• We have updated the guidelines regarding posting political content: please see the stickied thread on Website Issues.

Minor Strangeness (IHTM)

Well, this is a weird one.

Preface: Roommate moved out yesterday. I'm in the process of more-or-less moving in, since her stuff has sort of dominated (not that I minded).

I need my dishes. They're in the basement where they've been packed away for nearly 20 years. Now, when I bought my dishes all those years ago, I also bought silverware. I specifically got metal ones with green plastic handles, as those matched the green plates and bowls I bought.

This morning, I found my bag o' silverware at the bottom of a box of pots and pans. I opened the bag...it's all stamped flatware. Granted, the design is kinda cool, but where-in-the-Sam-fool-hell did my original silverware go? I even remember rolling up a lot of it in plastic wrap because I didn't want things poking through the grocery bag I stored it all in. A lot of the "new" flatware was also rolled up the same way.

I reiterate that, although this box has moved with me a few times, my silverware had been packed under pots and pans, most of it rolled up tight in plastic wrap, for nearly 20 years. No one could have or would have dug through, found them, stole them, then replaced them with something different.

I don't recognize the new flatware at all. It's neat, and I'm keeping it, but what the hell?
This is so, so reminiscent of my dog-collar incident. I'll have to see if I can find that post!
 
Are you absolutely certain that during the years at some point, in one of your moves, you didn't have some sort of a mix-up?
Could your memory be tricking you?

I've never owned any silverware beyond that which I bought.

I bought it for my very first on-my-own apartment (that is, no roommates). When I left that apartment, that's when I packed those and all the other kitchenware up in boxes, and that and one other kitchenware box has stayed the same (although much less sturdy) through several other moves.

They literally haven't been unpacked since that first apartment.

Oh, and to clarify, everything else in said box is the same stuff I had (Analon pots and pans) when I moved that time. So basically nothing changed but the silverware.
 
If I were you, or you had my brain, the handles in green that matched your dishes would have been something the poetic lobe of that brain would have gradually created in order to have something that matched the beloved dishes. I don't really mean to imply you have a brain like mine. But do you have any pictures from 20 years ago that show your green handled silverware in the background? For that (unrelated) matter, do you have any pictures from 20 years ago? Geez, does anybody keep any pictures from 20 years ago anymore?

I learned to not trust my brain years ago after reading, on various occasions, journal entries and dream diaries in which details didn't match my recollections. These provided good lessons that I also bear in mind when reading history. Documents provide a lot of information, but not about everything, such as where did the green handled silverware go?
 
Well, in this case, I only have my own memory. I didn't think to take photos of my own silverware, just in case this should happen later. (Not to be too snarky about it, but isn't this the way of Fortean things?)

Edit: Also, I bought the silverware at the same time I bought the dishes, so it wasn't a matter of matching them up later or in my own mind or anything. And, again, this was the only silverware set I've ever owned in my life.
 
Last edited:
Well, this is a weird one.

Preface: Roommate moved out yesterday. I'm in the process of more-or-less moving in, since her stuff has sort of dominated the apartment for the 14 years I've been here (not that I minded).

I need my dishes. They're in the basement where they've been packed away for nearly 20 years. Now, when I bought my dishes all those years ago, I also bought silverware. I specifically got metal ones with green plastic handles, as those matched the green plates and bowls I bought.

This morning, I found my bag o' silverware at the bottom of a box of pots and pans. I opened the bag...it's all stamped flatware. Granted, the design is kinda cool, but where-in-the-Sam-fool-hell did my original silverware go? I even remember rolling up a lot of it in plastic wrap because I didn't want things poking through the grocery bag I stored it all in. A lot of the "new" flatware was also rolled up the same way.

I reiterate that, although this box has moved with me a few times, my silverware had been packed under pots and pans, most of it rolled up tight in plastic wrap, then placed in a shopping bag, for nearly 20 years. I can't fathom that anyone would have dug through, found them, stole them, then replaced them with something different and probably more expensive.

I don't recognize the new flatware at all. It's neat, and I'm keeping it, but what the hell?

Edited for clarity

Is your former roommate sitting in her new flat, staring at metal dishes with green plastic handles, thinking, “Where’s all my stamped flatware?

ln other words, has she mistakenly gone off with your boxes from the basement, leaving hers behind?

maximus otter
 
The mention of dementia and associated illnesses reminded me of a minor strangeness that happened during the lockdown. My wife and I had gone out for a walk late in the evening so it would be nice and quiet. It was around 9.30pm and we were walking in a quiet residential area towards the edge of our large town when we noticed a woman standing on the corner of the road we were about to cross. We kept our distance and as we passed her she caught our attention and asked us if there were any village shops further up the road we were about to walk along. She seemed completely lucid but it seemed a strange question given the area and time (over a mile from the town in the opposite direction). I must admit I felt a little spooked as she was also dressed in quite old fashioned clothes, kind of heavy tweed with a hat and she had a large-ish wicker bag. When we spoke about it after we thought she looked like an Enid Blyton or Joyce Grenfell type character - very 1930s.
She wasn't that old, maybe in her 50s and didn't seem confused at all. We told he there was nothing around apart from a petrol station about half a mile away and we briefly told her the route to that but she just thanked us and walked off in the other direction.
The description of the woman reminds me very much of my god mother who dressed like this even into the 1980's.

