Cambridge Coincidences Collection

My sister and her family were killing time in Covent Garden while the son took his girlfriend to Waterloo Station, Sunday 21/12/08. As she caught the earlier train they were rushing through the crowded market toward the parked car on Waterloo Bridge when they bumped into our "country cousins" who hardly ever venture out of the Forest of Dean.

An extraordinary double coincidence In 1968, with £50 currency restrictions in UK an Australian friend had deposited some money at a Post Restante in Lucerne. My friend Jones and I were driving to Italy, via Lucerne. As we crawled over the Alps in his B Reg Mini Traveller, chatting and reading to each other I spotted the name of the canton/area we were entering: ENGELBERG "Oh" I said "We had a chap at school called Engel___" "Oh" said Jones "I was at Oxford with a chap called Engel___" Since I had been at school in Oxford and Jones and Engel___ had been at Trinity College together this was not SO remarkable. That evening (having collected our cash!) we were in restaurant when who should come through the door? None other than Robert Engel___!!! You can imagine he was as surprised as we were finding two separate people from his past.

Hi, I read quite a lot but find this does not occupy my mind enough so also have the radio on, tuned to radio 4 and have speech rather than music. I feel my mind drifts between the two without slowing on reading. So I started to play a game. If I heard a word on the radio and I was reading this word at the same time (excluding 1 &2 syllable words) I score myself 1 point. In an hours reading I always score 1 and have got as high as 3 with intermittent reading during the day. I have been doing this for several years now. I don't claim a high IQ (about 135 according to the last TV prog). but my brain never switches off. The other, same lady, when we dance Argentine Tango. (we are frequently applauded for our efforts) At my next birthday I am 74, feel about 25 inside and hope it all continues this way.

In late September, 2009, my wife Sheila and I were staying in the Ardeche and on one cloudy day we decided to visit the town of Orange, to the South-East, in Provence. By the time we arrived, it was raining heavily and our visit to the renowned Roman amphitheatre was rather a damp one. We bought two cheap ‘Packamacs’, some postcards, had lunch and then returned to our campsite. Three weeks ago I was idly trolling through our numerous TV cable channels when I paused on an arts channel because a beautiful work by Tchaikovsky (I forget which) was being played by a Russian pianist (Yevgeny ??) The concert was from the Roman amphitheatre in Orange and the rain was pouring heavily down onto the audience. The orchestra and the soloist of course remained dry, under cover. At that moment, my wife walked into the room and I said casually “Look it’s still bl**** raining in Orange”. She turned pale and wordlessly turned over a postcard she was holding in her hand. It was a photograph of the Roman amphitheatre in Orange, a card she has purchased over two years previously and which she had just discovered in a drawer in our study. Mike Overton