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Minor Strangeness (IHTM)

Last week I became Facebook friends with the actress Kristen Stewart (Twilight) for a little over 24 hours.
As anyone who has Facebook knows, on occasions it suggests possible people for you to be friends with.
Reading through some posts last week, some suggested 'friends' were offered to me, and amongst the usual friends of friends and relatives was for some reason, Ms Kristen Stewart.
I looked at her page and it was the actress herself, not a fan page, nor someone with the same name.
I thought ''What the hell'' and clicked the friend request button.
To my surprise, the next morning she had accepted me as a friend and so I spent the next 10 minutes looking through her recent birthday pictures with her girlfriend, also the actress Emma Roberts and some guy.
The next day she'd obviously realized the error of her ways and unfriended me.

That's what I find weird about FaceTwitGram. Don't participate myself. Unbeknown to her Ms PeteS someone got her registered on Facebook although she never used it. One suggested friend she got was my son. Just weird.
 
I've had a look at Facebook, Twitter, and almost thought of joining. Common sense took over and I'ts more fun just poking blunt needles into my eyes.:eek:
 
Last week I became Facebook friends with the actress Kristen Stewart (Twilight) for a little over 24 hours.
As anyone who has Facebook knows, on occasions it suggests possible people for you to be friends with.
Reading through some posts last week, some suggested 'friends' were offered to me, and amongst the usual friends of friends and relatives was for some reason, Ms Kristen Stewart.
I looked at her page and it was the actress herself, not a fan page, nor someone with the same name.
I thought ''What the hell'' and clicked the friend request button.
To my surprise, the next morning she had accepted me as a friend and so I spent the next 10 minutes looking through her recent birthday pictures with her girlfriend, also the actress Emma Roberts and some guy.
The next day she'd obviously realized the error of her ways and unfriended me.

Celebrities have more than one of each type of account (FB, Twitter etc) so they can have a private personal one for family and close friends and one run by their publicity people or agents. Maybe someone mixed them up?
 
This should probably go onto the strange people thread, but I thought I’d stick it here, as I has this strange experience about 20 minutes ago.

Each morning, (pre virus days) I’d drive through a small village on my way to the train station, and its typically what people think a little English village to be - 14 century church, village green, charming thatched roof village pub etc.

Every house in the village is well kept, with immaculate lawns and white picket fences, apart from one which is an absolute eyesore. It doesn’t even look as if the house is habitable, no access can be gained to the front door, as weeds have grown so wild that it prevents it, but someone does live there, as through the cracked and murky windows I’ve sometimes seen movement within - and there is a rusty old red car that sits on the drive.

In the years since I’ve been doing the commute to the station, I’ve often wondered what sort of person would / could live in a house like that, especially in such a pretty village, and I always imagined him or her to be a very elderly person, a bit of a hoarder with neither friends nor family, and too proud to either accept help or go into a home.

Well today I found out.

A little while ago I walked to the local COOP, and to get to there I have to pass a second hand shop, and parked right up outside was the same rusty old red car that is parked on the driveway of the dilapidated house.

I stood in the shop doorway and looked in, and saw the owner of the shop talking to a man who was obviously the owner of the red car. So I entered the shop and pretended to poke around the items for sale, so I could get a better look at this man, and was surprised to see a tall youngish clean shaven chap, who was very well dressed and spoke with a quite a posh accent.

He struck a deal with the owner, over something or other, walked out, got in his rusty red car and drove off. I asked the shop owner if he did a lot of business with the man, and he said he was quite a regular customer of his, but unfortunately he has issues. He told me that he has delivered items to his house over the years and the house is in such a state of disrepair and full of junk.

The poor chap has obviously got something wrong with him, but still, its cleared up something that I’d been wondering about these past 13 years
 
Celebrities have more than one of each type of account (FB, Twitter etc) so they can have a private personal one for family and close friends and one run by their publicity people or agents. Maybe someone mixed them up?

This is likely what happened. Oddly enough, a similar thing happened years ago with James Blunt. At one point, I only had 6 Facebook friends, my wife, my oldest son, three close friends and James Blunt. James & I were friends for around two years until his page changed status into what it is today.
 
This is likely what happened. Oddly enough, a similar thing happened years ago with James Blunt. At one point, I only had 6 Facebook friends, my wife, my oldest son, three close friends and James Blunt. James & I were friends for around two years until his page changed status into what it is today.

James told me that you'd just grown apart from each other. I wouldn't take it too personally.
 
Being a bit of a part-time writer, last night I decided to get my old notebooks and sit up in bed going through them all for ideas. I'll stress now that I've never done this before. Anyway, this morning a friend sent me a message about a dream they had last night that featured me in it.

