I met my husband on a bus. We've been together for 21 years.

• At 30, I'd given up on love and planned to move abroad.
• Living in London, I tried not to talk to anyone on public transport.
• I asked a stranger for the time, and minutes later, he was asking for my phone number.

The day my life changed, I was working in public relations for an international wildlife charity. I'd lived in London since graduating from university, and taking the was part of my daily routine. bus home. It was a busy line, so I was usually squished against the luggage rack behind the driver. To pass the time, I'd listen to music and stare out the window, fantasizing about the future.

I was doing that on a warm June evening when Will got on and squeezed in between me and the other commuters.

I liked him instantly

It was one thing for our eyes to meet on a crowded bus; admitting that he was tall, dark, and handsome is as clichéd as it gets. But I liked him instantly; he had an open, kind face and a calming presence. The most surprising reaction I had was a voice inside my head that said, "Oh, there you are!" as if I'd been waiting for an old friend to arrive.

But I dismissed this because it sounded kooky and deluded. I was 30, single, emotionally bruised from a break-up with a very unsuitable person, and in the process of packing up my life to work in Sydney, 10,000 miles away. The instant sense of ease and familiarity I felt when I saw Will was just my mind playing tricks. I naturally presumed he was engaged/married/cohabiting, and it didn't cross my mind to find out. When I caught his eye, and he smiled, I smiled back and turned away (blushing furiously).

And that's when fate intervened.

I asked him the time

My iPod ran out of battery, so I put it in my bag and took out my phone. The battery had also died — odd, it was half-full when I left the office — so I checked my watch to see what time it was. It had stopped working. So, because he was the closest person to me, I asked him for the time. It was just after 7, he said. He smiled, and I smiled. He started to say something, and I mentally willed him to ask me out, but the bus pulled up to his stop, and he shrugged apologetically and got off. There he goes, I thought, back to the lovely girlfriend I'd imagined for him. The doors closed, and he was gone. The bus lurched forward,d and I said my goodbyes.

Moments later, there was a frantic knock on the window, and the doors reopened. Will pushed his way through the crowd toward me. He said he'd never done this before, but was I single? And if so, could he have my number?

After we'd exchanged details and he'd got off the bus (again), a worried-looking woman warned me about giving my number out to random men. I'd normally agree — I'd lived in the city long enough to know not to encourage strangers; I only dated men I met through friends. Instead, I reassured her that he wasn't a weirdo. How do you know, she asked. I just did.

I knew I was going to marry him

On my walk home, I called my sister and said I'd met the man I was going to marry. I thought she'd laugh, but she didn't question it. Will and I were engaged five months later, and the following Januar,y we began a six-month trip backpacking around Australia and New Zealand (that was the compromise, instead of me working abroad for two years). We married, and have been together 21 years. These days, he's tall, gray and handsome, which is fine by me, and we're still in love.

I later found out that Will was helping a friend who'd moved into my neighborhood, so it wasn't his regular route. He'd chased after another bus but missed it by seconds — meanwhile, I'd turned down a post-work drink (unusual move on my part) and just caught the bus we both took. Were we meant to be? I like to think so.