You must be Henry!

Henry VIIII’ve never actually tried this to someone’s face, but I’ve often thought it must be possible to guess a person’s name by simple observing them for a few minutes. I experienced just such a moment on holiday.

We were staying in a relatively posh country hotel that was obviously not going to be occupied by the likes of your Shazzers and Dazzes, and a chap wandered into breakfast, who had the classic posho thing going on.

He was wearing a beige-coloured checked shirt, tucked into a pair of brown cords and wore a pair of brown brogues. He even talked with what sounded like an entire plum pudding in his mouth.

I instantly thought to myself, god you are the archetypal Henry. Not Hugo, or James, but Henry. And, blow me down if 5 minutes later his wife didn’t call him exactly that.

I actually wanted to stand up in the breakfast room (actually called The Orangery, to give you the idea of the hotel we were staying in) and punch the air, shouting ‘Yesss!’, but I held myself in.

Polish building supplies

ScrewsI was sitting gazing out of my window this morning, when I saw a big white van draw up over the road bearing the sign Polish Building Supplies.

Yes, the Eastern Europeans have truly gained a foothold, in the South-east at least, when they have their very own building suppliers, selling Polish makes of screw, wood and tools, among other things.

Amazing as it may seem, all those friendly handymen from the likes of Warsaw, Krakow or Gdansk, don’t pop down to Wickes or Jewson to get their screwdrivers, 4×2 and jigsaws. They buy it from their very own Polish supplier.

Now, I could always understand why Polish delicatessen has become a big thing in the UK. The likes of pickled vegetables and pierogi are not popular in your local Sainsbury or Tesco, so it was only sensible for someone to start marketing it in areas where there is a high population of Poles.

But building supplies? Isn’t a screw a screw? Aren’t all types of Rawlplug, pickaxe or dowelling much of a muchness? Surely, even a Pole shouldn’t need to buy the specific variety of nail he’s used to, should he? It’s not as if they taste any different.

Laws of Chance and Coincidence

Everyone has a remarkable story of a chance encounter, or unlikely coincidence. And, even though I know that they’re statistically likely, they still amaze me.

Coincidence, according to Wikipedia is, “the noteworthy alignment of two or more events or circumstances without obvious causal connection.”

Now I’ve just come back from a break in Somerset and amazingly bumped into someone I know in a service station on the M4.

The friend, former Top Gear presenter Jason Barlow as it happens, is currently making a C4 Dispatches programme about road pricing and was heading down to the West Country to interview someone for it.

Given that he rarely strays down the M4 and lives in Hertfordshire, and we were off on a one-time trip to Somerset, I find this a rather large coincidence. Of all the 60 million people in the UK, I was standing next to him in the queue to buy a coffee.

Obviously, a mathematician would give me a extremely logical explanation as to why it wasn’t that coincidental that we bumped into each other, but I still think it was pretty impressive. So ya boo sucks to logic!