Why?

Why does stuff happen? Does it all matter? Does any of it matter?

My son left a bottle of champagne on the kitchen table. The champagne was his. He was in the shower. I put the the bottle back in the fridge where it's been for....ages. He got himself ready, grabbed his keys and left the house.

"Did you put my champagne back in the fridge?" he asked when he called an hour later.

"Yes," I said.

"I put it on the table so I wouldn't forget it." He said. "Now I've forgotten it."

"Oh," I said. "Sorry, shall I bring it over?"

He and a friend found a few leftover bottles when they were loading out kit after some big match at Wembley; an occasional perk from an occasional job working long hours for very little money through the night.....so why not? He had been wondering when to open it and the last night of the show he'd been doing the sound on seemed as good a time as any. It was only half an hours brisk walk through the leafy north London streets. The clouds had parted and the sun was simmering in the blue; a warm if not quite balmy evening. I had planned to do nothing on this particular Saturday: no socialising, no alcohol, no food, just catch up with Nurse Jackie, The Kennedys and Mildred Pierce, all backed up after my week in France. So, I set off and as I walked I wondered why this random event had to happen.

My son was standing out on the balcony, smoking a cigarette and chatting with an attractive young women who apparently was doing the lights. I handed over the bottle and turned to go walking straight into Sean Bean, hunky-northern-ne'er-do-well-actor.

" 'Scuse me love," he beamed........shorter than I'd have imagined. Odd, I thought, maybe that was why.

As I walked back I stopped to by some anchovies.....delicious and highly nutritious.....and they had an offer on ...... Disaronno.........one of my most favourite drinks, poured over ice, delicious if perhaps not so nutritious. Maybe that was why I'd made this un-scheduled trip out, I mused.

After the anchovies and several tumblers of the Ameretto, the ice-clinking seductively in the glass, I watched yet another movie, staying up hours and hours later than I'd planned for my low-key evening. But I was enjoying myself, I thought maybe that was why I'd had to go out unexpectedly? Then I got a text from an alcoholic poet I recently met: the teeth are false, the scars are real and he makes Fat Boy, the most recent-ex, look like a boy scout....however, he does laugh like a pirate and who doesn't love a pirate?

Great, I thought, I'm still up, I can text back........perhaps that was why my plans for the evening had changed. And so I engaged in some late night missives. I'm leaving my phone off today.......and why doesn't matter.

Top tip: never drink and text.