Two Amazing Coincidence Meetings

Here's a coincidence from Sue Sherman.

Last year, my husband and I spent a few days in Cumbria.

One morning we decided, on the spur of the moment, to visit an English Heritage site and when we got there we found we were the only people there.

We got talking to the volunteer in the shop, a women who was in her late 60s. When she asked where we were from, we suddenly realised she and I had known each other some 30 years earlier.

She told us how unhappy she had been during that period, and how she subsequently left her husband and turned her life around.

She said that she often thought how much she owed her neighbour in those days, who had given her the strength to move on.

We marvelled at the coincidence of meeting up, exchanged details and left.

A few days later, back home hundreds of miles away, my husband and I attended a World War I history day.

When we got there, we sat down completely at random, next to another attendee whom we had never met.

We got talking and to our complete and utter astonishment found out that he was the next-door neighbour to whom the woman had referred - and to whom she had wanted to say thank you.

~ Sue Sherman.


Mike's other blog Mike's Cornwall is updated every other day 




My wife and I had been away on a long weekend break. On the journey home we decided to take a longer, scenic route which took in the north coast of Cornwall. It got to about 11 o'clock and I saw the sign to the coastal village of Boscastle.

I asked my wife if she'd like to visit there, so we could have a tea or coffee while overlooking the sea. She couldn't make up her mind, but I took the turning anyway. When we reached Boscastle I drove into the only car park.

As it was out of the summer season the very large car park was virtually empty, so we found a spot to the middle of one side. As we parked another car stopped directly behind us about four rows back ...

For full post click: The Coincidence At Boscastle


We were in the Marazion and Mounts Bay area yesterday. The main attraction, in my opinion, being St. Michael's Mount. I find it very magical. Unfortunately it isn't open during the winter months so had to admire from afar.

There are numerous stories linked to St. Michael's Mount such as :

(1) It is said that the Archangel Michael appeared before local fisherman on the mount in the 5th century ...


We went to Cornwall's Eden Project yesterday. It was a funny old day weather-wise, there was hail stones, blue sky and even a few dark clouds, but it was all very pleasant. Today's post, therefore, simply consists of 15 photos snapped as we walked ...


On the outskirts of  St.Austell town there is a very old bridge that is rarely given a second glance. It no longer carries traffic, other than perhaps a few bicycles. This is a shame because the bridge is well over 500 years old 


s the evening shadows fall on Roche Rock, and it's tiny chapel, the wind howls heartily over the heath-land. It is definitely not a place for the faint-hearted. The ghost of an old tin miner casts his shadow with no earthly presence to be seen ... gulp ...

For  full post click : The Mysterious Roche Rock, Cornwall


Robins Comfort The Bereaved

I have published many posts about white feathers and how - for some - they appear to be contact from a loved one who has died. Today a similar theme but this time, instead of white feathers, it is a robin who is the messenger. The short story is from Sarah:

I have been told, when someone dies robins are a sign from the spiritual world that the person is still here. A true tale ...

A little while after my father passed, a robin flew into our house (through the kitchen back door) and upstairs into my bedroom and perched on a photo of my father! 

It was amazing and beautiful. An unforgettable treasured memory. Especially now, as a Robin always seems to appear at significant moments.

Life is wonderfully strange and unfathomable.

~ Sarah

Other Similar Posts:
Was The Robin A Message From His Dead Grandmother
Robins And Butterflies As Messengers From The Dead
White Feathers Following The Loss Of a Loved One and many other white feather posts

Cornwall Photos on "Mike's Cornwall" Blog

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The Number Seven Guardian Angel

Guardian Angel

From my cuttings an amusing 'Lucky 7' story which also includes coincidences. I believe it was first published in the Daily Mail a while back and was from a Bob Hunt, England.

Back in December 2002, I suffered a severe heart attack and was admitted to hospital.

The following month I ended up at London's Royal Brompton for a major operation which, thanks to the staff, was a great success.

