I had a project in Victoria, Canada. The cab driver asked me where I lived. I told it was Watford, UK. He told we he had lived in Garston which was a couple of miles up the road. He asked me to take some parts back to his parents which.
I got to the hotel and I filled out the registration card. The receptionist did a double take - she had lived with her parents before she moved to Canada. The parents lived about ten doors from us. More letters delivered.
Today was another. We took a taxi to the hospital. As usual I asked is name and we chatted for a bit. I was a Scotsman. So am I. He moved down to Croxley Green. So did I. Same street. It gets even more of a coincidence - he knew my daughter. They were at the same school.
I moved to a small village in North Yorkshire over a year ago , have to admit its a bit posh and I was worried I might not settle …especially as when asked where I’m from my favourite answer is always … the back streets of Leeds… how funny that two of my neighbours were brought up in the same area one lived just a few doors from my granny and remembers me as a child…things are never as they seem are they
In the early 1970s when travelling from the UK to Australia mostly overland I was in an eating house in Katmandu when I heard, “Hey Bruce”. It was a fella I used to share a flat with in Sydney in the mid 1960s. He was travelling back to the UK.
As an aside it was such a long and interesting trip but impossible today because travelling through Iran and Afghanistan would be problematic to say the least.
