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Minor Strangeness (IHTM)

This is a bit stupid for a case of minor strangeness but yesterday, I was walking along, nothing unusual in the least, when I suddenly pitched forward and (with surprising force) hit the ground. I didn't stumble, or slip, there was no obstacle in the way or uneven ground, and no one near enough to have tripped me. It just happened. Got some nasty scrapes and bruises to show for it, too.

Weird.
 
This is a bit stupid for a case of minor strangeness but yesterday, I was walking along, nothing unusual in the least, when I suddenly pitched forward and (with surprising force) hit the ground. I didn't stumble, or slip, there was no obstacle in the way or uneven ground, and no one near enough to have tripped me. It just happened. Got some nasty scrapes and bruises to show for it, too.

Weird.
That happened to me a few years back. I was walking out of my front door when I suddenly lost balance and fell on my side. Thankfully, grabbing onto the door handle helped slow my landing, so I was OK. Normally, I can tell when I'm falling over, but on that occasion, it just happened as if my legs gave way.
 
Here is my minor strangeness that I've decided is minorly strange enough to share:

Years ago I worked part time at a library. One of the newer patrons was an eccentric man my co-workers dubbed "The Fish Bucket Man" because he always carried the same kind of five gallon plastic bucket that someone's grandfather took fishing. It was hard to tell if the Fish Bucket Man was just odd, or some kind of genius, but he normally didn't talk to us peons.

One night after I'd finished my shift I entertained myself as I often do by making up doggerel songs and singing them to myself in my head. (As any normal person does.) This is the song, sung to the tune (and most of the words) of "Buffalo Gal": "Fish Bucket Man won't you come out tonight, come out tonight, come out tonight; oh, Fish Bucket Man won't you come out tonight, and dance by the light of the moon." Repeat ad nauseam.

The next shift I worked, the Fish Bucket Man talked to me. He talked to me several times after that.

I stopped singing the song.
 
Here is my minor strangeness that I've decided is minorly strange enough to share:

Years ago I worked part time at a library. One of the newer patrons was an eccentric man my co-workers dubbed "The Fish Bucket Man" because he always carried the same kind of five gallon plastic bucket that someone's grandfather took fishing. It was hard to tell if the Fish Bucket Man was just odd, or some kind of genius, but he normally didn't talk to us peons.

One night after I'd finished my shift I entertained myself as I often do by making up doggerel songs and singing them to myself in my head. (As any normal person does.) This is the song, sung to the tune (and most of the words) of "Buffalo Gal": "Fish Bucket Man won't you come out tonight, come out tonight, come out tonight; oh, Fish Bucket Man won't you come out tonight, and dance by the light of the moon." Repeat ad nauseam.

The next shift I worked, the Fish Bucket Man talked to me. He talked to me several times after that.

I stopped singing the song.

We may be seeing the start of a new Slender Man type meme.
Try looking in a mirror at midnight and saying "Fish Bucket Man" three times
 
Here is my minor strangeness that I've decided is minorly strange enough to share:

Years ago I worked part time at a library. One of the newer patrons was an eccentric man my co-workers dubbed "The Fish Bucket Man" because he always carried the same kind of five gallon plastic bucket that someone's grandfather took fishing. It was hard to tell if the Fish Bucket Man was just odd, or some kind of genius, but he normally didn't talk to us peons.

One night after I'd finished my shift I entertained myself as I often do by making up doggerel songs and singing them to myself in my head. (As any normal person does.) This is the song, sung to the tune (and most of the words) of "Buffalo Gal": "Fish Bucket Man won't you come out tonight, come out tonight, come out tonight; oh, Fish Bucket Man won't you come out tonight, and dance by the light of the moon." Repeat ad nauseam.

The next shift I worked, the Fish Bucket Man talked to me. He talked to me several times after that.

I stopped singing the song.

:rollingw:

But seriously, I think songs can have darn near the effect of a magic spell. I'm pretty sure I've mentioned my freakish Venus in Furs incident here, and not long too long ago on Twitter, a number of people reported ill effects from having Baker Street by Gerry Rafferty stuck in their heads. (The line "one more year and you will be happy" seemed to guarantee another year of being miserable.)
 
I used to work as a science technician in a school. Part of the job involved collecting samples to look at through microscopes or privet to feed stick insects etc, so I often was to be found walking around the school site and into nearby fields carrying a bucket (to put the samples in. An entire class needs a fair bit of stuff).

People often saw me walking around, peering into bushes, carrying my bright yellow bucket, and they would ask 'why are you carrying a bucket?' The simple answer seemed a bit...well, obvious, so I used to trill gaily 'oh, this is my new handbag. Everyone's carrying these this year!'

I don't *think* they believed me, but...
 
:rollingw:

But seriously, I think songs can have darn near the effect of a magic spell. I'm pretty sure I've mentioned my freakish Venus in Furs incident here, and not long too long ago on Twitter, a number of people reported ill effects from having Baker Street by Gerry Rafferty stuck in their heads. (The line "one more year and you will be happy" seemed to guarantee another year of being miserable.)
Am I right in thinking that the Countdown fella, Richard Whiteley, played the saxophone solo on this track?
 
This is a bit stupid for a case of minor strangeness but yesterday, I was walking along, nothing unusual in the least, when I suddenly pitched forward and (with surprising force) hit the ground. I didn't stumble, or slip, there was no obstacle in the way or uneven ground, and no one near enough to have tripped me. It just happened. Got some nasty scrapes and bruises to show for it, too.

