The universe has got my back

A car dies on a Sunday and within an hour three people have turned up: a cousin with jump leads, a neighbour who knows which garage will answer, a friend who just sits in the passenger seat until the tow arrives.

None of it was arranged. It comes out of years of ordinary contact — favours, conversations that seemed to go nowhere, the accumulated fact of having been around.

Support is almost always older than the emergency, and only some of it is anything you built. A good deal arrives from people who owe you nothing at all.

Worth knowing on a day when you feel entirely alone. Some of the help already exists. It simply has not been called yet.