Is there a spiritual world Up There?

That’s the question that has been puzzling mankind ever since he became mankind.  Whole religions are based on the question and millions have died as a result.  The problem is that to discover the answer you have to buy a one way ticket.

There are times when I wonder, I do confess.

Take last Wednesday for example.

I had to go down to the village.  I needed to go to the library and there was a rake of stuff I had to buy.  This was a little journey that definitely required the car.  I harnessed up the dog which led to the usual frantic excitement as harness = walks and not just a ride on the back seat [actually I should rephrase that – a trip on the back seat?  I’m not into bestiality].  All coated up and with a still excited dog I approached the car and pressed my key fob.

Nothing.

Fuck!  The battery in the key fob must be dead.  I unlocked the car manually.  Once in the car I inserted the key and twisted it.

Nothing.

Fuck!  Normally it clicks when the battery is low.  On a good day it rattles off a series of clicks, lights flash on the dashboard and the starter gives a dying, gasping sound, while on a bad day I just get the clicks and a feeble flash of lights.  This time there was absolute dead silence apart from the keys clinking on the keyring and the dog panting in the back.  The car could not have been deader.  That has never happened before.   

I got out my defibrillator and hooked it up to the battery.  I did the usual shout of “CLEAR” [I have seen those hospital programmes] and turned the key.  Fuck all.  It did turn the engine through about half a cycle and gave a dying gasp sound but that was it.

Now normally I would just mark it off as a fuckit moment and just cancelled the whole trip, but there was a problem – Herself was out of fags.

I could do without my library books and I could do without the items I had intended buying but fags were a different matter.  Living with Herself and no fags is roughly equivalent to locking myself in a cage with a Polar Bear and then kicking him in the nuts.  My chance of survival would be slim to zero.  I had to get the fags.

I left the car dead in the garden and walked the dog down to the shops.

As I approached the village I could see some excitement up ahead in the distance.  A squad car from Skobieville was encroaching on our territory and were giving the local cars the full works.  They were checking speed, licence, tax, insurance, tyres, car test certificates and seat belts.  They were doing a thorough job and not a single car got by unscathed.  I wouldn’t have stood a chance if I had been driving.

So yes, I am inclined to think there is someone or something Up There who had banjaxed my car to save me from the law.

Don’t tell me it was a coincidence?