I think you can put almost every event in life down to fate - if you want to. And some things are a bit like tossing a coin - you'll never know what would have happened had the coin landed the other side, and if it had you could call whatever events happened after that, fate, too. If that makes sense.
Having said that, I do think there are some strange events/coincidences that happen where the possibilites of them happening must be millions to one.
I'm not sure if this is fate, but the probabilities of me ever meeting my partner before Monsieur Strawberry were probably about zero. A whole chain of events happened that shouldn't have happened (if that makes sense) but then it could of course all be coincidence. To start with I was going to Amsterdam (I was newly separated from my husband) and I was meeting up with my Norwegian boyfriend who was working in Holland on a contract. He was an engineer. A marine engineer - he deigned oil rigs (nothing to do with my story, but I like people to know what he did
) anyway, I couldn't find my passport anywhere! Grrrrrrr! Now, I ALWAYS ALWYAYS ALWAYS keep my passport in the same exact place - so it was a complete mystery why I couldn't find it.
In those days (the olden days, lol) 1994 actually, you could go to the Post Office and get a yearly passport, so off I walked to Woolworth's where they had a passport photo booth. I got all that way - and it was broken. I managed to find another photo-booth in the High Street - and the photo's jammed and wouldn't come out! Time was running out, so I dashed to the train station where there was another photo booth. That one was working (phew!) so when I came out the booth I went to the little shop selling sweets in the station and bought some chewing gum. I stood back unwrapping the packet and became aware of the two men running the shop staring at me and trying to flirt (I think they could have been Turkish, actually) Anyway, this got on my nerves, so I walked just ouside the station to avoid them looking at me and I caught sight of a free newspaper/magazine box. Inside were lots of copies of Miss London (not something I ever read) but picked it up as a good excuse to make myself look 'occupied'
You know how Turks just love to STARE!
Anyway, after four minutes my photo's came out the machine, and off I went to the Post Office to buy my passport (imagine trying to buy a passport over the Post Office counter nowadays!)
I'd obviously slipped the magazine in my shoulder bag, and never gave it another thought. When I got home I went to the armchair where I always sat and started sorting all my stuff out for my trip, and must have thrown the magazine down under the coffee table, even though it was effectively junk and I had no intention in reading it.
I went to Amsterdam where Bjorn was waiting for me (had a fab time
) and then I came home about a week later. Bjorn always rang me in the morning and then in the evening (very punctual, Norwegians!
) and one morning, just after I'd come in from walking my dog I made myself a coffee knowing Bjorn would be ringing in about five minutes or so. As I sat drinking it my dog started rummaging around for one of his balls and in doing so this Miss London magazine that I'd still not thrown out slid onto my feet. So I picked it up and it flicked onto a page of adverts, one of which was an advertisement for flying lessons. What was unusual about that was the owner of the Flying School hadn't meant to put the advert in that magazine (it was SO unsuited for its readership) but by another string of unusual events it had mistakenly got placed in just that one edition before it was cancelled.
And that was how I ended up taking flying lessons.
Of course, it could have all been pure coincidence, but it did feel afterwards as though it was fated and was meant to happen.
Strawbs