My late mum and I loved coincidences. Her favourite was serving in an antiques shop and talking to a colleague about a mutual friend they'd not seen for years – when of course said friend then walked through the door.
I thought of my mum the other morning when I was out walking our mad cockerpoo called Roarie. While randomly pondering why my teenage daughter's dream car is a teal Fiat 500, I happened to glance at a row of cars opposite and, almost inevitably, the first one in line of sight was of course a
