Lady Luck

Luck is a funny thing, it's fluid yet forms solidly, it's passive yet it can appear aggressively, it trickles through rock and metal, concrete and cement, leather and paper…

The numbers in the corner of a page can seem so insignificant, they're just indicators right? A progress bar of all the pages read and a countdown of the pages yet to be absorbed, but when you take meaning from every spec of dust to fly in the light, you seek guidance from everything.

A collection of quotes sit in my breast pocket, protected by a jet black leather casing, the fabric of my coat and the belief of superstition… like some flip a coin to determine their choices, I flip pages, seek inspiration and trust the flow of my instinct, when a tricky time arises in my life, I find guidance from the greatness of Ghandi, when life seems to take a hold of me, Muhammad Ali calms me down, when a simple "what should I do today" perplexes me, Loa Tzu reminds me of the flow. In truth this has worked less than it hasn't, but when it has worked, you'd think the fluid motion of luck had whisked me away.

"What numbers would you like sir?". 7 numbers were asked of me, 7 numbers to change my life, 7 numbers to determine whether I would struggle through the lockdown, or embrace life and let it whisk me away. My lucky book of quotes had no numbers to offer me except… except maybe it did? I asked the lady at the kiosk, "who's the wisest man in history?"

"I'd say Albert Einstein… the guy figured the universe out as a man-child!", Einstein found himself on page 4

"What about you sir?" I asked the man waiting impatiently behind me, "why, Confucius of course" he almost scoffed… page 9

After receiving quotes from the great Apollo and his master Socrates, mother Theresa, Obama and, patriotically, Winston Churchill, I was left with 4, 7, 9, 16, 52, 53 and lucky number ball 1.

"Do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself, let the days own troubles be sufficient for today" Jesus guided me, page 3.

In the back of my wallet sat the ticket to my freedom, a piece of paper soon to become £20,000, then later transformed into a van, a full conversion and a new guitar, nestled gently between my Tesco club card and my gym card, disguised as 7 numbers, chosen by destiny acting through the unsuspecting. In a matter of only hours I would become free of society, able to travel the lands without fear, paying for fuel and food with the universal language of music, sharing sweet melodies and funky rhythms in every city, country and continent yet to be seen by my almost virgin eyes.

Luck had already taken her grip over me, and she had something beautiful planned this time.

It's funny how insignificant luck seems when she's laying her fingers on you, she does so ever so gently, almost passionately, but once you're aware of her grip, she can throw you around like a rider on a bull, and like the rider, you better hold on! because the pain of letting go will be worse than anything the bull can do while your on top!

Months down the line, once the bull of luck had settled, I found myself just as poor as before, yet innumerably richer! My bank account coughed dust, but my life was laughing the kind of laugh a child can't control. With a second-hand van, already converted, sat in the road, a beautiful guitar hung on my wall-mounted guitar-stand and construction equipment in my back garden, I began work on redesigning my new mobile home, gently removing the poorly constructed furniture and replacing it with blood, sweat, ebony, nails, glue and a lot of love, the place my future self would look back at with almost infinite fond memories was beginning to unfold in front of my eyes. Circular windows carved into the back doors, solar panels bolted and wired to the roof, a sofa/bed made of rich ebony wood, all the basic essentials tucked away into every nook and cranny, 'Lady Luck' became nothing other than a fantasy come true, even the snobbiest of luxury hunters could sleep comfortably under her roof.

There's something to be said about driving the streets in a homemade home, paying for food and fuel and memories with my 6 strings, an amp and the generosity of passerby's, to live a life unshackled by the imposed laws, to break free of the contracts you never signed, imposed by governments wanting "only the best", felt too pure to call a dream come true, it feels like nature, a combination of the ingenuity of the Human mind, and the natural desire to travel the lands free of burden. To call this life anything other than bliss would be sacrilege, heaven no longer held a place for me as I had already nestled into its embracing hug.

In the times of my travels I have met thousands of wounded souls, and thousands of blessed ones too, I have tickled the broken hearts of the forgotten and shared what little I had with those who had less, songs of fantastical fancies and childish pick-me-ups were shared and created everywhere!

The years of my life spent on the road, accompanied by nothing but a van, a guitar, a dog, a lady and the wisdom of countless minds were the best years of my life, but now, now I lie on my deathbed, children to my left, grandchildren to my right, my dear wife by my head and a beautiful story in my memories.

With a final breath my story came to an end, and luck had finally released her grip, until… until my youngest grandson found a relic under my bed, something buried but preserved, something titled "the minds of the past".

Oh what a beautiful thing luck is.