The Missing Credit Card
'What are the chances'?
This report doesn’t follow my chosen theme of slugs, snails and squirrels. Instead, it tells of an event this afternoon so unlikely, so extraordinary that it has left me shaking my head in wonder.
“What were the chances..?”
I live in a reasonably well-to-do town in the south east of England. It boasts a population of around 116,000, including its satellite villages.
Until a couple of years ago, I participated in a local running group as one of the coaches. Over the years, I came to know by name most of the members who attended regularly and I keep in touch with some of them, even though the group itself folded. My June, 2024 Substack ‘Motorcycle crash victim to Marathon runner’ tells that story.
This afternoon, I went for a walk with my faithful, furry companion in a nearby forest – one of our favourites. About two hundred metres along the first of the tracks lay someone’s credit card. When I turned it over, I was astonished to recognise the name of the account holder – Hester was one of those lovely ladies who would turn up on Tuesday nights, regular as clockwork, providing the train home from London delivered her to our station in time.
But how to contact her?
Again, Lady Luck stepped in. A couple of years ago, I’d been working in the garage when Hester and her small children had visited my neighbour – their children were in the same class at school. I contacted my neighbour – yes, she would forward me Hester’s telephone number.
I called immediately. And left a voicemail.
Not two minutes later, Hester called me back. She was still running around that same forest and was, in fact, returning along the same track in my direction.
She didn’t even know the card was missing.
So – I ask again – what were the chances that out of those 116,000 people, the card loser and the card finder would traverse the same track in a wood around the same time; they’d be acquainted and be able to make contact to fix the problem which was in danger of arising?
If any budding mathematicians might like to flex their intellect at this, I’d be appreciative - and admiring.
For those of you who yearn for updates on my war with certain of the fauna around here, I have dug out an old 0.177 air rifle, bought for me when I was a lad. Ten minutes on the internet sourced a new gasket and a tin of pellets. Hostilities will commence in earnest once I’ve got my eye in. Some practice is necessary!
(Before anybody upbraids me, I know I have to refinish the stock. A full service is necessary. The gun is over half a century old)!
To encourage me further, I’ve downloaded several recipes for squirrel stew. They all sound very tempting but require two or three animals at a minimum for the pot. In this endeavour, my aforementioned furry companion is not going to be helpful. He isn’t a retriever; more a ‘chaser-away’. And if the squirrel isn’t quick off the mark, then his secondary adopted role is ‘eater’.
It’ll take months of diligent training to stop him scarfing up any squirrels I kill. Or I leave him indoors, his barking rendering my stealthy approach useless.
Nevertheless, I’m optimistic that I’ll be enjoying squirrel stew later this year. Provided the bloody slugs don’t eat all my herbs and vegetables again.
