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Strange Coincidences?

Wherever it's from, the art director wasn't inspired by Victorian style manicures.
 
Trevp666 said:
My brother went on a business trip to (IIRC) Brighton one year (late 80s?) and when he got to the Bed & Breakfast early evening there was no answer at the door, so he left his suitcase in the entrance/porch thing, and went off into town for something to eat and have a beer.
When he returned a couple of hours later he found the road sealed off by Police and there was a UXB unit in attendance, rolling out one of those little tracked vehicles to deal with a bomb.
So he hung around for a while hoping to get to his B&B soon, but then realised that the focus of the attention was the same place.
After speaking to one of the coppers he found out that they were treating a suitcase as a suspicious item.
My brother had to sheepishly inform them that that was his suitcase and all that was in it was some toiletries, a couple of changes of underwear and his suit, shirt and tie.
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We had a lad come over from Ireland to join my old Force back in the Eighties. He booked in for a night at a nice local hotel, but made the mistake of leaving his suitcase - covered in labels showing its point of origin as being the Republic of Ireland - in the lobby.

He returned to the hotel after a look round Boringtown to find his charred chuddies hanging from a tree outside the hotel, above the smouldering remains of his case, the whole tableau being surrounded by pissed-off EOD wallahs.

Not an auspicious beginning to a career in the police.

maximus otter
 
I read Trevs post and was reminded of an incident in the late 80s at Empress state building when someone's Lunch box and Trumpet case were spotted in a vehicle in the car park, deemed suspicious and subject to a controlled explosion. This seems so unlikely that I think I must have drifted off during what was a very long training course (a week) on the 23rd floor.
 
maximus otter said:
He returned to the hotel after a look round Boringtown to find his charred chuddies hanging from a tree outside the hotel, above the smouldering remains of his case, the whole tableau being surrounded by pissed-off EOD wallahs
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I've been there too....many moons ago. I had absent-mindedly left an unmarked satchel containing three ring binders of my (unduplicated, irreplaceable) college project work in a certain location totally obliterated by a Bomb Disposal mini-tank robot thing (the kind that fires shotgun cartridges at a range of zero feet).

The coincidence element was that the satchel was brand-new, it was its first (and last) time out of the house: a purchase made specifically to secure the contents.

I hadn't (at the time) visually 'bonded' with it's colour/shape/size, and blissfully wandered off, accidentally leaving it to a terrible fate: my old (externally-marked with my name) rucsack was falling apart, and I was afraid I might've lost my vital project notes out of the bottom of it, hence the upgrade. However, once the whole lot was converted into scorched confetti scattered across the ceiling, that was no longer a problem.

ps I read this:
when someone's Lunch box and Trumpet case
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as:
Trump's Lunch-box is a case for someone
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GNC said:
The fact they were subjected to a controlled explosion makes me thankful they aren't a euphemism.
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I dunno, subjecting a lunch box and trumpet case to a controlled explosion might be part of one's very particular set of skills. :wink2:
 
Eyespy said:
I read Trevs post and was reminded of an incident in the late 80s at Empress state building when someone's Lunch box and Trumpet case were spotted in a vehicle in the car park, deemed suspicious and subject to a controlled explosion. ...
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Ermintruder said:
I've been there too....many moons ago. I had absent-mindedly left an unmarked satchel containing three ring binders of my (unduplicated, irreplaceable) college project work in a certain location totally obliterated by a Bomb Disposal mini-tank robot thing (the kind that fires shotgun cartridges at a range of zero feet). ...
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I thought I'd confessed this admittedly deliberate passive withholding of aid to a fellow passenger before, but I can find no trace of having done so.

It was the very late Eighties or early Nineties. I was living in Sweden and flying back to the USA on SAS. Our flight out of Stockholm stopped in Copenhagen for airliner clean-out and prep for the transatlantic leg of the flight. All passengers were instructed to debark to the gate's passenger lounge and take all carried-on bags and other possessions with them for what was expected to be a 30-minute wait before re-boarding and continuing on our way.

