The magic of chance...and a smile...

...on a wet and windy night

An unexpected viewing

It had been a random week from the start, what with the fire-eating belly dancer in the restaurant where we had popped for a quiet meal - but that’s a different story. On this particular wet and windy afternoon in early November, four years ago, we had a late notice house viewing. We had decided to put our house on the market a couple of months prior, having weighed up the stress of maintaining our home and current crazy workloads, against selling up, regaining health and just easing the pressure. We finally decided to ease the pressure (and have never looked back). 

As I look out of the window today at the relative calm before Storm Ciaran, it feels strangely reminiscent. Whilst the view is changed, the feeling is the same - darkness threatening at 3pm even though it’s technically still light, leaves whipped around by the wind, rain teasing at the fringes before unleashing in full sideways fury.

Time to hunker down, put the fire on and hibernate.

Photo by Oliver Hihn on Unsplash

Anyone who’s ever tried to sell a house in the UK will know that you never say no to a viewing request, and that the agents prefer you not to be home. So, when we got the call during that exciting flurry of initial viewings, we obviously agreed to evacuate (after the frenetic tidy a la ‘shove everything in a cupboard’). Our daughters were down the road with their nan (my mum), so we grabbed our arthritic spaniel and headed out into the woods to leave our ‘show’ home available for perusal.

An unexpected pub stop

It was already dark when we set off, and not a time of day we would even normally walk the dog, but our lovely Fizz was happy as the proverbial in the puddles and rain - living her best swamp dog life. After half an hour of getting soaked we wondered whether we could turn back, or whether the viewers might need more time, so we decided to go for a cheeky pint.

On that particular walk there is a lovely country pub a bit further down the way, but it was pretty dark and bleak, so we decided to cut through onto the main road and visit the big chain pub instead. It wasn’t a pub we ever really visited back then, and certainly not at that time of day. We didn’t even know if dogs were allowed in - especially muddy, wet Springers, but sure enough, they were. We were directed to a dog friendly table, and sat down with our drinks, bribing Fizz to portray a semblance of calm behaviour with copious treats, fantasising about selling our house. I had a warming glass of red, himself a pint. ‘What if these are the ones that put in an offer?!’, ‘what if we sell??!!, ‘OMG I can give up work, we can change our entire lifestyle’... ‘Can you imagine?!’, ‘oh please let it happen’. 

After one drink we got up to go, but giddy with the possibility of hope, we caught a glint in each other’s eye and decided to have just one more. Mum rang to tell us she was going to get us all some food. Somehow, one of our daughters had persuaded her that we should all have KFC bucket for dinner (hilarious), so as we got our second drink, said daughter and Nan headed out to get a pile of chicken, arranging to collect us from the pub on the way back home. The viewing would definitely be done by then, and the fire might even still be on the go. Perfect.

[The hilarity/absurdity of my (then) 78-year-old healthy-eating Irish mum getting a KFC chicken bucket for the first time in her life is not to be underestimated in itself].

Photo by Lucas Andrade on Unsplash

An unexpected conversation

As we started to gather our things together, the anticipatory scent of the Colonel’s Secret Recipe gathering in our nostrils, a couple of well-dressed ladies came in, smiled, and sat on the table next to us. I was worried that our lovely Fizz, who had had a dip in the pond and was fifty shades of brown and green, would get them dirty - so I made excuses for her general filth (not ours, mind) and got up to leave.

The two of them were immediately lovely, telling us not to worry about a bit of muck, and making a good old fuss of her. They didn’t care about their clothes and her mud, they exuded kindness and warmth. We had a lovely little chat before heading out, and as I reached the door to leave, something barely discernible made me stop, and turn back.

There was a hint of something in the Irish lilt of their voices. It just felt so familiar to me. I paused and smiled at them, and asked where they were from. ‘County Mayo’ said one lady. ‘Ah, never mind’, I replied, turning back to the door,‘it’s just that my family are from Offaly and I thought your accent sounded very familiar’. ‘Well we are from Offaly!’, they exclaimed, ‘we just live in Mayo now!’.

I knew it!! (quietly proud of my second generation recognition of the accent of my family’s home county).

Photo by Click and Learn Photography on Unsplash

I stepped away from the pub door and returned to the table as we began blethering away excitedly, whilst one of the ladies asked me: ‘What’s your family name?’. I answered ‘McDonald’, and she nearly hit the floor. ‘Not the McDonalds from Church Street??’. ‘Yes!’ I exclaimed, ‘my granny (my dad’s mum) ran the shop there’.

