As if one needs further evidence that the universe moves in mysterious ways. I'm (habitually) five minutes late for a 7am meeting. Skipping down the pavement smoothing hair tucking shirt crunching over broken bottle checking for a pen. Oh this is a school route I think. That would be a nasty fall. So I halt and kick all the glass to the side. In the process catapulting my favourite mug out of my satchel into smithereens. Adding some lovely milk white Habitat porcelain shards to the meleé.
He was the last of a brood too, and didn't look anything like Toby here. In fact I believe the range was called Nil. Not quite a mug but never a tea-cup he was just perfect. I've given pairs of Nil to some of my favourite people and they've never not exclaimed in delight at the clever proportions. I might phone around and see if I can have one back. Indian giver.