Tuesday, this week, was one of those days.
I, like the rest of the world, woke up to the worrying news that another reactor had blown up in Japan’s Fukushima nuclear power plant. Then I got on my bicycle and cycled to yoga.
During the lesson I upended myself into a shoulder lift, and wondered how many Japanese were doing yoga or something similar when the earthquake struck. I got myself down and heard a commotion in the corner. A fellow student was lying prone, her friend holding her arm, clearly greatly concerned. Swift action was taken. An ambulance worker arrived, and the rest of us were sent to wait in the changing room. A few minutes later our teacher came to tell us the student had had a stroke, and was in the process of being taken to hospital.