Would you consider going to a chemist shop (drug store) to buy a car? If you wanted some deodorant, would you look for it at a car dealership? Silly questions? Don't be surprised if, in, say, three years' time, these are not silly questions but very normal ones.
When we want to exchange money in New Zealand, we go to a bank for that's where we get the best rate. However, because the banks in England are so greedy, they're the worst places to exchange your money. If we're going for a holiday to, say, Crete, we buy our euros at Marks & Spence, which is not a bank but best known as a supermarket and clothing store.
My wife, Anna, needed a new computer yesterday and, initially, we did the logical thing and went to Curries, England's largest retailer of computers. Their best deal was around £420. We went to Argos which is a general warehouse selling all manner of household goods and their best price was £399. Then we ended up on my computer, ordering hers over the internet from Tescos - originally a food supermarket - and got the same computer for £299 … plus a rebate … plus Clubcard points … plus free delivery!
So, if someone tells you they're getting their hair cut at McDonalds or are dining out at the local laundromat, it may not be their dementia kicking in but the new way of shopping … getting what you want from the most unlikely place imaginable ... a bit like my hero finding finance companies at the temple, 2,000 years ago!
Such an upside down world! Anyway, back to Arthur Bayly's world, which is rapidly turning upside down for him …
"Mmm, that's good," said Arthur with his hope supported a little.
"And that's not all!" said Amanda. "That afternoon I received a call from one of my co-workers, Brian, to see how I was. I hadn't spoken to any of them since I'd left - I felt too embarrassed to do so. Anyway, it turned out that Brian, made redundant like me, had also being going through similar stress as me, for about three months and had recently found a new job, moved to a new flat and had met this amazing new girlfriend. Life was on the up and up for him. And, of course, I wanted what he had."
"But he helped you somehow?" asked Arthur.
"Yes. He got bossy, told me he was coming around to take me out for a coffee and a chat," said Amanda, chuckling at the memory. "I was too embarrassed to be seen like I was but he insisted he'd be round in half an hour. A girl's vanity is a great motivator, you know! I was off the couch, in the shower, dressed in my least creased and dirty clothes, vaguely made up and at my front door minutes before he arrived. I sure as hell wasn't going to let him see the state of my flat!"
"And you went for a coffee?" asked Arthur, checking that he was still with the story.
"Well, the coffee was an excuse to get me out and talking," said Amanda. "And, once I started, he couldn't stop me! Anyway, he listened to my moans and groans until I exhausted myself - I think he reordered coffee some way through my diatribe."
"You eventually stopped - was he sympathetic?" asked Arthur, feeling sympathetic.
"Sympathetic? Hell no!" said Amanda. "I expected him to show some sympathy or compassion or caring but no! When I stopped raving, he said, 'so, what are you going to do about it now?'"
"Gosh, that was a little harsh," said Arthur.
"Yes, that's what I thought at the time. I just started crying," said Amanda, a tear of remembrance slipping down her cheek.
"You cried … in front of him?"
"You betcha I did. I couldn't stop it!" said Amanda. "His reaction was such a shock. So he just asked me again, so coolly, what did I want to do about it. I guess I got a little angry and shouted at him to 'shut up, I've just had enough, I just want all this over!'"
"That must have been particularly upsetting," said Arthur, feeling very sorry for her.
"Upsetting. Hell, he just started laughing," said Amanda, chuckling at the memory. "I was so shocked I stopped blubbing and just stared at him. He said he was so thrilled I'd got angry as that was the start of the uphill run."
"The uphill run?"
"Yes, the way he explained it was that depression and anger had the same cause," said Amanda, "and, apparently, they're both from unmet expectation. The difference is in the behaviour to that disappointment. In depression we go inside - inside of ourselves and cut off from the world. We can't function. Then, when we change our behaviour to anger, we go out, lash out in some way. When we get to that stage, we're ready to actually do something about our situation - we're ready to fight back. I must say, I did feel quite empowered when I had my angry outburst. The best I'd felt in six months!"
