I’d invited my mother on an autumnal trip and promised her a cappuccino at the end. We drove through wonderfully colourful autumnal landscapes, and I could sense just how much she was enjoying all these sights. When we arrived in the little town we’d set out to visit, and I walked with her – aged 91 – on my arm to the café, it was, contrary to what the website had said, unfortunately closed. We walked slowly back to the car. It occurred to me to drive on to a village high up in the hills, where she’d used to enjoy going. No sooner said than done. When we got there, I parked in front of a simple hotel. We hadn’t expected it to still be open. Contrary to our expectations, we were served a delicious cappuccino and struck up a very lively conversation with the owner. As we left, my mother said, “What a lovely encounter that was. It’s a good thing the first café was closed.”
