2025 has barely begun, and already it feels like the universe has taken a personal vendetta against the Thomas household.

They say bad things come in threes, so I’m praying this trifecta of misfortune is the year’s quota, all crammed into the first week. And let me assure you, the “Rule of Three” is not a comforting adage when you’re living it.

It all started innocently enough, with my wife’s car refusing to start.

Fair play, it’s not exactly a showroom model—more like a veteran of the roads with scars to prove it. A quick call to our local tow truck service and off it went, sulking to the garage. Little did I know that the tow truck and I were about to become far too well-acquainted.

Being the dutiful husband, I lent my car to Mrs. Thomas so she could continue her daily routines.

Bad idea.

No sooner had she driven a few miles than the clutch decided it was time to give up on life. Cue the same tow truck—I’m fairly sure the driver’s greeting had a tone of, “Oh, it’s you again.” Now, two cars down and no apparent guardian angel in sight, we were officially stranded.

Saved by a nephew who lent us his car we were mobile again.

The wife’s car, after a week of scavenger hunts for parts, was eventually brought back to life by our heroic local mechanic. Again it was a friend who saved us with the car parts, whoever said it’s not what you know, but who you know hit the nail on the head.

My car, however, remains in automotive purgatory, awaiting its resurrection.

But wait, there’s more.

Bad luck rarely misses an opportunity to add a dramatic twist, does it? Enter the third act (and yes, it also involves a car): the near-disaster.

Mrs. Thomas, out walking our two dogs, spotted a speeding car doing its best impression of a runaway roller coaster. Sensing imminent doom, she leapt to safety but landed on a patch of seaweed. Down she went, head-first. The scene, I imagine, was part slapstick comedy, part horror film.

The dogs were unharmed, in case you’re wondering, though their judgmental stares likely didn’t help.

The result? A trip to the ER, scans for her head and ribs, and a diagnosis of a mild concussion.

You remember those Tom and Jerry cartoons when Tom got hit on the head and a bruise would grow like volcano on his head? Well, that was what she looked like when I picked her up. She now resembles someone who picked a fight with Mike Tyson and lost badly.

On the bright side, she’s conscious, her sense of humour remains intact, and she’s discovered that ice packs are her new best friends. On the not-so-bright side, the Thomas household is one clumsy accident away from being featured in a Netflix documentary about cursed families.

Another friend, this time a neighbour, came to the rescue and brought her soup, tea and lunch for two days – along with another ice pack. As for me, I’ve spent much of this week reflecting on the absurdity of it all. Life has a way of throwing curveballs, and sometimes all you can do is laugh—preferably after you’ve checked for concussions and called the tow truck.

So, what’s the takeaway from this tale of woe?

For starters, I’ve learned to appreciate the small victories. Like the fact that our dogs, oblivious to the drama, have continued their walks with unshakable enthusiasm. Or that Mrs. Thomas, despite her bruises, has managed to retain her sharp wit and indomitable spirit.

And let’s not forget the invaluable lesson that seaweed and speed are a dangerous combination. As for the Rule of Three, I’m cautiously optimistic that our streak of bad luck has run its course. After all, statistically speaking, things should only improve from here. And if not, well, I’ve got the tow truck driver’s number on speed dial.

Here’s to 2025, a year that has already proven itself to be memorable—though not quite in the way we’d hoped. If nothing else, it’s given me a story to tell, a few laughs to share, and a renewed appreciation for life’s unpredictability. Cheers to that!

Read more Englishman in Dubrovnik…well, if you really want to

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About the author

Mark Thomas (aka Englez u Dubrovniku) is the editor of The Dubrovnik Times. He was born and educated in the UK and moved to live in Dubrovnik in 1998. He works across a whole range of media, from a daily radio show to TV and in print. Thomas is fluent in Croatian and this column is available in Croatia on the website – Dubrovnik Vjesnik