Those of you who have had the pleasure of touring the countryside in my car with me at the wheel will know that I am rather irreverent when in danger of getting lost because of the apparent lack of appropriate signposts to my destination.
As a creature of habit to some extent at least, this is when I most often exclaim in my best Lenny Henry impersonation, “Lord, Lord, give me a sign!” Invariably, in answer to my supplication the appropriate signpost appears, as if miraculously, just a few hundred metres ahead, and my passengers and I sigh in collective relief that we are indeed on the right track after all.
So it was not for nothing very early this morning that I appreciated the hazard sign landing so elegantly in the branches of the olive tree after my car mowed over two posts, each bearing a sign like this one.
I expect that an angel placed the sign thus – after ensuring that I survived the accident intact. When I saw it, I got the feeling I get when I walk into my local coffee shop, and the proprietor knows exactly what I am going to order: this was a sign especially for me.
How fortunate for me this time that I got a wake-up call and a sign all rolled into one.
©2017 Allison Wright
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