The worst thing about surprises, is that they always occur when you least expect it. But perhaps that is the point...
I am, for the most part, a great advocate of surprises. To me, the word has always connoted exuberant bursts of positivity, rather than a foreboding mess of what's and if's. When I think of surprises, I think of presents - ever the materialist - streamers, bulky furniture and dimly lit rooms overflowing with guests waiting to pounce on the unwary birthday girl. I think of gift boxes with air-holes punched in the top, of visits from old friends...of Colin Firth on my doorstep...
Unfortunately, this is reality - or so I am told - thus statistically, not all surprises are bound to be pleasant. This confronting revelation in itself was a most unsettling surprise.
The inescapable point here is that sooner or later, some morbid bastard is going to rain on your parade. We humans are an altogether daft bunch...capable of creating wreck and ruin, but not of anticipating it. A horrible surprise is inevitable.
It makes no difference. The thing that I both admire and despise about surprises, quite at the same time, is their unpredictable predictability. But I hardly expect you to understand this...
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