I took a long cut on my way to the vista this afternoon. I normally cross the hill on foot, and turn to head down to do my errands. It's a long walk I dread.

This time I decided to take the bridge, earphones plugged in and my shopping basket swinging. Most of the pedestrian paths were blocked for an event, so I had to take one detour after another, until I ended up in a trailer jungle of twenty trucks or so, all emblazoned with the WWE logo.

Apparently, there was a pro wrestling event in town that I hadn't even heard about, and somehow I had walked casually right into the midst of it. Fifteen years ago I was one of the young enthusiastic fans lining up excitedly outside the stadium, waiting to get my first glimpse of the arena.

The road from there twisted once, then twice, until I ended up by the river, separated from the banks by the thick trees. A fire hydrant had exploded in the distance, flooding the sloping road in strips of splashing light. It was all so removed from everything else that it was hard to believe the blocks and clusters of restaurants and busier life were just a couple of hundred yards away.

There should be a lesson or a reflection here, somewhere. I was just glad for the unexpected peace.