Weird.
There's this bungalow near here I used to walk the dogs past it. It's the only building on the lane behind our house. Pensioner who lives there randomly put two big concrete blocks either side of the driveway on the grass verge. They're about a foot square. I've no idea what their function is. There's no need for them I can see.

Years ago, I was walking the dog(s) with one of my kids. He still talks about this now. For some reason, as we got next to the concrete blocks, I slipped and fell backwards with my head landing firmly smack square on one of the blocks. I couldn't quite believe it but I felt no pain, no dizziness, nothing. Just stood up and carried on walking. No ill effects afterwards (well, I dunno, maybe it could explain a lot). Apart from shock because... it didn't even hurt. Not one little bit. I still don't understand it and when we drive past kid often says "Remember that time when..."

I must have hit it at just the perfect angle for no consequences, somehow.
 
There's this bungalow near here I used to walk the dogs past it. It's the only building on the lane behind our house. Pensioner who lives there randomly put two big concrete blocks either side of the driveway on the grass verge. They're about a foot square. I've no idea what their function is. There's no need for them I can see.

Years ago, I was walking the dog(s) with one of my kids. He still talks about this now. For some reason, as we got next to the concrete blocks, I slipped and fell backwards with my head landing firmly smack square on one of the blocks. I couldn't quite believe it but I felt no pain, no dizziness, nothing. Just stood up and carried on walking. No ill effects afterwards (well, I dunno, maybe it could explain a lot). Apart from shock because... it didn't even hurt. Not one little bit. I still don't understand it and when we drive past kid often says "Remember that time when..."

I must have hit it at just the perfect angle for no consequences, somehow.

Sounds like you had some fantastic luck!
 
:rollingw:

But seriously, I think songs can have darn near the effect of a magic spell. I'm pretty sure I've mentioned my freakish Venus in Furs incident here, and not long too long ago on Twitter, a number of people reported ill effects from having Baker Street by Gerry Rafferty stuck in their heads. (The line "one more year and you will be happy" seemed to guarantee another year of being miserable.)

Ah, the power of song -

Once when sitting on a public bench I heard a kid screaming. Not my kid, not my prob, but as the sound drew nearer I saw that it was a little girl with her mother and gran, holding one hand up in the other with a finger extended. She'd been stung on a fingertip by a wasp.

I carry insect bite ointment in summer so I offered them some, and she bravely took a blob and rubbed it in, and I said 'Sing your favourite song and when you get to the end it will start feeling better.' The idea being to give her something else to focus on, y'know.
They went off together and all seemed well.

Anyway... I thought afterwards of how in times past you'd say certain prayers while undergoing a treatment, partly to ask for Divine help and partly to time the procedure. Probably also helped take your mind off the fact that you had leeches stuck all over you.
 
This is either a minor strangeness or a coincidence but my friend and I were walking on Thursday and talking about old films (to be precise the first films we went to see at the cinema). She said hers was Born Free, which was my late mum's favourite film, and we chatted about it for a while. I hadn't thought of that film in years. Today, driving across the Wolds and listening to Desert Island Discs, the lady who was on chose the instrumental version of the song Born Free as one of her tracks. It made me think of my mum again, which was rather sweet.
Guess what has been my earworm all day?

Edited to say since about 07:00 long before I looged into this site!
 
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This is a bit stupid for a case of minor strangeness but yesterday, I was walking along, nothing unusual in the least, when I suddenly pitched forward and (with surprising force) hit the ground. I didn't stumble, or slip, there was no obstacle in the way or uneven ground, and no one near enough to have tripped me. It just happened. Got some nasty scrapes and bruises to show for it, too.

Weird.
Gravity storm.
 
There's this bungalow near here I used to walk the dogs past it. It's the only building on the lane behind our house. Pensioner who lives there randomly put two big concrete blocks either side of the driveway on the grass verge. They're about a foot square. I've no idea what their function is. There's no need for them I can see.

Years ago, I was walking the dog(s) with one of my kids. He still talks about this now. For some reason, as we got next to the concrete blocks, I slipped and fell backwards with my head landing firmly smack square on one of the blocks. I couldn't quite believe it but I felt no pain, no dizziness, nothing. Just stood up and carried on walking. No ill effects afterwards (well, I dunno, maybe it could explain a lot). Apart from shock because... it didn't even hurt. Not one little bit. I still don't understand it and when we drive past kid often says "Remember that time when..."

I must have hit it at just the perfect angle for no consequences, somehow.

Are the blocks maybe there to stop people parking too close to the entrance to the driveway? I've got some big rocks outside my driveway gates - mostly to use to prop the gates open in windy weather, but they also serve as a visual marker for people parking (they don't want to drive over the rocks and risk damaging their cars, so they stay well clear of the entrance).
 
One for the conspiracy section. Should it feed one's paranoia that when i refreshed the Airbnb page on my web browser the tab turned to Russian ( i assume)?

1563622176022.png


It returned to normal when i refreshed it again.
 
:rollingw:

But seriously, I think songs can have darn near the effect of a magic spell. I'm pretty sure I've mentioned my freakish Venus in Furs incident here, and not long too long ago on Twitter, a number of people reported ill effects from having Baker Street by Gerry Rafferty stuck in their heads. (The line "one more year and you will be happy" seemed to guarantee another year of being miserable.)
Hi ,sorry I missed the story re Venus in Furs. As a teenager{not in the 60s} I was a big fan of this song and the Velvet Underground..
 
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