In one bit she says: "Plus you were sorting through old note books (that were in notebooks of all different size and type). You were glancing quickly through pages then putting them in piles to keep or throw away."

This is exactly right - the notebooks were all different sizes and types. When I told her this is precisely what I'd been doing she added: "What’s funny is that in that part of the dream I was viewing you from a slightly above vantage point that doesn’t happen often in my dreams. Almost like I was there but not there."

Odd!
 
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I've been moving foods and utensils around to different places in the kitchen.
While cleaning one shelf that I had emptied I leant on it and it fell so I had to find the little holders and get it back which was a bit of a job as it's quite heavy.
Finally got it back and have been putting some of the lighter packets on it.
Anyway tonight while we were having dinner it sounded like it fell and smashed some of the jars underneath, so I decided to finish my soup before I went out to clean up.
When I went out the shelf was still in it's place and there was nothing that had fallen or smashed, so my daughter and I were surprised as we both had heard the noise.
 
Something I read today just triggered a memory of a strange event that happened to me many years ago.

In 1986 I lived in Cambridge and I was rooting around for funding to start my PhD and doing some preliminary reading and research towards it. I was supporting myself by signing on, what they used to call a Henry Giles scholarship because the local jobcentre was Henry Giles house. The law in those days was that if you were under 25 and living away from your parental home (as I was), you had to change addresses every six weeks or you would lose your eligibility for benefits. So I was hopping from address to address quite frequently, always near the centre of town.

Whenver you moved. you had to fill out a new form saying among other things which post office you would like to pick up your dole cheque from. I always put Trinity Street post office as it was very central and near St John's where I was hanging out much of the time. One time, having just moved again, I went there to collect my cheque only to be told I was not registered to there anymore. I went to Henry Giles house to sort out the error, and they told me I was registered to a post office in Arbury - a remote area of Cambridge which I had literally never heard of. I argued that they'd made a mistake so they looked out my form and showed me, and there in my unmistakeable handwriting I had just a few days before written the address of a place I didn't know in an area of town I had never heard of.

I have no explanation for this!
 
Maybe you were somewhat distracted as you filled out the form and someone nearby said "Arbury." I've done stuff like that, write what I was hearing instead of what I'd meant to write.

What an obnoxious system, though! Moving every 6 weeks? Then filling out a new form? How disruptive for you, and what a waste of time! (And paper.)
 
The law in those days was that if you were under 25 and living away from your parental home (as I was), you had to change addresses every six weeks or you would lose your eligibility for benefits.

I have no explanation for this! How could they possibly justify such a ludicrous thing? Presumably the logic was that it made it harder for people to claim the benefits they were eligible for.
 
Something I read today just triggered a memory of a strange event that happened to me many years ago.

In 1986 I lived in Cambridge and I was rooting around for funding to start my PhD and doing some preliminary reading and research towards it. I was supporting myself by signing on, what they used to call a Henry Giles scholarship because the local jobcentre was Henry Giles house. The law in those days was that if you were under 25 and living away from your parental home (as I was), you had to change addresses every six weeks or you would lose your eligibility for benefits. So I was hopping from address to address quite frequently, always near the centre of town.

Whenver you moved. you had to fill out a new form saying among other things which post office you would like to pick up your dole cheque from. I always put Trinity Street post office as it was very central and near St John's where I was hanging out much of the time. One time, having just moved again, I went there to collect my cheque only to be told I was not registered to there anymore. I went to Henry Giles house to sort out the error, and they told me I was registered to a post office in Arbury - a remote area of Cambridge which I had literally never heard of. I argued that they'd made a mistake so they looked out my form and showed me, and there in my unmistakeable handwriting I had just a few days before written the address of a place I didn't know in an area of town I had never heard of.

I have no explanation for this!
Arbury isn't that remote!
 
