So it's time for our kitten, Simon Le Bon, to be neutered. Clare can't remember which vet he's at and rings up our local one. The conversation went something like this..."Hello, I need to book in our cat but not sure this is the right vet. The name's Le Bon, Simon Le Bon".
"Oh yes, that's right - but we're not supposed to tell people he goes here".
"What?"
"What's the cat's name?"
"Simon Le Bon."
"No, the cat's name."
"Simon. Le. Bon."
This exchange, according to Clare, proceeded for quite a while.
"OH - the CAT is called Simon Le Bon?"
And suddenly, Clare realised the glorious truth. Our little Simon Le Bon goes to the very same vet that the real Mr Le Bon (or presumably his feline companion) goes to. The odds of this, by my unscientific calculations, are about 2 million to 1. This news caused considerable excitement in our house. "I'm sure this means something!" said Veronica, "I'm just not sure what.... "
We concluded that Simon Le Bon is some kind of omen for us, but can't quite yet decipher the complex puzzle fate is weaving for us and a small cat. But considering that Spandau Ballet has recently reformed, who knows what the future holds??
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