In a surprising turn of non-events that regular readers may find difficult to believe, not much of anything worth telling you about happened to one man living in the Cambodian second-city of Battambang yesterday.
Bucking trends as if they were going out of fashion, Moys Kenwood, 55, experienced a day, in many respects, unlike any other, with none of the usual round of disasters and catastrophes that seem to be visited upon him.
There were, for example, no near-fatal motorcycle accidents, no rainstorms of biblical proportions, no instances of washing being blown from lines, no tractor wheels became detached from their tractors, and not once was his daughter's bicycle stolen from outside the house.
His toe was not stubbed, and he was not, repeat, NOT, nearly struck by lightning as he ate his tea al fresco. There were no problems with lorries shedding their shedloads of sheds, no further burnt Corn Flakes were discovered in newly-opened packs, and, fortunately, no more attacks on his person were orchestrated by ducklings.
He was not woken up by any of his own farts, and did not need to try to stifle any between his buttock cheeks whilst teaching in the classroom. Nor did he fall after chasing cows that had encroached onto his garden to eat his wife's flowers. The reason? No cows bothered to encroach.
Moreover, not a single, solitary woman with a face full of zits looked through his window after a power cut, and, against all odds, he has a perfectly satisfactory amount of tea bags waiting to be brewed, thank you very much.
Indeed, as I said, it was very much an unremarkable day.
Of course, there's always tomorrow.
