She was a little Frank . . .

I caught a taxi post my Fertility Centre hands-on experience.

It was driven by a lovely old Samoan woman. Who kept eyeing me in her rear-view mirror.

After a short while she asked me; "D'you balee in God?" (She had a slight Samoan-English accent - although what I just wrote sounds a little Asian).

Thinking of my current plight and the fact there were healthy criminals running around I wasn't really sure how to answer.

"When I was a little boy I used to go to Sunday school" I said.

"You should go to church every week. Jesus love you. He love us all" she replied.

I responded with nothing.

"You got kids?"

"Yes, three."

"Aaaaaah, man of responsibility."

Now I was feeling very weird. Like my conscience was talking to me via this woman. It was kinda like Frank the Dog in MIB. Freaky deaky stuff.

And still she kept looking at me.

"You got Bible in house?"

"Um, only a picture one."

"You should read your children a story from the Bible every night."

Just then she started drifting across the lane and for the first time in days my future was threatened by something other than cancer.

I remained quiet.

She slowly got tired of the non-responsive passenger in her back seat.

I spent the rest of the ride thinking about what she'd said.

This was the very first time a cab driver had EVER had such a conversation with me. And I've been in hundreds of cabs.

Why now?

A sign?

Hmmm.

Pee