We were in the Trafford Centre in Manchester pre covid, and I saw an older woman dressed the same, but expensively. What was peculiar though was that this woman was unnaturally thin and I mean nearly skin and bone. So bad that the flesh had sunk between her tibia and fibula and her ulna and radius. The flesh on her face heavily made up appeared virtually none existent. A strange sight but she was marching along with shopping bags full of stuff.
 
The description of the woman reminds me very much of my god mother who dressed like this even into the 1980's.

We were in the Trafford Centre in Manchester pre covid, and I saw an older woman dressed the same, but expensively. What was peculiar though was that this woman was unnaturally thin and I mean nearly skin and bone. So bad that the flesh had sunk between her tibia and fibula and her ulna and radius. The flesh on her face heavily made up appeared virtually none existent. A strange sight but she was marching along with shopping bags full of stuff.
Out on t'mokes yesterday on a cycle/pedestrian path we passed a runner who was unnaturally thin. I mean a beanpole with arms and legs like sticks.
While I'm not sure what sex they were I'm inclined towards them being female because their legs were so skinny. No testosterone, y'know.

Some obsessive exercisers suffer from anorexia and body dysmorphia. I knew a few when I worked in health clubs. They'd grumble because the gym wasn't open on xmas day.*
I wonder if the thin person we saw yesterday was one of those.

*True obsession. A few years ago Techy went for a xmas day bike ride. Something gave way on the bike and he fell off.
As he waited for me to collect him another cyclist stopped to ask if he was OK and they chatted.
'You all right, Mate?'
'Yes thank you, I've only spurgled me gricklets (or whatever) and I'm being picked up.'
'Are those racers good? I was looking at them.'

As bad as each other. :rolleyes:
 
I was reading about ghosts on one of the threads on here.
I heard something fall onto the kitchen tiles so went to look.
It was one of those tins of flavoured coffee, upside down, and the lid was some distance away so that I had to sweep up some of the coffee when I picked it up.
The weird part was that to get there it would have had to jump over the jug as it had sat behind it on the bench.
 
Sunday night. Or rather stupid o'clock Monday am. Ms P stirs.

Ms P - "Don't forget the sultanas"

Me - "Eh?" (thinking I'd misheard)

Ms P - "Don't forget the sultanas, they go in the middle of " (silence)

Me - "Err Ok then, go to sleep"

Ms P - "Ok"

The mystery of the sultanas and where I was supposed to shove them remains unsolved.
 
Sunday night. Or rather stupid o'clock Monday am. Ms P stirs.

Ms P - "Don't forget the sultanas"

Me - "Eh?" (thinking I'd misheard)

Ms P - "Don't forget the sultanas, they go in the middle of " (silence)

Me - "Err Ok then, go to sleep"

Ms P - "Ok"

The mystery of the sultanas and where I was supposed to shove them remains unsolved.
That message was meant for me. I'm supposed to be baking this week and will need sultanas. :wink2:
 
A rather grim strangeness. Sunday evening 2 weeks ago someone finds friend of ours who lives alone in his house, blood everywhere. Thought was that he had been murdered. Blood spattered in every room and over everything and loads of it. Ambulance called and he was revived and kept in hospital. He had apparently fallen on Friday night and split his head open. Concussed and not knowing where he was he had wandered about the house falling and bleeding from more wounds. Medics said that he would not have survived had he not been found that night. It took several days in hospital and a nurse by his bedside to prevent him wandering off, for him to come round. A specialist cleaning team had to go into the house to decontaminate and even they were a touch reluctant.
 
Woke up suddenly in the wee hours (you know what I mean) and stumbled to the bathroom. On way I decided my pyjama top smelled funny.

I pulled it up and sniffed it, and yup, it was sort of musky. Like when your dog rolls in leafy mud or summat.
Carried on smelling it, thinking Do I really stink then? but decided not to bother looking for another top.
Went back to bed, sniffed the top again a bit, and went back to sleep.

This morning there is no trace of any unusual smell. I'm baffled.
 
A rather grim strangeness. Sunday evening 2 weeks ago someone finds friend of ours who lives alone in his house, blood everywhere. Thought was that he had been murdered. Blood spattered in every room and over everything and loads of it. Ambulance called and he was revived and kept in hospital. He had apparently fallen on Friday night and split his head open. Concussed and not knowing where he was he had wandered about the house falling and bleeding from more wounds. Medics said that he would not have survived had he not been found that night. It took several days in hospital and a nurse by his bedside to prevent him wandering off, for him to come round. A specialist cleaning team had to go into the house to decontaminate and even they were a touch reluctant.
Blimey. He did well to last two days.
 
Woke up suddenly in the wee hours (you know what I mean) and stumbled to the bathroom. On way I decided my pyjama top smelled funny.

