It's 9:30am and I go to the newsagents to buy a copy of The Sunday Times. It is cold and wet outside, that heavy drenching cold that makes the outside seem a place of remoteness and absolute discomfort. A bit like when you're mildly ill, and any place outside of bed (or sofa, under quilt) becomes a new and unknown country, full of all manner of possible dangers.
The newsagent, fortunately, is only across the road. It is full of Sunday-people buying their own copy of The Sunday Times.
I am wearing my Celtic Frost 'Morbid Tales' t-shirt, and I am alarmed and pleased to discover a young asian man wearing a Celtic Frost 'Emperors Return' t-shirt. The scene is both mundane and surreal. If this were the centre of London - even the centre of Brighton, nothing might be said. Because this is a small newsagent in suburban Hove, attention must be drawn to this. We admire each others T-shirts, and say nothing of interest but 'what a coincidence!' and 'small world!'.
We sound like old men, pleased over some spurious, mundane coincidence - perhaps we once visited the same city when we were young, or attended the same wedding of a mutual friend.
I go our separate ways. The man (well young boy - the newsagent just seems to employ young boys - perhaps children or grandchildren of the proprietor) behind the counter calls back the Emperors Return man. He has forgotten his receipt. The man behind the counter seems eager that he has his receipt for his own copy of The Sunday Times. I wonder why. Why is everybody buying The Sunday Times this morning? The Emperors Return man does not seem unduly concerned about his receipt. He shakes his head, smiling, as if still delighted at the Celtic Frost T-shirt coincidence.
I pay for my own copy of The Sunday Times, and go home to a cup of tea and a bowl of porridge. I find myself quite delighted over the Celtic Frost T-shirt coincidence, though am not entirely sure why.
The porridge is enjoyable, though wish I had remembered to buy more honey the night before.