One of my fellow passengers was a middle-aged woman who'd already begun to grate heavily on my nerves. She was one of those folks who dresses up in a gaudy fashion (designer outfits, excessive array of jewelry) to travel, and her loud motor-mouth continuously spewed her self-certified authoritative comments and opinions to whomever was unlucky enough to be around her.

Largely motivated by a desire to be as far away from Ms. Chatterbox as possible, I took up a standing position at the large plate glass window overlooking our airliner. I watched as a flock of motorized carts parked around our plane and cleaning crews scurried on board.

In the background Ms. Chatterbox was railing about all the inconvenience and bother. She mentioned being slightly offended about having to lug her carry-on bag off the plane during the maintenance stopover, and noted she'd not been bothered to bring her bag with her.

That's about the time I saw all the cleaning personnel evacuate the plane and one of them use a walkie-talkie. Very soon a second motorized cart rushed to the scene carrying people in police-style uniforms. These folks entered the plane and exited after only about a minute inside.

Another motor-cart pulled up carrying a guy wearing a bomb disposal suit, who conferred with the others and entered the plane. The police-garbed folks waved at the cleaning personnel to leave the immediate area, and they retreated.

In no more than a couple of additional minutes the bomb guy appeared at the plane's door holding at arms' length an elaborately decorated designer satchel matching the baroque design motif of Ms. Chatterbox's purse.

I could feel my lower face shifting into a Disaster Girl evil smile ...

The innocent voice from my right shoulder gasped, "Oh no! Surely not!"

The evil voice from my left shoulder said, "None of your business. It's all on that blathering ninny Ms. Chatterbox. None of your concern."

The Right Voice: "If you were to hurriedly notify the airline personnel at the desk you might prevent ..."

The Left Voice: "Never obstruct the karmic forces; never interfere with the dispensing of an important life lesson."

Me: "Shut up, the both of you! The bench rules in favor of the Voice Sinister on the grounds of principle."

The bomb guy gingerly placed the bag on an otherwise empty baggage cart at the rear of a baggage train, took his place at the driver's seat of the train's baggage tug, and drove away toward the grassy infield on the other side of the tarmac. He drove onto the grass and parked beside a crater-like pit in the ground I hadn't noticed before. He then took the bag and carefully carried it down into the pit, which was deep enough that only the tip-top of his headgear - if anything - was visible. When he'd emerged from the crater / pit he walked a few yards away and signaled to one of the police types, who was holding a sizable controller style device. The police type manipulated the controller thingie, and ...

There was more of a 'thud' than a 'boom', and a puff of smoke rose from the crater / pit.

The other police types had entered the plane during this procedure. They emerged, signaled to the cleaning / maintenance personnel who'd withdrawn to some distance, and left as the crews re-entered the plane.

It was all I could do to stifle a laugh, so I calmed down by drifting over to the refreshment table provided us for a morning pastry and some good coffee.
 
EnolaGaia said:
I thought I'd confessed this admittedly deliberate passive withholding of aid to a fellow passenger before, but I can find no trace of having done so.

It was the very late Eighties or early Nineties. I was living in Sweden and flying back to the USA on SAS. Our flight out of Stockholm stopped in Copenhagen for airliner clean-out and prep for the transatlantic leg of the flight. All passengers were instructed to debark to the gate's passenger lounge and take all carried-on bags and other possessions with them for what was expected to be a 30-minute wait before re-boarding and continuing on our way.

One of my fellow passengers was a middle-aged woman who'd already begun to grate heavily on my nerves. She was one of those folks who dresses up in a gaudy fashion (designer outfits, excessive array of jewelry) to travel, and her loud motor-mouth continuously spewed her self-certified authoritative comments and opinions to whomever was unlucky enough to be around her.

Largely motivated by a desire to be as far away from Ms. Chatterbox as possible, I took up a standing position at the large plate glass window overlooking our airliner. I watched as a flock of motorized carts parked around our plane and cleaning crews scurried on board.

In the background Ms. Chatterbox was railing about all the inconvenience and bother. She mentioned being slightly offended about having to lug her carry-on bag off the plane during the maintenance stopover, and noted she'd not been bothered to bring her bag with her.

