Devil on my shoulder

My mother said I was born with a leprechaun on my shoulder. Kind of an odd thing to say, but it’s true. The little devil leads me and delivers me to where the action is, but he always manages to arrange an escape for me. I would imagine this is why I love to write. You see, I’ve been there, seen it and almost always came away with only scars.
Once I fell over a cliff; it was only sixty feet, but the beach was rock strewn and dangerous. My leprechaun arranged it perfectly; I landed on the only spot that had no rocks and flat on my back. The net result was a short amnesia and two black eyes. Even to this day, if there is an event, somehow or other I managed to be there just in time for the action. During the raid on Arnhem in World War II, the gliders for the forward assault flew directly over our house. Of course we all stood outside and watched; it seemed the whole sky was filled with planes towing gliders. Suddenly one released; quickly it circled loosing altitude at an alarming rate. It crashed beside some council houses on Badgeney Road less than a quarter of a mile from me. How many times have you seen a person bail out of an airplane? Hmm, well I was watching a Super Sabre over my house, and poof, the ejector fired and the pilot emerged. The plane rolled over and crashed only yards from Doddington Hospital. Another time I was walking towards the town of Chatteris and looked up, there was a Canberra bomber in trouble, with smoke coming from one engine. As I watched, right over my head. Poof – poof, and two parachutes emerged. The plane pitched forward and dived into the ground, exploding like an atomic bomb only a quarter of a mile away, and would you believe in the grounds of Doddington Hospital?
Yet again I was minding my own business on my way to work walking passed number two hangar on Wyton airfield when all the windows burst outwards with a rumble like thunder. I went to help, and found the entire inside of the hangar ablaze with aircraft still inside. I pitched in to help but dope barrels began exploding and I decided it was time to leave. There have been far too many unusual events to recount, sometimes they happen in threes. For example my wife went to do some baby-sitting, I thought I’d have myself a coffee and doughnut. On leaving the house I found an unconscious woman on my front lawn. With the help of a neighbour we called an ambulance and tended to her. The poor old girl had fainted and on coming round was a little delirious. I just arrived at the coffee shop and as I walked across the parking lot, “Whamm,” a car drove through the window, right by my favourite seat. On the way home I crossed Strathcona Street, minding my own business and “CRASH,” only two feet behind me two motor vehicles collided head on.
On my last vacation in England with my son, we saw a truck fire, two car fires and a head on collision, and I was only there for two weeks. A famous steam Locomotive named the Fenman came off the rails just once in its entire service life, guess who was standing only fifteen feet away and witnessed the entire event.
Oh well! I suppose I should go out and see if anything else has happened.