I've just shimmied out, glass in hand, to enjoy the setting sun, and bumped (literally) into Bob as he came in. As he remarked, what were the chances of that?
It reminds me of a story doing the rounds in Skye a while back, about the Isle of Raasey. There was only one road on the island, which is about 12 miles long. And at this time there were only two cars. Inevitably, in time, the two of them had a head on crash.
People said it only happened because one of them was on the correct side of the road.