Three Times A Charm

To London, and my suite at the Dorchester. I was looking forward to a dinner at The Grill and their excellent Cornish scallops, but my dinner companion was Sir Harry, and his presence was more likely to lead to indigestion rather than a fine dining experience.

My feelings were mis-placed. Sir Harry was, for him, in a state of elation. I knew this because every so often a trace of a smile flitted across his face, something completely out of character. What had exercised him was the success of what he termed "blow back". Apparently, in Afghanistan, when the Ungodly fires three mortar shells at a British army encampment, this action provides enough time to track the trajectory of the hostile round and fire a retaliatory shot to precisely the spot where the original shells were fired. Poof! No more mortar fire, and those doing the firing were sent post haste into their Islamic Paradise, 72 virgins et al. (Question for self: why 72? I will look into this and report at some future date.)

So....an enjoyable dinner. We even waxed philosophical for a time, exploring the nature of the number three, with the 'three' acting as a kind of lynch pin countering the action of the previous 'two'. In folk tales, for instance, the third sister is all-important. Think Cinderella. Shakespeare himself draws on this tradition as well in King Lear (Cordelia) and The Merchant of Venice (the third casket containing lead and Portia's portrait).

Baseball has its three strike rule, and, in a completely inappropriate adaptation of the 'rule of three', the state of California has (via an ill-thought out referendum) enacted a three strike rule in terms of prison sentencing. If it's your third court appearance, and the verdict is guilty, you are gone for ten years, even if the charge is a relatively minor one. I guess this pleases some people, but in my mind's eye all I can conjure up is  Les Miserables and Inspector Javert.

Sir Harry made the point that in many cases involving three of whatever, competition of some sort is at the fore. He went on to state, quoting Lord knows whom,* that "neither the devil nor God wants competition. That's why we humans end up in our lonely no-man's-land." I couldn't quite follow his argument, other than The Trade often hurls you into a no-mans-land, but the statement certainly prompts thought. I also noticed that this particular insight had restored Sir Harry to his usual state of gruffness, and it was time to bring this somewhat odd meeting to an end. Unless the man would spring for dessert.

He wouldn't.

*From Henning Mankell's brilliant and disturbing novel, Kennedy's Brain -- Ed.