"Ah, I hadn't thought of it that way," said Arthur, quietly. "I suppose I thought anger was particularly antisocial."
"Well, yes, it is if its misdirected against people and things," said Amanda, brightening up. "However, it's just energy and, used constructively, can be positively powerful. After all, Greenpeace, Amnesty International and CORSO were all started by anger - by a sense of injustice - directed constructively."
"I suppose you're right," said Arthur, trying to take in all these new ideas. "So how did he help you?"
"Several ways, really," said Amanda. "He gave me an exercise but, before that, tried to explain something to me that I didn't get at the time. You might not get it - might not want to get it - right now, but I'd like to try and explain it to you …"
"Yes?" said Arthur, on the edge of his seat, quite oblivious to the people in the café and passing by on the street.
"OK, well, here goes," said Amanda. "Let's use the word universe instead of God or whatever. It's just a word for something I don't quite know how to explain."
"Yes?"
"So, let's pretend you have a particular life path to walk," said Amanda. "I know this sounds a bit spooky, but it feels right to me. Do you understand?"
"No, not really," said Arthur as a warm feeling rose up his spine. Though the idea was new and a little peculiar, it had a feeling of rightness about it.
"OK, as I said, let's pretend that you have a particular life path. Certain things you need to do in this life," said Amanda, obviously choosing her words carefully. "Now, we don't necessarily know what that path is or even that it exists. You with me?"
"I'm not sure. I might be if you keep going."
"So we have certain things to do or achieve and, somehow, someone, something keeps us on the path," said Amanda. "Some people are able to feel that guidance, so to speak, and they stick to the path. Most of us, however, don't feel these things and, though the universe speaks to us in a multitude of ways we don't hear or feel, we plough on blindly ignorant."
"Mmm."
"So, if we're here for a particular purpose but don't know what it is, don't even know that it exists, how the heck are we supposed to carry out our sacred mission?" asked Amanda. "How do we get connected, how do we plug into the universe to get the right job done?"
"Mmm, a conundrum."
"Absolutely! It's such an illogical system, we might think - being given a job we don't know about and don't have any tools for," said Amanda. "We're all floundering in the dark."
"Sounds very confusing ..."
"It sounds like that but it's not," said Amanda, smiling. "It's actually very logical and very simple, really."
"Oh, is it?" said Arthur, surprised.
"Yep, it sure is," she said, chirpily. "We get out of our own way and we let the universe talk."
"Pardon?" said Arthur, returning to the edge of confusion's abyss.
"Exactly!" said Amanda, laughing. "You see, we all get so busy doing what we think we ought to be doing - with our oughtism - listening to the ideas and commands of others, the constant desire to look good, that we forget to feel good. Obeying the clamour of the world that clashes with our own spiritual calling, we live lives of desperate futility, bitter and frustrated."
"You mean that others feel like that … like me?" asked Arthur, with clouds of doubt dispersing again, albeit slowly, while he felt a strange sense of connection with this stranger who described his life so accurately.
"Very few people live life happily, peacefully and in accord with their true calling," said Amanda, her enthusiasm never waning. "And yet we all hold the key but choose not to unlock the door of our self-constructed prison. Silly, really!"
"So how do we get out of this prison, then?" asked Arthur, sensing light beginning to dawn on his life.
"You've started the process already, though you don't know it, just like I didn't till Brian turned up," she said. "Now that you've said Enough! and I've turned up. Stay open and the rest will unfold itself."
"Unfold?"
"Things will start to happen," she said, "unusual, unexpected things ..."
"Like unusual redundancies, unexpected criminals?" asked Arthur, smiling grimly.
"All things will pass,"
"Somebody else told me that today!"
"You see - unusual and unexpected!" said Amanda. "Seemingly unrelated things will start to fit together. All I can say is stay open and remember that all this will definitely pass - nothing actually matters. Now, can I get your details for my report, please?"
