Circa 1980: I took the car from home in Nottingham down to London, to attend a concert on the South Bank. Arriving late morning, I parked near the British Museum and spent some time there before doing some shopping. Returning to the car I wondered whether to leave the car there while I went to the concert, or to take it to the South bank. I decided on the South Bank. Once there I had to decide where to park: on the street or in the National Theatre car park? I headed for the NT. The car park under the theatre complex is labyrinthine, but I found a space eventually; but then I couldn't find the way out and up into the foyers. Instead I found an emergency door, pushed hard on the bar, and the door flew open, hitting a couple walking along the pavement. I apologised, and turned away to find my way into the theatre - then did a double-take at the couple, who were staring back at me. Or rather, SHE stared at me.
'Mike?'
'Jenny?'
It turned out that after a host of binary decisions, I'd assaulted an old girlfriend with a door... We'd known each other back in the mid-Sixties, several years before I'd moved back up North.
