3 Coincidences - uncanny chains of events

In 1995 as I sat next to an elderly lady on a flight to Auckland I had a feeling that she was a gardener. Sure enough, in the course of conversation it emerged that she had given the Devon estate of Rosemoor to the RHS and this had been her last trip to UK to visit her former home.We talked plants and gardens all the way to LA. 3 weeks after my return to Nottingham I was at a party. I was chatting to my host's neighbour who had visited my garden, open for the NGS. 'I went to a superb garden on holiday. You'd love it. Rosemoor, in Devon and we met Lady Anne, who gave it to the RHS. She was fascinating to talk to. Probably her last time visiting the place.' 'I've met her', I said. I had a fragile parcel to send abroad. On a day that I wasn't on duty I popped into the Samaritan office for some shreddings.We seldom wrote anything down and we hardly ever committed our names and numbers to paper, but, once in a while, notes were made and later put through the shredder. I packed my parcel and scooped a few thin strips and bits into a wastebasket for burning in the garden a few days later. As I put my lighted match to the pile the strip under my flame clearly bore my Samaritan name and number. When Jon was 12 his parents took him to Tunisia. The only other boy in the party was German and spoke no English. Somehow they got along together. The boy's father had a nickname for his son; Micky Mouse. When Jon was in his early 30's he was skiing in Andorra and had missed the last bus from the slopes to the hotel. He was hitching a lift. Two men in a car stopped. They were german skiiers, father and son. Just as Jon was getting out of the car the older man called the younger Micky Mouse.