Today I walked passed a harmonica player. Well, I say player, he was playing, but I shouldn’t let that define him. I mean, he might want to be a deep sea diver or a cosmologist and I wouldn’t want to pigeonhole him. But today he was playing his harmonica*. He was sat on the wall as I strolled by and I detected a small exasperated sigh mid-puff. Almost immediately after I encountered a smashed Easter egg on the ground.

*I assume his; it might have been on loan.

Sights such as this usually send me into OCD mode and I was instantly worried that a dog walker would come along, their dog would eat it all and then die instantly right there on the pavement. The harmonica player would then have to play some sort of lament for Rover and a passing hipster would remove his man bun and hold it to his chest in respect. If it wasn’t for the embarrassment of doing it in front of the harmonica player I probably would have stopped and tried to clear it all up. But in view of his watchful eye I carried on. I then mused that it wasn’t dark chocolate so probably not as lethal and that any walker would presumably stop said pooch before they could eat a deadly dose. And thus my day was saved from ruin.

As if summoned by my thoughts, a man with three identical looking dogs then appeared in front of me. As a reminder that my OCD is habit rather than based on any actual genuine fear, instead of worrying about their impending egg shaped obstacle, I only marveled at their appearance. It was as if the man had thought, yes I like this dog, I’m going to create a couple of back-ups just in case*. But then I felt that was quite superficial of me. After all, I have two black cats that other people can’t seem to tell apart, despite it seeming obvious to me. And besides, I didn’t get the second one because he matched the first**. I got them because there was something about their character I liked. Black cats are reportedly often overlooked for re-homing in comparison with their more extravagantly patterned counterparts, but my part in addressing this imbalance was purely coincidental. So I realised this was probably the same for the man. There was something about their personalities he responded to. And dogs being pack animals it makes sense to group them up, they always seem happier that way.

*Which reminds me I need to update my hard drive.  

**or because black goes with everything, although it is a delightful bonus.

So it was this odd combination of three things in quick succession that pleased me. It allowed me to create a whole back story in my head as I resumed my journey. I imagined the smashed egg was the Easter bunny’s wife finding out he’d had an affair, “and take your stupid work with you!” Perhaps he was having it off with the harmonica player. Or he’d brought in the player to ease the tension. But the egg was in too many pieces to have only been smashed once, so I then imagined two tiny flamenco dancers in full exotic dress stomping on it to a rhythmic beat (accompanied by harmonica). They would then act as a barrier to the approaching dogs, preventing any lapping up of the evil eggshell. They may even mount the dogs and charge in unison at the man walking them, punishing him for his evil duplication experiments.

All this mind-running silliness reminded me of a story I’ve been dipping in and out of for years. Sort of set in our world but not. Almost exactly the same, but slightly off somehow, and in as delightfully silly a way you can imagine. It’s how I wish the world was sometimes. We go about our business as normal, but there’s always something ever so slightly surreal going on in the background. But that was always the easy part, it was the main plot I struggled with. As with a lot of what I write it’s trying to be too many things at once.  That’s why little meanderings like this are important. Blogs are allowed to be a random stream of nonsense thought. A way I can get it all out of my system before I settle down to concentrate on a single main theme. Time will tell if it works I guess.

But in the meantime, days like this are why I walk into town rather than get the bus. If I haven’t got a clear idea for my day’s work, a walk will inevitably help. You need to see the quirks around you, be open to the opportunities. So if I’m not pressed for time, I’ll walk. After all, you never know when the next harmonica playing, flamenco dancing dog is waiting for you. Just don’t tell the Easter Bunny’s wife.