The other week I had a very nice meal and some very very
nice wine with some very very very nice friends at my new favourite very nice
place 10 William St Paddington. 10 William St is a Wine Bar. And it is strictly a Wine
Bar. I know it is strictly a Wine Bar because at the end of my meal and two
glasses of the nice rose I was drinking (
I forget the name. My friend Katie was drinking it when I arrived. I really should pay more attention to these things) I asked the waiter
what tea they had ( it was a school night
and I was trying to be sensible). The waiter looked at me a little
aghast – ‘ We are a wine bar – we don’t
have tea’. He wasn’t being rude, he was just genuinely confused at how I could
possibly be around such a great selection of wines and possibly be considering
a pot of tea.
He had a point. Indeed, I felt he made such a good point
that I dismissed my ‘it’s a school night sensibleness’ and promptly ordered
another glass of whatever it was Katie was drinking.After the consumption of which I was tipsy enough to tell my
friends what had happened to me before I arrived;
I had had some time
to kill between finishing work and meeting friends so I killed it in a cafe. I flicked through the
paper, and when I was done with that, I aimlessly scrolled through Facebook and
clinked on a link a friend of mine had posted. It was an article about this woman
who despite great adversity had achieved some phenomenal stuff – opening an
orphanage in Indonesia and just generally being a great person.
I was tired that afternoon, and possibly stewing in a bit of
self-pity, so it was the kind of story that picked me up and put my ‘first
world’ worries into perspective. And don’t we all need a bit of that some
times.At the end of the article there was a quote from the woman (
whose name I forget – I wonder if I can pass of my inability to pay attention
to names as a literary motif?) that was something like – 'You’ve only truly
lived when you have involved yourself with something bigger than
yourself’. And I really liked that idea.
Infact, I liked it so much that I decided to write it down. Except I
realised that I didn’t have a pen with me. Or paper. So I decided to text
myself the quote. ( Don’t ask me why I didn’t use the notes function on my iphone, as I said, I
was tired and I usually forget that it exists even on mental sharp afternoons).
So I did. I text the quote to myself.
Except I kind of hit 8 when I should have hit a 7. So I
actually sent the text to somebody else.
Ops.
Ediot.
I felt a bit stupid and sheepishly put the phone
back in my bag.
By this time, it was time to meet my friends for dinner. I
didn’t mention my accidental text message. I still didn’t tell them half an
hour later when I had a text message in response saying – ‘who are you’.
And I still didn't mention it a half an hour later when they
text again – ‘who are you’.
But after that third glass of wine that the waiter pretty
much insisted that I drank, I told them about my afternoon silliness. And we all had a
giggle.There was a suggestion that I should respond.There was a suggestion I could start just randomly texting this person at monthly intervals
with other snippets of wisdom.
I didn’t. I didn’t do anything.
But I thought this…
It might be that for the person who received it, it was
exactly what they needed to hear at the paritcualr point in their life. Maybe
my random text message spurred them on to take on a new challenge, leave a
terrible relationship, or go open their own orphanage. Maybe, for them, it was
like the universe had sent them a message. Maybe in my tired Tuesday afternoon
state I channelled a message from a higher source. Maybe in some small way my
text message has sent them on the path to greatness.
Maybe.
On the other hand, it may have totally freaked them out and
they have contacted their phone company to block sender on me.
Maybe.