Arthur dutifully gave her the details she needed, while anxious to know more.
"Now, I really must go," said Amanda, looking at her watch, "but here's my mobile number if you want to know where to deliver the Maserati to." She scribbled her number on a serviette and handed it to him.
"The Maserati?" asked Arthur, trying to catch up with her.
"My consulting fee! Just joking, ninny," said Amanda, patting his shoulder. "If you want to know more or just want a chat, call and invite me round. Bye!"
'My gosh, invite me round,' thought Arthur as Amanda skipped out of the café, 'these Kiwis are very forward.' That thought didn't last long as there were other, more pressing matters to consider and they wouldn't all fit into his brain - it was quite full for now, thank you very much!
He knew he would normally feel quite self-conscious, sitting in a café with an empty cup, no paper to pretend to read and nothing to do. Today he didn't. Despite all he had to think about, his mind went blank, quite empty, and he sat staring happily out the window at everything and nothing.
Blissfully unaware of the time, his mind slowly woke as a cat stretching after a nap. He looked around and was surprised the world hadn't changed during his absence. He picked himself up and wafted out the door with an inane smile on his face.
This morning I leapt out of bed to find my knees were numb. It was just a surprise, not a problem, as they de-numbed themselves within a minute - it just hadn't happened before and felt weird.
Now, numb knees sounds medically poetic and so is sure to become the next pandemic … Black Plague, Influenza, Bird Flu, Carfluted Ears, Numb Knees. It fits the pattern and I can just see drug company executives wildly leaping up, commanding their advertisers to concoct yet another million-dollar campaign; this time to scare the bejeezers out of us all and have us pouring in to buy their new magic elixir to save us from Carfluted Ears and Numb Knees (consequence horrendous and unproved, as usual), thereby giving them 1,000% return on their advertising investment. They would, of course, have to provide holidays and other goodies to the doctors who would, then, prescribe the new anti-carfluted-ears and anti-numb-knees snake oil.
I mean, just how many sneezing birds did you ever see? The bird flu was an expensive and profitable hoax, as was the meningitis scare. Though the consequences of meningitis are dire, the cure is simple - good old vitamin C.
We used to have "a cold going round". Then we had epidemics. Now they're all pandemics. What will we have next - cerbademics?
And, talking of knees, who was the great irk, the narfled wallop, who put Ks in front of the N-starting words - knuckle, knife, know and so on? Such an ink- and time-wasting exercise.
Thinking about that as carfluted ears and numb knees beset my body, I realised that we use so few Zs that there must be a huge pile of unused ones, lying about somewhere. In the spirit of drug company entrepreneurism, I hereby pronounce that all C-starting words must now start with a Z. I have zcollected all the billions of Zs and now have them for sale, for a ZChristian profit. You, as a zconsumer, need to pay me zcash in order to zcorrectly spell any word zcommencing with C. The zconsequences of not using Zs and Cs zcorrectly will be a zcerbademic of zcarfluted ears and numb knees. "Zcor blimey," I hear you zcomment, "I must zcanter off to the zchemist to stock up on Zs!" To which I zcallously, zcheekily and zcryptically say, "Zcarry on!"
Meanwhile, back at the ranch … actually, back in Croydon … Arthur Bayly's story continues …
She plonked herself on the seat, beside him, with a sigh and a smile, and he wondered how she'd got there without him noticing.
"Now, Sir," she said, looking directly into his eyes, which he found a little disconcerting, "how are you feeling? A little less shaky?"
"Ah, yes, a little steadier, thank you Constable," he said, examining his shoes.
"Amanda, please call me Amanda. Now, a question that might seem a little strange," she said in an accent he suddenly realised was definitely not an English one and was one he'd heard before, quite recently. "Why do you think you attracted this series of upsetting events to you?"
"I beg your pardon?" he asked, not quite understanding the question.
"I thought you'd find it strange. While you're pondering it, why don't we pop over to my favourite café and we'll reflect on life," she said, "and I'll take your statement."
