It’s been a good week for social interaction. I met with a friend for a long overdue catch up, a three hour two-way exchange of news and views. We’ve known each other for the best part of 28 years, although we haven’t been constantly in touch over that time. As with all good friendships it’s not hard to pick up the threads, even after a long spell with little or no communication. We talked about politics, climate change, books, touched on our respective backstories and recalled moments and people that coloured our shared past.

When you’re easy in the company of another it’s not difficult to share a confidence or two and I for one came away feeling a good deal lighter for doing so. One particularly valuable takeaway arose from us discussing how a person gradually rediscovers him or herself following a significant life event, in my case, losing Mags. It was good to hear myself say the words, actually speak about how confusing, even shocking, it feels to experience a returning to full identity. For almost four years the landscape has been largely unfamiliar and sometimes overwhelming for me, and then gradually this person emerges from the huge, seemingly unnavigable space. It takes time to get acquainted or, should I say reacquainted, because after a time - and it must be different for everyone who finds themselves in the same rudderless boat - you discover this mysterious individual is you.

In the latter part of the week I made a relatively short car journey to collect some CDs. What should have been a straightforward exercise turned into a mini nightmare. First the satnav on my phone abandoned me on an unfamiliar stretch of road. I wound up parked outside a pub, desperately trying to get my phone to reconnect and return to the route. In the end I confessed to some random guy that I was lost. He kindly gave clear directions to my destination. At least, his directions took me to the very heart of the town centre close to my destination. You know when you’re travelling along a street that’s completely unknown to you and suddenly your head is filled with ringing alarm bells? Well, I was on that street. My satnav barked at me to go right when I was least expecting it. I obeyed without question, only to see the No Entry sign flash by as I made the turn. Fortunately my destination was just 25 yards away. Unfortunately I encountered a VW Golf coming towards me, the right way on the one way street. Although I wound down my window to apologise and weakly excuse myself for being a stranger in these parts, the Golf driver was hellbent on finishing his dismissive arm waving routine before he finally sped off leaving a “whatever” hanging in the breeze. The journey home was far less eventful and, by way of consolation, I discovered in my CD haul, a reissue of Valerie Carter’s 1977 album, ‘A Stone’s Throw Away’. It’s a ‘keeper’.

On Saturday a guy turned up to collect a large portion of my music overspill. We started talking on the doorstep and two hours later he left with around 130 CDs. There was a lot of common ground beyond our tastes in music. We had both been lorry drivers, we had both been compensated following serious industrial injuries - he almost lost his arm, I was extremely fortunate not to have lost my leg. We both had complicated upbringings, and we are both born optimists. He talked about moving to Spain and waxed lyrical about his passion, Ham Radio. He also told me how he’d once driven to London to buy a secondhand CD player and amplifier. As he was leaving the premises with his HiFi kit the seller threw in his entire CD collection for free. Three shelving units more than six feet tall packed with music gems.

I have no idea what this guy’s name was, and no idea where he lived, only where he intended to live, Spain. But I’m okay with that. Sometimes the most interesting exchanges are had with complete strangers. Did I tell you about the woman, not known to me, who complimented me on my aftershave - even though I have a full beard - when I was out with my family recently? No? Maybe another time then.

Here’s Valerie Carter, also new to me. Yet she was only a stone’s throw away.