"I once believed in love
I thought it was all true
But I was so naive
I once believed in you."

Jean Claude phoned again this morning. Coincidentally I was in the kitchen squeezing a French style citron presse at the time. Coincidences are curious like that, as I'd said in an early Meditation - two seemingly unrelated events with a common theme, the occurrence of which makes you wonder if there's a Plan, a Great Unknown Plan, or GUP for those of an abbreviating nature. That I should have chosen to make myself such a French style drink at the very moment when a French man was pressing my numbers on his telephone keypad surely speaks volumes about GUPs. Indeed, should any more proof be required, I need only tell you that Jean Claude and I were not only brought together by an extraordinary series of events of potentially life-threatening proportions, we also discovered by chance that we share a deep interest in Rene Descartes and his celebrated 'Cogito'.

But alas, there was a further dimension to this morning's set of coincidences - Nana answered the telephone before I got to it. I could hear her voice booming down the receiver before I'd even left the kitchen. "You had your chance, Sacha," she was saying, "and you blew it." Of course Nana had a point. And on balance her intervention in our GUP - Jean Claude's and mine - was probably for the best. I expect he's shrugging his broad shoulders by now as he mutters "C'est la vie," through barely moving lips.