I had a friend once called Kevin. Since we never fell out I suppose technically we're still friends but it doesn't feel like it; I've not seem him for years. I don't believe in luck but if anyone wanted to state the case for luck then I wouldn't be surprised if they cited Kevin as an example. Of bad luck, I mean. I don't think I've known anyone for whom so many things went wrong. He went through cars and wives and jobs and friends like I go through paper hankies and yet he's the least bitter or disillusioned person I think I've ever met. We were in this pub once downing our sorrows after his most recent disaster and I said to him (this was while our friendship was still active), "Kevin, do you know what?" and he said, "What?" I said, "Kevin, I seriously think you're the unluckiest bloke I have ever met. No sooner do you get on your feet than something or someone comes along and knocks you down." He had, you will not be too surprised to learn, been involved in a number of… let's just call them vehicular contretemps but I was being metaphorical at the time or at least trying to be. "You think so?" he said, and took a long thoughtful pull on his pint. After a suitable pause I said, "Yeah. I do. It's positively…" and here I got stuck and it's not like me not to have an adjective or two to hand for moments like that. "Positively what?" he asked and then it struck me: "Sisyphean," I said. "It's positively Sisyphean." Of course I had to explain who Sisyphus was since Kevin had missed more than his fair share of schooling growing up due to a whatever the collective noun for childhood illnesses is. Now there I truly was stumped. Plague? Epidemic? Kevin nodded when I said that. It seemed to make sense to him. "But do you know what," I finally interjected into the silence, "at least you've always stayed chipper." With that he stopped nodding and said, "You're right, Jim. Different rocks and different hills I guess. Another pint?"