It’s the small things in life isn’t it? Indeed, as architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe once observed: ‘God is in the detail’.

And he was right too – for life, or rather a good life, is all about those minor, almost inconsequential events and circumstances that, on their own, can trigger the difference between, say, a great day or one that’s only so-so.

Fortunately for me, last week marked the start of a lucky streak (albeit a single, solitary streak).

Now maybe it’s because, as old wives used to say, cleanliness is next to Godliness (as you know, I’ve never made any secret of the money I spend on toiletries). Or maybe it’s because I help old ladies cross the road. Or maybe it’s just because it was ‘my turn’; I don’t know.

All I can say for certain is that I’m every bit as grateful as had I won the Lottery (the Friday Euro draw of course).

And typically this good fortune kicked in without fanfare or pomp – just a helpful suggestion from a friend.

“Why don’t you buy a ticket called a Day Rider from Stagecoach for £3.70?” she asked. “You do ride the bus every day after all.”

Good point too. I’ve been environmentally friendly for years and never acknowledged it.

Plus, I’d always bought single journeys because I never knew when or how I’d be returning.

“But for £3.70 you can travel all day, anywhere in the city,” she argued back.

With the kind of typical, devil-may-care bravura that has been the hallmark of my life, I bought just such a ticket the very next day.

And you know what? It’s changed everything. And no, I’m not being ironic or sarcastic but rather, as I outlined earlier, it is precisely because this mundane detail is so seemingly trivial that it’s knock-on effect has proved, conversely, so dramatic.

Suddenly, overnight, I’ve been relieved of having to look for the correct change every couple of hours.

And if that weren’t enough, hell, even the drivers themselves don’t seem to mind accepting a fiver as way of payment.

I mean, eliminating the need to carry, in cash, the gross national product of a small country every day has even stretched so far as to affect my health.

Once weighed down by 10p, 20p, 50p and £1 coins, I walked with a stoop, my far horizon a pavement.

Today, like a stag in the Highlands, I can walk with my head held high, my spirit free to soar.

But perhaps the greatest consequence of this single, petty act has been the fact that I am now alert and sensitive to money saving offers in every area of my life.

For like the boy in Sixth Sense who sees dead people, I now only see bargains.

Thank you Stagecoach.