That's about the time I saw all the cleaning personnel evacuate the plane and one of them use a walkie-talkie. Very soon a second motorized cart rushed to the scene carrying people in police-style uniforms. These folks entered the plane and exited after only about a minute inside.

Another motor-cart pulled up carrying a guy wearing a bomb disposal suit, who conferred with the others and entered the plane. The police-garbed folks waved at the cleaning personnel to leave the immediate area, and they retreated.

In no more than a couple of additional minutes the bomb guy appeared at the plane's door holding at arms' length an elaborately decorated designer satchel matching the baroque design motif of Ms. Chatterbox's purse.

I could feel my lower face shifting into a Disaster Girl evil smile ...

The innocent voice from my right shoulder gasped, "Oh no! Surely not!"

The evil voice from my left shoulder said, "None of your business. It's all on that blathering ninny Ms. Chatterbox. None of your concern."

The Right Voice: "If you were to hurriedly notify the airline personnel at the desk you might prevent ..."

The Left Voice: "Never obstruct the karmic forces; never interfere with the dispensing of an important life lesson."

Me: "Shut up, the both of you! The bench rules in favor of the Voice Sinister on the grounds of principle."

The bomb guy gingerly placed the bag on an otherwise empty baggage cart at the rear of a baggage train, took his place at the driver's seat of the train's baggage tug, and drove away toward the grassy infield on the other side of the tarmac. He drove onto the grass and parked beside a crater-like pit in the ground I hadn't noticed before. He then took the bag and carefully carried it down into the pit, which was deep enough that only the tip-top of his headgear - if anything - was visible. When he'd emerged from the crater / pit he walked a few yards away and signaled to one of the police types, who was holding a sizable controller style device. The police type manipulated the controller thingie, and ...

There was more of a 'thud' than a 'boom', and a puff of smoke rose from the crater / pit.

The other police types had entered the plane during this procedure. They emerged, signaled to the cleaning / maintenance personnel who'd withdrawn to some distance, and left as the crews re-entered the plane.

It was all I could do to stifle a laugh, so I calmed down by drifting over to the refreshment table provided us for a morning pastry and some good coffee.
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Sorry but me being me I could not have resisted pointing out the woman and loudly proclaiming "ooh look they're blowing up that woman's bag".
 
PeteS said:
Sorry but me being me I could not have resisted pointing out the woman and loudly proclaiming "ooh look they're blowing up that woman's bag".
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It did occur to me (as the bomb disposal guy exited the plane with the carry-on bag I'd expected to see) to call out to her and ask, "Is that your bag?" However, I didn't want to attract attention to myself, and as an observer I'd become curious how the official activity was going to play out. It wasn't until the bomb guy carried the bag into the crater / pit in the infield that I realized they were going to destroy it then and there.
 
I would not be at all surprised if one of the 'cabin crew' had a hand in it.
They were probably as fed-up with Mrs Gobby as you were, but their professional decorum meant that they would not have shown it.
Oh I bet they were 'made up' when they realised that Mrs Gobby had left her bag in the locker.
They probably deliberately pointed it out to the UXB guy and recommended taking it away for a controlled explosion.
 
Listening to the regular morning "popmaster" quiz on Radio Two today. Contestant selection is pretty much random and the screening questions asked are to do with general knowledge about pop music and doing the due diligence to make sure they don't get any nutters on live radio. it's emerged that the two contestants today had absolutely no idea at all that they're related - they're either first or second cousins - and were utterly unaware of this until a mutual relative, who knows both families, was listening, filled in the blanks, realised, then contacted them both.....

Just got this from the FB page of one of the two, Tim Hayman.

"So, after myself and Ian Butterfield had slogged it out on Popmaster this morning, I get a phone call off my uncle who’d listened in to tell me that we’re related. Second cousins no less! It’s come as a bit of a shock for both of us but softens my blow of losing to him."
 
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Ooh I love the popmaster. Always listen to it.
Except for when Ken is on holiday and they have some regular mortal covering it for him.
 
Reflexology. Techy and I were chatting about it yesterday, then we saw someone on TV having it, and this morning my Facebook Memories feed reminded me of when I first tried it.