"Well, yes, that sounds good."
"Unless you have a favourite café?" she asked.
"Well, actually, I've never been inside a café till this morning."
"What, you haven't? Your education is sadly lacking, Arthur. Let me treat you!" she said, bounding up and taking his hand to help him rise.
"Gosh, how very gallant of you," he said, bowing, "how can I refuse such an offer!"
She tripped along, her golden curls bouncing in the sunlight and he had trouble keeping up. She ordered their coffees and they sat at a bench seat looking through the window onto the street.
"Good. Now, as I said, I was made redundant three years ago," said Amanda. "I'd worked for them, the shipping firm, since I left university - ten years I was there. I was shocked, I was depressed and I lost it."
"Lost it?" asked Arthur.
"Yes, lost it," said Amanda. "The shipping business was in a downturn and they had to put people off - I was one of the lucky ones!"
"But it wasn't your fault, Amanda," said Arthur. "My situation's different - it's definitely personal and they see me as incompetent, not just surplus."
"Arthur, whether it's your fault or not, it still feels like your fault," said Amanda. "Besides, whether it's your fault or not, it doesn't matter. The fact is, you're out of a job and you feel like crap … oh, sorry, you feel horrible."
Arthur laughed. "Yes, I do feel like crap, though I dare say I've never used that word before."
"Ok, crap it is," said Amanda chuckling. "And that crap immobilized me. I suppose I became depressed, though depression's what you do, not what you are."
"What you do?" asked Arthur, confused.
"Yes, depression's what you do and I'll explain that in a minute," said Amanda, talking faster and faster as if she had so many words to get out in a limited time. "I just became unable to function. I couldn't bring myself to look for another job, to apply for an unemployment benefit, to see my friends, to tell my family … sometimes I just couldn't get myself out of bed for days, except to eat and pee. At times I wanted it all to end but I couldn't be bothered doing anything to end my life ... I couldn't even do that properly!"
"Goodness, that's … terrible," said Arthur.
"Yes, it was terrible, oppressing and debilitating." said Amanda quietly. "It was also the best thing that ever happened to me."
"The best …"
"Yep, the best thing ever," said Amanda, brightening again. "You see, Arthur, as I lay in my bed or lounged in my apartment that was getting grubbier and grubbier, I saw myself as totally useless, no point to being here and I cried and cried and yelled at God, the world and everything else. I fumed, I bellowed, I cried and I went down screaming, sobbing. Eventually I stopped fighting. I was just too exhausted. That was when I wanted it to end."
"You mean … suicide?" asked Arthur, shocked.
"Suicide, earthquake, bombing … I didn't care how it ended, I just wanted it to," said Amanda fiercely. "Of course, with no income, I'd used up all my savings and I had to do something - my parents lived nearby, in New Zealand, but I couldn't ask them for help. I couldn't tell them or anyone else about how useless I was. I was so ashamed …"
"You poor thing, Amanda."
"You might say that! I thought it - 'you poor thing, Amanda' - and, after six months of all this pity for poor Amanda, I finally gave up. I gave in. I said to whoever was listening - God, the universe, Buddha, Mother Mary, Jesus, anyone - Enough, I've had enough! I was just sick of it all and desperately wanted something to change … anything to change. I cried so hard my skin hurt ... all over. Then, pffttt, it was all over!"
"Pffttt?" asked Arthur, bemused.
"Yes, pffttt," said Amanda, giggling at the thought. "Pffttt, it was all over. Like a small ray of sunshine piercing the clouds, I woke from my bad dream and didn't want this misery any more."
"But you didn't want misery anyway!" said Arthur, feeling the abyss of confusion drawing him down again.
"No, I wouldn't have thought so at the time," said Amanda, wiping her eyes. "But the reality is that I was sad, miserable, crying and every other stupid thing because I wanted to be. It suited some silly need in me to wallow in self-pity. So I wallowed and then, for some reason when the pain was too much or I was bored with it, I'd had enough. Pffttt!"