She excitedly called someone over from the bar: ‘Liam, Liam! you’re not going to believe it, this is Martin McDonald’s daughter!’. I was utterly confused at this point, but just hearing my beloved dad’s name brought me such joy, him having suddenly passed away five years earlier. A lovely softly spoken gentleman approached, and sure enough he knew my dad. They were in class together. Liam told me how he remembered my dad well, what a gentle man he was, and a great footballer. I could have cried. Here was a piece of my history, and a connection to my dad that I’d never known.

I got to read a part of my own story from someone else’s book of memories, in a random pub in Dorking on that November afternoon.

Photo by Rach Teo on Unsplash

The lady’s name was Nuala, and Liam was her older brother. She was with a friend, and also their younger brother Brendan. They were all just delightful. We started chatting animatedly about people in common, like Dad’s siblings (Dad was the eldest of 8 brothers, Liam was the eldest in his family). I explained that Dad was no longer alive, and mentioned some of my uncles - ‘yes we know Joe, yes, Paddy and Tom...’. My husband looked on smiling, knowing how much this connection would mean to me. He then chipped in and said - ‘well Emma’s mum is about to arrive here to pick us up - do you know her too?’. (My parents both came from the same area).

An unexpected friend

They didn’t recognise the name, Brigid McDonald, and then I realised I was using her married name, which they would not have known her by back in school. Mum probably hadn’t even met my dad when these brothers were in class with him so there was no association at that point. When I mentioned Mum’s maiden name ‘Wren’, however, Nuala literally had to sit down to steady herself: ‘Oh my God – Bridgie Wren? You must be joking!!!! She was my best friend at school, I haven’t seen her for 60 years’.

She turned to her brothers - ‘Emma’s mum is Brigid!! My best friend and Charlie Wren’s sister!!’. [It turns out my Uncle Charlie was a national (Gaelic) footballer - quite the star - and they all knew him too]. It was just mind boggling.

I had heard Mum talk about her dear friend Nuala many, many times, and now I was here with her. I told Nuala that Mum was actually about to arrive at the pub to pick us up (with a KFC chicken bucket no less). She could not believe it – ‘Hwhat? She’s here? In this town? Now??!’.

‘Yep, she sure is’.

I rang Mum when she was on her way, and told her to park up, ditch the chicken, and come straight into the pub. It didn’t matter what she was wearing, whether she was in her pyjamas and slippers, she had to come in. I was in the pub with Nuala - her best friend from all those years ago.

Mum presumed I was mistaken, I mean it didn’t make any sense - it wasn’t possible...but within minutes, mum was inside the pub, and it was one of the most glorious life moments I’ve ever experienced.

Two friends, unexpectedly reunited after almost sixty years.

Cilla Black eat your heart out.

An unexpected evening

My husband, sensing the gentle magnitude of the moment, took Fizz and our daughter back home (gleefully ensuring the chicken bucket didn’t go to waste), leaving us to our moment. We stayed all night, and a lifetime bond was reforged. Drinks were bought, stories were shared, and life and love remembered in one of the most extraordinary evenings of my life.

We went back to Mum’s house to look at old photos - Mum & Nuala together, Mum and Brendan on a date in the days before Dad was even in her consciousness (and would have been at school with older brother Liam!). Two best friends, together again.

As for the house sale? Well that didn’t pan out for another year, but if they hadn’t requested the viewing at that time on that day, none of this would ever had happened.

What are the chances?

An unexpected connection

It’s not just the extraordinary coincidence of the viewing timing, it’s the chance of us taking the dog with us out of the house, walking until that point, deciding to have a drink, going to that pub, sitting at that exact table. The chance of them arriving at the same time, sitting at the adjacent table, smiling at us, fussing over Fizz. The chance of me overhearing their voice, of turning back, smiling at them and of asking the question. So many moments where it might not have happened.

There are theories that our energies attract, and I think perhaps this happened to us. Someone I have never met, and I, were somehow drawn to each other through a series of tiny but remarkable circumstances. Like the holes of a Swiss cheese all perfectly lining up, but with a glorious outcome instead of a disaster.

Photo by C R on Unsplash

What strikes me most of all, is not the chance of Nuala (who still lives in Ireland) being in a pub in my local town at the same time I’m there, but more the power of connection. A complete stranger and I exchanged kind words when we connected over a smile and a muddy dog. It could have ended there, but something made me want to chat more. The kindness in her eyes, along with my natural gravitational pull to all things Irish (!), connecting with another person in what it means to be human.

It all began with a smile.

We could so easily have just walked past each other and we would never have known.

Smile at a stranger today – you never know what might happen. 

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Have you ever experience a serendipitous moment like this?

I’d love to hear about it.

Love & lemons 🍋

Em xx