Beautiful things emerge from the most unlikely of places.

Some of the best food in any city comes out of a room the size of a garage behind a petrol station, four plastic tables, no sign on the door. Nobody would have chosen to put it there. It exists because one family had a recipe and cheap rent, and the queue formed anyway, in the rain, along a road nobody walks down for pleasure.

Good conditions turn out to be less necessary than they look and much worse at predicting anything. A friendship that started in a broken-down coach. A life that turned on the wrong job. None of it checked whether the setting was appropriate first, which is the genuinely useful thing about it.