At a party on Saturday night, in a huddle with Marita, talking to Trish and a bloke walked up and spoke to Trish. He looked familiar. He looked like the bloke we met at Beth’s party a few weeks ago. But it couldn’t be, could it? Nah. This guy had a beard. Did the other guy have a beard? Mind you it did look awfully like him.
Marita turned to me. “Hey isn’t that the guy we met at Beth’s party?” With totally unwarranted certainty in my voice, I replied no, it can’t be. Because given the two parties involved completely separate circles of friends, the odds would be astronomical. Impossible. No way.
But it was him. Same guy. Matt. (I’d forgotten his name, despite having previously met him at least twice, and him helping Beth write an article for me. I’m terrible with names.) We ended up having a chat and working out how he knew us and how he knew the others at the party. He said he almost invited Beth along. That would have been way too weird.
Our conclusion was that he spends an awful lot of time at parties. Good for him.
It’s a small, small world.
PS. 6 out of 8 in the footy tipping. I’m now leading the work competition by a point, and equal first with Trish in Tony’s comp. If this keeps up, we may have to chop the commemorative urn up into bits.