I pulled it up and sniffed it, and yup, it was sort of musky. Like when your dog rolls in leafy mud or summat.
Carried on smelling it, thinking Do I really stink then? but decided not to bother looking for another top.
Went back to bed, sniffed the top again a bit, and went back to sleep.

This morning there is no trace of any unusual smell. I'm baffled.
Was it clean on that night? If it had been put away slightly damp after washing, it can happen. Then by wearing it, it removed the mustiness. ?
 
Was it clean on that night? If it had been put away slightly damp after washing, it can happen. Then by wearing it, it removed the mustiness. ?
No, it wasn't clean on but had been hanging up all day. The smell wasn't of anything I recognised though I've tried to describe it.
Part of me thinks it was like a deeply-dug grave... :omg:
 
A rather grim strangeness. Sunday evening 2 weeks ago someone finds friend of ours who lives alone in his house, blood everywhere. Thought was that he had been murdered. Blood spattered in every room and over everything and loads of it. Ambulance called and he was revived and kept in hospital. He had apparently fallen on Friday night and split his head open. Concussed and not knowing where he was he had wandered about the house falling and bleeding from more wounds. Medics said that he would not have survived had he not been found that night. It took several days in hospital and a nurse by his bedside to prevent him wandering off, for him to come round. A specialist cleaning team had to go into the house to decontaminate and even they were a touch reluctant.

How awful, I hope he recovers well.

Reminds me of one of the cases described in the late Professor Keith Simpson's grisly memoirs, Forty Years Of Murder.

A couple returned home from a night out to find their young teenage son dead; the place was securely locked and no lights were on. There were signs of what looked like a struggle, with overturned furniture and blood everywhere, though at first glance the boy seemed uninjured.

On examination he was found to have a deep cut on the sole of one foot. He had also drunk a lot of whisky.

Simpson deduced that he'd turned all the lights off (possibly so he wouldn't be disturbed by visitors) and raided the drinks cabinet, and was drunk very quickly. He'd dropped his glass on the floor and stepped on the broken shards with his bare foot.

After that he'd panicked and blundered around in the dark, knocking things over, and eventually collapsed and bled to death.
The excessive bleeding arose from both the large wound and his increased blood pressure/heart rate.

Sounds* unlikely to us lay people but hey, Simpson's word was law.

*I first misspelled that as 'sunds' but the spellchecker didn't pick it up. As this means 'sunds' is a real word I looked it up and found SUNDS or Sudden Unexplained Nocturnal Death Syndrome, which I did know about.
The boy's accident did indeed at first appear to be a sudden unexplained nocturnal death. How apt.
 
Last edited:
The mystery of the sultanas and where I was supposed to shove them remains unsolved
Duh!

Quite clearly MsP is not referring to the dried fruit but to the daughters of a sultan!
In her dream she was arranging some sort of staged event like a play, and the front row was reserved for the nobility.
The seats in the middle were specifically for the young ladies, so that they could get a good view.
Hence the phrase "Don't forget the sultanas, they go in the middle of..." needs to be completed with "...the front row".
 
Sunday night. Or rather stupid o'clock Monday am. Ms P stirs.

Ms P - "Don't forget the sultanas"

Me - "Eh?" (thinking I'd misheard)

Ms P - "Don't forget the sultanas, they go in the middle of " (silence)

Me - "Err Ok then, go to sleep"

Ms P - "Ok"

The mystery of the sultanas and where I was supposed to shove them remains unsolved.
Dreaming of baked apples
 
Cooking off a Fray Bentos tinned pie earlier (yes, I know. Haute cuisine). For the unitiated, these are circular pies nine inches or so across and the lid has to be removed totally prior to putting them in the oven. Tin-opener in one hand, I speculated it would take exactly twenty-three turns of the handle before the lid came off. Twenty-three turns later, there was a poing noise and the tin lid sprang free. As predicted.
1634067130562.png
 
Last edited:
Cooking off a Fray Bentos tinned pie earlier (yes, I know. Haute cuisine). For the unitiated, these are circular pies nine inches or so across and the lid has to be removed totally prior to putting them in the oven. Tin-opener in one had, I speculated it would take exactly twenty-three turns of the handle before the lid came off. Twenty-three turns later, there was a poing noise and the tin lid sprang free. As predicted. View attachment 46526
I had such an addiction to these, their steak and kidney puddings and the Goblins meat puddings. Taste of growing up…
 
Cooking off a Fray Bentos tinned pie earlier ... Tin-opener in one had, I speculated it would take exactly twenty-three turns of the handle before the lid came off. Twenty-three turns later, there was a poing noise and the tin lid sprang free. As predicted.
Assuming this isn't the first time you've opened one of these tins - is it possible you've counted the number of turns required during one or more prior openings?
 
I had such an addiction to these, their steak and kidney puddings and the Goblins meat puddings. Taste of growing up…
I remember eating a Goblin meat pie in a tin back in the 70s. It was so rank, we all felt a bit ill afterwards.
 
Back
Top