Back then I was still in the throes of grief after a terrible bereavement. The reflexologist had twiddled something which made me feel calmer and stronger about it. It was subtle but positive, like a gear change in a vehicle.
She didn't tell me she was doing that and I didn't know until weeks later. 'Stunned' wasn't the word for it. :omg:
 
Yesterday my colleague and I were having a chat, which began by me telling her that my eldest offspring just got engaged and ended up in the importance of wills. This morning the In House GP announced that we really ought to re-do our wills and to that end he'd been looking up how to go about it - yesterday!
 
Our department has implemented a new system that includes cataloguing all the chemicals so that we know what we've got. The system is a bit glitchy and keeps refusing to use certain usernames, so I'm currently logged in to it under my own username. However, I wanted to log the chemicals under my assistant lab manager's name instead. As it happens we share a first name, and so I was using a pull-down menu to locate her ID. Once I'd put five letters in, the list was reduced to me, her and a chap from downstairs. I was on maybe my fifteenth iteration of adding her name when someone behind me piped up "Hello!" and I was amused to see the owner of the third name on the list popping in to the lab to use a shared piece of equipment. What's the online equivalent of your ears burning?
 
A friend stayed over this week and we'd not seen each other for over a year so over a few drinks we started the "Do you remember when" game. He reminded me of the time we were walking through London (mid 90's I'd guess) with his girlfriend at the time who was telling us about her sister. Her sister was the PA to someone pretty high up in some government department. One time she noticed a desk drawer was open and went to close it but noticed a stack of polaroid photos of her boss and a couple of women engaged in a particularly "dirty" form of sexual activity. She took a quick look at the other photos then closed the drawer. But her boss wasn't the only man in the photos. A very famous English actor was also involved in the, er, fun. She gave us three guesses as to who it might be and of course we couldn't so she said very loudly, it was XXXXXXX XXXXX. And at the exact moment she said his name this actor walked round the corner and literally bumped into us. He looked at us and we all burst out laughing, including him. He asked what we were talking about to mention him and of course we declined. Talk about the cosmic joker

Edit: And of course I'm not going to tell you who the actor was
 
My mum has been (rather half-heartedly) researching her family tree for a few years and just before Christmas she decided to get her DNA tested via Ancestry.com.

She volunteers as a steward at a local theatre and has become friends with another lady volunteer - one thing that they found they had in common was that they both had a Romani grandmother.

When mum got her test results back she found that she and her friend had the same grandmother and are in fact second cousins!

(Also, for a bit of clarification with regards to probability, the theatre is in a different town to where mum lives - around 7 miles away and with a population of well over 100,000, and her friend lives in a different city around 10 miles away.)
 
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bugmum said:
…a new system that includes cataloguing all the chemicals so that we know what we've got.
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And that’s the “new system”, is it? One dreads to think what the “old system” was like:

“I’m almost sure that we had some strychnine. Have you checked the fridge in the staff canteen? No, wait: lt might be in the jar labelled Sugar in the break room…”

maximus otter
 
maximus otter said:
And that’s the “new system”, is it? One dreads to think what the “old system” was like:

“I’m almost sure that we had some strychnine. Have you checked the fridge in the staff canteen? No, wait: lt might be in the jar labelled Sugar in the break room…”

maximus otter
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You joke, sir, but that's not far off the truth!

Let's just say that one of the PIs whom I work with keeps some interesting chemicals in his OFFICE...
 
Spring Heeled Spud said:
Chatting to a friend earlier about terrorist threats (as you do) and he reminded me how often I've come within the proximity of terrorist actions.

In the late 80's I spent a fortnight at the Sahara Beach hotel in Monastir, Tunisia with the ex Mrs SHS and a month or so after we'd been there it was bombed. Then in 2005 I was on my way to a business meeting when the Tavistock Sq bomb went off on 7/11 about a quarter of a mile from me (heard the blast). In 2010 I was in Times Sq in NY when a bomb was left in a car that failed to detonate and in 2015 I drove through the town of Banning, California around 15 minutes before a guy opened fire on random strangers, killing two and injuring several more.

Hoping nothing else happens but people are starting to get a bit wary of travelling with me
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I think you’re a bloody jinx!
 
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