The cardiac surgeon told me the procedure would add seven years to my life. It took seven weeks to recover and get back to normal lifestyle. I am now in my last year of a seven year period!

Not long after the op, my eldest son, Stewart said, "Dad, as you have had a bad time this year and have been a perfect patient, I would like to give you a present."

"Such as?" I asked.

He went on, "I'll get your name in every daily newspaper in the UK at the same time."

I was intrigued and asked, "Would I have to murder someone?"

My son laughed and told me to wait and see. He then asked, "When are you and Mum going to Norfolk on holiday this year?"

I told him we'd be going in the first week of July [the seventh month].

Unknown to me, he contacted Great Yarmouth racecourse and paid £1000 to have a race named The Bob Hunt Family And Friends Condition Stakes (Class C), to be held on July 3, 2003, at 3.35pm. On that day, I came down to breakfast at our hotel and picked up a Daily Mail. Looking through the racing section I saw my name!

My son's prediction was true.

When we met up, he said, "Dad, what's your lucky number?"

I explained, "When playing bingo, the caller always says, "On its own, lucky seven."  So as a bingo addict, I suppose that must be my lucky number.

"That's good," he said, and explained that there were seven coincidences:

# It had been seven months since my heart operation.

#The prize money for the horse owner was near on £7,000.

#The race was over seven furlongs.

#There were seven runners in the race.

#The horse I wanted to back, Tarjman, was number seven.

#The horse was drawn into stall number seven.

#Finally the trainer was a Mr. Stewart, the same name as my son't Christian name.

At the racecourse, just before my race, I dashed over with my son to the bookmakers to place our bet (which was now a bigger stake than normal (oh horse number seven).

There was a queue and incredibly, there were seven people in front of us! They were quickly dealt with and the bet was on.

We anxiously watched the race and, yes! our prediction was right, number seven won.

I was then due to present the winning horse's owner with his trophy. With all of the excitement I felt unwell. My son told me not to worry: he and my youngest son would do the honours. I wondered if my guardian angel had a number seven on her wings.

I was in seventh heaven!

~ Bob Hunt, Hertford.

Other Angel Posts:
The Guardian Angels Waiting To be Summoned
The Guardian Angel Who Saved Her From A Car Crash
The Grandmother Who Became Her Granddaughter's Guardian Angel

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Lanzarote And Small Coincidences

I hadn't been experiencing many coincidences / synchronicity moments recently - must have been out of sync with the world or something!

I decided my wife and I needed a break so we went off to Lanzarote to get some proper sunshine and to switch off from computers and the like.

We arrived in the Canary Islands and wondered if we'd made the right choice for our destination. On our first morning we wandered down to the sea front and sat on a public seat. I snapped a photo of the beach and sea and then, for some reason, randomly turned to my right and took a photo of the promenade.

I checked the photo and noticed that the woman in the centre of the photo was wearing a t-shirt with a large '76' on the front.

I have written, probably many times, how 76 or 67 has occurred in my life over and over, almost symbolising good things. So I took the t-shirt to be sign that we had made the right choice.

Then when we started walking my wife said, "Do you realise that our suite number is also a 76 or a 67?"

I hadn't, but our suite was number 4216. So 4+2=6 and 1+6=7. So 67.

But also 4+2+1 =7 and the remaining 6 =76.

So all was well with Lanzarote!

We wandered along the sea front for a few miles and ended up by Arrecife Airport, which is right on the coast. The planes were arriving from the direction of the sea. It was interesting to see them arrive very low above our heads.

My wife said, "I wonder when the next plane will be as I'd like to see it land." At that precise moment a couple on bikes stopped next to us and, out of the blue, the man said to us, "Do you want know when the next plane is landing?"

We said we did. He got out his phone where he had an app and could tell when the next plane was due, and even had a picture as to what it looked like plus where it had come from. I took the photo below of that expected plane.

My wife's question was answered!

