Starting the long drive that morning, I had no idea that it was the Yellow Brick Road I would be following stretching out all the way from Bedford to Cornwall like a magic lifeline reeling me in down a fast lane of motorways. And no idea of the characters I was going to meet along the way- three of them having served in the Army, none of them knowing the other, and I was suddenly and unexpectedly to meet them all on the same day shortly prior to making one of the most significant spontaneous decisions of my life. An Officer, a Gentleman, a Locksmith and a Wizard. Turn off the sat nav, shed-squash the witch, get out the sparkly shoes, I was on the Yellow Brick Road!
The Officer. I pulled into what must have been almost the last Services on the M4 west and headed for the toilets, made it past Burger King but succumbed to a goody bag of promotional make-up waved under my nose by a salesman that made me smile in the foyer. Normally I would have walked straight past but just stopping there for two minutes jolted me into a sliding doors moment and someone behind me suddenly shouted 'Sarah!'. There were soldiers in uniform swarming ahead of me, probably having poured out of a hangover-steamed minibus with a standard issue lunch tray of untouched still-frozen Ginster sausage rolls in brown paper bags under one of the back seats, in a desperate bid for fast-food freedom. I didn't recognise any of them; they all seemed so young. Still made me smile nostalgically though. 'Sarah!'. I turned, not really thinking that the shout was for me. And there was the legend who had been my right hand man and troop Staff Sergeant in Iraq during the war in 2003 and who I hadn't seen for probably seven years. I couldn't believe it. He was on his way to Wales adventure training; I was on my way to Cornwall to view a puppy. Sliding Doors. It was a sign- I was on the right road with this puppy adventure.
The Gentleman. The 'gentleman' swung in behind me in a carpark, tapped on my window, and informed me that once he'd seen my driving licence he'd need me to put on the rubber gloves. Blue ones. The gloves worried me less than the driving licence- I couldn't remember quite how bad the photo on it was...
I'd made it to Cornwall and this was obviously what went on down there, hidden behind the innocent veneer of Eden Projects, Pasties and Polzeath Posh (ha!).
What was actually going on was that I was having a quick ID check to make sure I was who I said I was (who was that?)before being taken to see the litter of rather special Rhodesian Ridgeback pups which I would need rubber gloves to handle so that I didn't infect them with any Bedford bugs. What did you think I was talking about?
And then the next golden brick flashed in the sun- blue rubber gloves guy was ex-military too, had done Gulf War 1 and been out for a while, but nevertheless, what were the chances. What was going on today? Was this puppy really meant to be!
I was there to view the tiny pup with the black collar and the 'pick me' eyes. Having a laugh with another ex-military guy while both wearing blue rubber gloves was unexpected. He was talking to me about hip dysplasia and dermoid sinus. Had I done any research? What? No. I had no idea what he was talking about, I just knew that it was a Rhodesian Ridgeback or nothing at all. Shame on me. Something about his smile and his piss-taking was distracting me. I paid the deposit without thinking, signed the contract in a fluster and wrote my post code wrong. Shit. Damn those rubber gloves.
The Locksmith. I'd excitedly posted on Facebook that morning that I was heading to Cornwall. The phone rang. Unbelieveable. It was another ex-military legend who had been my right hand man in Iraq 2006. He lived in Cornwall now and was working as a locksmith. Not just any locksmith- this was Sir Fix -A -Lock himself with his van called Guinevere and his little dog Camelot (Lottie) on the front seat. He was only minutes away from where I was stood in a sea of puppies and latex- did I fancy a brew? Stonehenge had nothing on my yellow bricks today. Wow.
The Wizard. I fell in love with the pup with the little black collar and the white star on his chest pretty much instantly. I couldn't stop looking at him. I wanted him to feel the same way about me ( I think he does now - especially around feed time). I cuddled him against me as he nibbled my collar, my jewellery, my hair. I didn't want to let him go. I didn't want to leave either. An overwhelming sensation of doing something which might seem a little mad but which was actually, completely, one hundred percent spot on. Something just for me. He didn't know it, but he was going to change my life for the better and make me smile everyday. A dusting of Cornish magic, a majestic hunter, a helicopter that flew me safe in Iraq every day. Merlin. My little wizard. In my blue rubber gloves, at the end of the Yellow Brick Road.
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