I remember exactly when it happened; I was driving home from work. I had stopped at a red light and was tapping the steering wheel along to the music; Waterloo by ABBA, I think.
A mother and child crossed the road. The mother was wearing a pink pastel skirt and top, with a white blouse. The child, a girl, was wearing a pretty red dress. The mother was holding the little girl’s hand as they crossed.
Just as the music reached the finishing chorus, the little girl glanced over at me.
It was at that moment my moustache started speaking.