A group of tourists was standing in the way listening to the tour guide and simultaneously glancing up at a rather typical row house. I looked up as I stepped around the group and read on a plaque on the building that “Charles Lamb Essayist Lived Here”. That building is en route from my home to the gym and I have walked that road many many times and only found out today, after almost five years, that the famed writer once lived not so far from me. I’d like to think that I’ll keep my eyes peeled from now on because London is full of such delightful surprises but knowing myself, human and all, I am far more likely to remain embalmed in me own thoughts and worries than being awed and amazed by life’s little surprises. Perhaps, therefore, one should be less human.