Of course not, that's why it's called coincidence. Isn't it? Whatever it is, coincidences seem to litter my life, whether they be insignificant moments of similarity shared between flatmates thinking the same thing or life-changing, career-defining accidents, coincidences seem to stalk me like my own shadow.
But can it really be mere coincidence that, on leaving London to move north for university, my former employer opens one extra office in the whole country, that just happened to be in the very city to which I relocated. And it's not as if I moved to Birmingham or Manchester – I'm in Preston. I'm in humble, out-of-the-way little Preston.
The opening of the new office guaranteed me a job on leaving uni and a pretty healthy income before I had even finished the second year. Two shifts a week earned me £180 a week, that's roughly £720 a month and about £7,000 a year, when you account for seven or eight weeks spent back at home. It should really have been enough to pay off the old student loan, and maybe even prevent the debt building up in the first place, but so strong are these wastrels tendencies that I so frequently bow down to, it all went over the bar or into the quiz machine.
Back to the main point, is it really just coincidence that, in 2010, a cloud of volcanic ash affecting millions of travellers in and out of Europe, dispersed the very day I flew home from the Kentucky Derby. All the while record-breaking floods raged in all the adjoining states.
My mother would tell me someone's watching over me, whereas my dad would say that Karma or fate will one day catch up with me. Actually, I'd probably say the Karma bit myself, not because I'm a Buddhist or because my name is Earl - it's not - just because it sounds good.
******
Flying over Greenland is different, in a weird kind of way. Miles from the shore the sun begins bouncing off bright white specks of ice dotting the ocean's surface. Whether it's the Atlantic or the Arctic I can't be sure, does the Arctic have clear borders? Or is it just called the Arctic where where the conditions are below freezing. No, by that logic, the Antarctic would be hot.
A choc ice is handed to me. A what? Erm, a choc ice.
It must have been some 10 years since I've had a choc ice and now I'm handed one as I'm flying over ice-encrusted Greenland. How twee, An ice cream while over the ice caps. Has the curse of coincidence struck again? At the most opportune of moments (you'll notice that coincidences only ever occur at opportune moments, such is their nature. I think when a coincidence occurs at an inopportune moment it is called irony).
More likely it's just Richard Branson letting us know that he still has a sense of humour - we know Richard, we've all heard of
Virgin Interglactic.
******
I was talking about coincidence wasn't I? Before I got seduced by ice caps and choc ices. I apologise, you'll have to bear with me, this happen at times. The most recent coincidence to befall my most illogical existence, and the very reason I'm up here above the world, writing about coincidences, kicked into gear just after Christmas at a good friend's house.
"You're into Hunter S Thompson, aren't you?" He said, "I've been looking into the artwork surrounding his Gonzo journalism."
This in itself was a coincidence as 10 days previously, a chance encounter with somebody to whom I have only ever said "Hello and "I'm fine thanks" brought up those very words. "You're into Hunter S Thompson aren't you?"
It has to be said, I wasn't really "into" the controversial cult figure, who pushed journalism against over and beyond the bounds of reason and decency. The extent of my interest, and knowledge, was that I had watched Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas enough times in my second yearto master his walk - or at least Johnny Depp's interpretation of his walk.
[I feel the need to point out that the plane's in-flight "SkyMap" now displays a bad animation of Elvis underneath the word Greenland - if there is a good reason for it, I'm unaware of it.]
Anyway, the second accusation that I was "into" Hunter S Thompson, which took place at a mate's house shortly after Christmas, remember, left me feeling fraudulent. Had I been trading all this time on a false image? I figured that, if the people think I should be into Hunter, then that's what I'll give them.
I read up on old articles, obituaries, watched Gonzo documentaries - and Fear And Loathing AGAIN. Hell, I even read the book. Then, eight chapters in, this incredible melting pot of coincidence came to a glorious summit when an email bounced into my work inbox…
"Does anyone want to go on an all-expenses-paid trip to Las Vegas to report on a new attraction next week?"
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