event this week, one of unusual serendipity.
My former Father in Law had an accident in his twenties, falling off the side of a boat. Unfortunately this resulted in the need for a hip replacement and this being unusual in someone so young, he was told the wear and tear would mean it would be needed to again be replaced at least twice in his lifetime. In his latter forties, he was sent to a specialist orthopaedic hospital, one which had beautiful and extensive grounds.
While visiting my Father in Law, he informed us that the man in the next bed was an author, he hadnât heard of him but the moment he said his name I knew who he was and of a book he had recently written. I had actually read this book having been interested in his previous novel due to it being adapted for television, one that explored a love affair between two young men of different cultures.
The next time we visited my Father in Law as a family my Daughter, who was around three, began to become restless and so I took her outside to play in the garden with her ball.
After a little while, I sat down on a bench while she played, which was when said author joined me. He was very striking and quite resplendent in a white linen kurta and leather flip flops. He was older than I, with long jet black curly hair and a presence it felt, of extreme wisdom. I was both nervous and in awe, even though he seemed kind and friendly.
His opening line was to tell me, he believed I had read his book and he then asked unusually I felt, my thoughts. The author was a young Hanif Kureishi and the book was âThe Buddha of Surburbia.â
I said that I thought it was surprising and not what I had expected at all, that I liked that the main character was in love with the theatre. I also asked him how he started with a novel. He then told me something profound, advice I have constantly followed and adhered to:
âAlways write about what you know.â
It also startled me slightly as the novel was raucous and sexually charged and it made me feel quite peculiar, to know that he knew I had read it, most especially after his sound advice.
He then preceded to gently play catch with my Daughter, telling me that his girlfriend had a little boy around the same age too. It was one of those chance meetings and a moment that stayed with me.
We only talked at length once, he smiled and winked when we said goodbye. Which again slightly unnerved me, as he really was quite beautiful.
Before he left the hospital (Kureishi was discharged first) he signed and wrote a personal message in a copy of his novel which he gave to my Father in Law. I know they had talked extensively during this time.
My Father in Law did read it but he told me it really wasnât his kind of book. I wasnât too surprised, he being more of a John Grisham kind of a guy.
Many years later, when my Daughter was older and studying English at university, she rang excitedly to tell me that she was about to read and study âThe Buddha of Suburbiaâ by Hanif Kureishi as part of the course. The very author who she had enjoyed playing ball with as a little girl.
It is not a story I tell very often, another of those hidden gems, moments we keep to ourselves until something or someone highlights our memory.
Life is full of these unexpected moments, paths that twist and cross. We never seem to know when or how or why?
Perhaps we are not meant to know, maybe it is why these meetings are so special?
I seem to be blessed with a sprinkling of these rare moments throughout my life and I hope with all my heart, that they never stop.
I hope you too, have encountered and continue to encounter these moments of serendipity. The brief rendezvous, the vivid colours, that add to the ever changing tapestry of our lives.
Stay Safe,
Joy xxx