This is a very minor strangeness and personal - but hey, who else have I to talk to ?
A couple of days ago I was going through box-files of largely unsorted papers from my parents, that have been in my bedroom for 3 years. I found a hand written 'Messages and Directions' note for my Mother, dated 29-6-1962, from the hospital nurses to the doctor in charge. Mum had a temp of 104 F, pulse 140 and was given a blanket bath at 2 pm. Then possible migraine (? handwriting), alternatively hot and cold and a peak temp of 104.2 F at 10pm. By 9 am next morning, temp had dropped to 100 F, pulse 98, breast flushed and tender. Mum never mentioned this incidence but my younger sister would have been about 6 months old so I wondered if this was anything to do with Mastitis (milk fever). I would have been less than two and a half years old at the time, living on a dairy farm on the Dunstable Downs until we moved in 1963, so very unlikely to have a memory of any of this. Except that I think I do.
I'd finished doing whatever important thing that needed doing by a two year old and found that the garden was empty - there was no-one in the house and when I wandered through the garden gate on to the farm lane I couldn't see anyone. I may have started to cry, quite probable, imagine yourself emerging from lock-down to find you're the only person on the planet. Colin the young farm-hand heard me and came up, I didn't know him well but enough to recognise his face and see concern and sympathy in it. What I think happened was my Mother had fallen ill (never one to 'bother' a Doctor and would go to bed rather than call an Ambulance) . Father had dropped everything to take her to hospital in the van, I don't know if my baby sister went with them or was left with a neighbour, my elder brother and sister would have been at school (Friday) and I was probably just MIA to be retrieved later.
Every day a new connection with my memories made (and several forgotten).
 
This is a very minor strangeness and personal - but hey, who else have I to talk to ?
A couple of days ago I was going through box-files of largely unsorted papers from my parents, that have been in my bedroom for 3 years. I found a hand written 'Messages and Directions' note for my Mother, dated 29-6-1962, from the hospital nurses to the doctor in charge. Mum had a temp of 104 F, pulse 140 and was given a blanket bath at 2 pm. Then possible migraine (? handwriting), alternatively hot and cold and a peak temp of 104.2 F at 10pm. By 9 am next morning, temp had dropped to 100 F, pulse 98, breast flushed and tender. Mum never mentioned this incidence but my younger sister would have been about 6 months old so I wondered if this was anything to do with Mastitis (milk fever). I would have been less than two and a half years old at the time, living on a dairy farm on the Dunstable Downs until we moved in 1963, so very unlikely to have a memory of any of this. Except that I think I do.
I'd finished doing whatever important thing that needed doing by a two year old and found that the garden was empty - there was no-one in the house and when I wandered through the garden gate on to the farm lane I couldn't see anyone. I may have started to cry, quite probable, imagine yourself emerging from lock-down to find you're the only person on the planet. Colin the young farm-hand heard me and came up, I didn't know him well but enough to recognise his face and see concern and sympathy in it. What I think happened was my Mother had fallen ill (never one to 'bother' a Doctor and would go to bed rather than call an Ambulance) . Father had dropped everything to take her to hospital in the van, I don't know if my baby sister went with them or was left with a neighbour, my elder brother and sister would have been at school (Friday) and I was probably just MIA to be retrieved later.
Every day a new connection with my memories made (and several forgotten).
How times have changed BB. In modern times the farm hand would have reported the matter to the Police, a 20 year old social worker would have been on the doorstep and your parents prosecuted for abandoning a 2 year old. The Sun would have had a field day. It may of course not happened quite how you remembered it and the farm hand may have been told to look after you during the emergency.
I'm having the same experience as you as I age rapidly in terms of remembering events from long ago. Ms PeteS looks after the elderly and she reports that many have very vivid memories of their childhood but unable to remember what they had for breakfast that day. Strange things memories.
 
How times have changed BB. In modern times the farm hand would have reported the matter to the Police, a 20 year old social worker would have been on the doorstep and your parents prosecuted for abandoning a 2 year old. The Sun would have had a field day. It may of course not happened quite how you remembered it and the farm hand may have been told to look after you during the emergency.
I'm having the same experience as you as I age rapidly in terms of remembering events from long ago. Ms PeteS looks after the elderly and she reports that many have very vivid memories of their childhood but unable to remember what they had for breakfast that day. Strange things memories.

I wonder if that is something to do with the strength of the memory when it is stored? I personally have experienced something similar and I'm only 64. Memories since before my wife died seem easier to recall than recent events - perhaps that's because I don't feel so affected by them when they occur? I don't really care much about things like food any more, so remembering what I ate isn't going to be tagged as 'high priority' .
 
I don't really care much about things like food any more, so remembering what I ate isn't going to be tagged as 'high priority' .
I have always had this. My Mum would ask me what I had for lunch at school, and sometimes I couldn't remember. It's not something I tend to commit to memory - my brain throws it away, pretty much. I'd just answer 'food' and leave it at that.
I'm still like this today.
 
I wonder if that is something to do with the strength of the memory when it is stored? I personally have experienced something similar and I'm only 64. Memories since before my wife died seem easier to recall than recent events - perhaps that's because I don't feel so affected by them when they occur? I don't really care much about things like food any more, so remembering what I ate isn't going to be tagged as 'high priority' .
Ha - same age , same experience. I'm sure your conclusions are correct.
 