"Oh! Oh dear, I hadn't thought of it like that," said Arthur, seeing his own sunlight through a cloudy mind.
"And when I'd had my pffttt moment, when I said "Enough!" to the Universe, my mind changed from one of pity to one of recovery - how can I get out of this?" said Amanda. "Then Brian turned up. Amazing timing, really. But, as I learned, there's no such thing as a coincidence - there's just you and me and everybody else asking for what we want and then, pffttt, getting it!"
"Oh dear," said Arthur, seeing his ray of sunshine lighting a piece of reality. "So you're saying I actually asked to be made redundant ... I actually wanted this to happen ... and the accident with that criminal ..."
"You probably won't want to hear this but yep!" said Amanda. "Maybe you've had enough of your job, for whatever reason, and you're looking for some adventure, some excitement, something exotic ..."
"Well, I do seem to be thinking of Australia ... or is it New Zealand, I'm not sure," said Arthur, feeling strangely uncomfortable, in a world that didn't quite fit any more.
"And so you bump into a Kiwi - me!"
"A Kiwi?"
"A New Zealander, Arthur, we call ourselves Kiwis," said Amanda.
"Oh I see," said Arthur, absorbing yet another new fact. "Actually, you're the second New ... Kiwi I've met today. Two lovely young ladies and both so helpful!"
"Aah, helpful," said Amanda, savouring the word and clapping her hands gleefully. "You see, the universe really does want you to realise that all the help you want is there. It's trying to let you know help's available - just ask."
"Just ask?" said Arthur. "Ask who?"
"Ask the universe, silly," said Amanda punching his arm playfully. "In your head, out loud, in prayer. It doesn't matter, just ask. You've already got two helpful Kiwis without consciously asking so think what you'll get if you do ask."
"Oh, ah, yes," said Arthur, feeling as if the swamp through which he had been trudging his whole life was, finally, starting to release his feet.
"So what did you do next?" asked Arthur, becoming very concerned, while remembering that the person telling this dreadful story was a fully functioning policewoman now.
"Well, actually Arthur, I did nothing at all - I just said Enough with a passion I'd never felt before and the universe took over," said Amanda, smiling at the memory.
"The universe?" asked Arthur, starting to feel lost.
"Universe, God, Buddha, spirit guides, Aunty Mavis … whatever you like to call whatever you believe in … whatever you feel that it is that's bigger than any of us," said Amanda, trying to slow down for a concerned-looking Arthur. "I don't know how it happened, really, but it did."
"What did, Amanda?"
"The magic, Arthur, the magic," said Amanda.
"The magic?" asked Arthur, feeling totally lost and wondering if this girl wasn't a bit insane.
"Sounds a bit insane, doesn't it?" asked Amanda. All Arthur could manage was a silly smile. "You see, Arthur, I called for help, with passion, and it turned up," said Amanda. "I yelled, in my head, in my bed, so no one could hear: Enough. Enough. I've had enough! And things started to happen."
"Things?" asked Arthur, feeling things returning to normal a little.
"Yes, things," said Amanda. The next morning I received a letter from Her Majesty's very kind Tax Department, suggesting that if I had been made redundant or if my income was under a certain level, I might be in for a refund. You have no idea how something that simple can lift a person's spirits - especially someone who has lost all faith in everything. Suddenly, without effort on my part, I was being offered help."
"Did you get the refund?" asked Arthur, feeling some hope for himself.
"Ever-practical Arthur," said Amanda, laughing. "I didn't have the energy, at the time, to do anything about it. I just felt a little better, a little supported. That was all that mattered then. And, yes, I did get a refund and I badly needed it then!"
Would you consider going to a chemist shop (drug store) to buy a car? If you wanted some deodorant, would you look for it at a car dealership? Silly questions? Don't be surprised if, in, say, three years' time, these are not silly questions but very normal ones. 