I got a snakestone a couple of days ago and propped it on my Wunderkabinett but it kept rolling off. Moved it to another shelf next to the crocodile head with a pocket watch in a glass dome (à la Capt Hook) from Sis-in-law. It rolled (slithered) off taking various artifacts with it and as I made a dive for it, the glass dome went flying. Caught the dome without damage but brushed my hand against the barrel-cactus whilst doing so. " Hah - you have to do better than that !" I vocalised angrily to no-one in particular as everything was put back in place and I pulled the spines out. Went into kitchen to make a drink and as I turned, the coffee mug sitting under the Tassimo landed on the floor in six pieces. I don't usually have a favourite piece of crockery but this BDH mug (British Drug House, before it became VWR, Merck-VWR, then VWR-Avantor) fitted perfectly under the machine and filled with just enough room for the milk and sugar. After all these years - I was really a bit upset.
Washed the bedding (communal laundry) and realised one of the pillowcases was missing as I made my bed last night. On top of the folded duvet cover however was a red jewel. Glass I'm guessing and in no way compensate for my coffee mug . I reckon some-one had a brooch still attached to their dress when they put it in the washing machine or tumbler before me and the stone got collected in the filter (as happened last year). The stone was then tranferred to my laundry and after much shaking and folding ended up on top of my duvet cover, or something. So I haven't so much found an object as some-one has lost something - any one reading this ?
Retrieved the missing pillow case from inside one of the other pillows this morning. Hah- you'll have to do better than that !

Ruby_0735.jpg
 
I don't usually have a favourite piece of crockery but this BDH mug (British Drug House, before it became VWR, Merck-VWR, then VWR-Avantor) fitted perfectly under the machine and filled with just enough room for the milk and sugar. After all these years - I was really a bit upset.
The mysterious jewel is awesome! And I never knew what BDH stood for.

Would it be possible to glue this mug back together and use it as a pen holder?
 
I got a snakestone a couple of days ago and propped it on my Wunderkabinett but it kept rolling off. Moved it to another shelf next to the crocodile head with a pocket watch in a glass dome (à la Capt Hook) from Sis-in-law. It rolled (slithered) off taking various artifacts with it and as I made a dive for it, the glass dome went flying. Caught the dome without damage but brushed my hand against the barrel-cactus whilst doing so. " Hah - you have to do better than that !" I vocalised angrily to no-one in particular as everything was put back in place and I pulled the spines out. Went into kitchen to make a drink and as I turned, the coffee mug sitting under the Tassimo landed on the floor in six pieces. I don't usually have a favourite piece of crockery but this BDH mug (British Drug House, before it became VWR, Merck-VWR, then VWR-Avantor) fitted perfectly under the machine and filled with just enough room for the milk and sugar. After all these years - I was really a bit upset.
Washed the bedding (communal laundry) and realised one of the pillowcases was missing as I made my bed last night. On top of the folded duvet cover however was a red jewel. Glass I'm guessing and in no way compensate for my coffee mug . I reckon some-one had a brooch still attached to their dress when they put it in the washing machine or tumbler before me and the stone got collected in the filter (as happened last year). The stone was then tranferred to my laundry and after much shaking and folding ended up on top of my duvet cover, or something. So I haven't so much found an object as some-one has lost something - any one reading this ?
Retrieved the missing pillow case from inside one of the other pillows this morning. Hah- you'll have to do better than that !

View attachment 26081
Find out if it's more than just glass.
 
The last few days I've noticed cigarette butts left on the footpath
This morning when I went out to collect the newspaper I noticed the retreating back of a woman walking for her health I suppose but who was puffing away on a cigarette every few steps.
I thought" I wonder how much good she's actually doing herself".
 
Going out to get certain essential supplies earlier - i.e. booze - when I got to the third of a mile straight stretch on our lane I saw someone walking down it at the other end. This stretch of lane has a kink in the end where it join the main road and is full of potholes, so I was not driving much faster than walking pace. Watched the chap ahead because there are dry stone walls on each side and clearances can be quite tight (it's not in fact a public right of way, but people don't care if they are on holiday. I bet they'd get upset if someone had a picnic in their front garden - sorry, I digress)

Said chap turned the corner - by now I'm only about 50 yards behind him. I turn the corner and no-one to be seen. There's nowhere to hide unless he jumped the dry stone wall and I can't imagine why anyone would do that.

No-one in sight at all in any direction.

Weird.
 
Maybe he went over the wall to avoid being followed by a car?
That's something I would do, as long as I didn't see any spiders lurking in the crevices of the dry stone wall.
Possibly, but I was going very slowly and he was still as I said 50 yards or so ahead.
 
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