After this similar 'little' coincidences / synchros seemed to keep popping up over and over. So the break in Lanzarote turned out to be a positive experience.

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A Message From The Harry Potter Owls

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Sensing The Future, Premonition And Angel 37

Here's something strange. I woke up with the number 37 in my head and a picture of Google (of all things!) I thought no more about it, until later when I checked my Google Plus account. In the top right hand corner of the page was the number of notifications I had that day and it was ... yes 37! Normally I have more than this, so not a typical number I would have guessed.

It also amused me because before I went to bed that night I had been reading Trish & Rob MacGregor's book Sensing the Future! So were my early morning thoughts influenced by what I had read?! Had I sensed the future - who knows.

I thought I'd look on the Internet to see if the number 37 had any significance, and couldn't find much but I did come across a blog called Angel Numbers. It seems 37 has a meaning (according to the writer that is) :

Angel Number 37 is a message from your angels that you are currently travelling along the right ‘life path’, and you are encouraged to persist in this vein. The Ascended Masters are with you giving you guidance and assistance when needed. Source
So that's nice to know!

Other Angel Posts:
The Mystery Of The Angels Of Mons
A Message Of Hope From The Angels
The Guardian Angels Waiting To be Summoned

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There Are No Real Winners In A War

World War 2 Bomb Damage - St. Paul's from Paternoster Row, London
I was going through some old mementos my mother had hoarded away in a case. Amongst the photos, birthday cards and so on was a newspaper from May 8, 1945. This was VE-Day - Victory in Europe. But there are no real winners in wars. One of the articles in the newspaper illustrated this. It was written by Roma Sherris, the heading being 'Mrs.J puts out her bunting'.

Mrs. James is 60. She's small with rather a pointed face, and her eyes are dark and bright like a bird's. By profession she is a charlady.

This is not, you may think, a particularly distinguished or remarkable portrait. But for me - and I have known her a good many years now - Mrs. James is a symbol.

In 1939 Mrs. James three sons joined up [to go to war]. Tom was twenty-five, Dick was twenty-three and John, her 'baby' only nineteen.

Mrs. James was extremely proud and, like every other mother, a little frightened. Not that she ever said anything about that. It would have been 'soft.' And Mrs. James hates anything 'soft or sloppy' as she calls it.

When she came to work she would bring their photographs and presents in a canvass shopping bag. A picture of Tom, the good-looking one, standing outside an estaminet , with his arm round a pretty French girl's waist. A chromium brooch from Dick, with his regimental arms in the middle. And a gleaming apricot cushion-cover with a camel and palm trees stamped on it, from John, in the Navy.

One brilliant summer's morning in 1940 Mrs. James came to work a little late. She looked very small and pale in her old black coat and the hat she always wore, with a dagger hat-pin and black osprey trimmings.

She took a telegram out of the old canvass bag and handed it to me. Tom had been killed, fighting in France.

"That's was, that is," was all she said. Then she started to do the washing up.

A week later she had another telegram. During the evacuation of Dunkirk Dick's ship, bringing him home had a direct hit. He was killed instantaneously.

After that Mrs. James began to work furiously. "Keeps your mind occupied," she said. After her morning's charing she would go to a forces canteen to wash up. During the lunch hour she did her shopping and queued for fish and vegetables for her daughter, who was having a baby.

She seldom talked about Tom and Dick. I don't think she could trust herself and she was so frightened of being 'soft.' But she wore Dick's regimental badge proudly on her shabby coat and a pendant with a picture of the Eiffel Tower on it, which Tom had sent from Paris.

Last year [1944] Mrs. James had her last telegram. John had been drowned.

After that I thought she was going to pieces. She became incredibly thin and nothing would induce her to stop working. She never talked about herself but all the life had gone out of her bright eyes.

Then the flying-bomb raids started and Mrs. James became a different woman. She was really angry about them. All her old fighting spirit came back. And the day her ceilings came down her invective and sarcasm against such an unmilitary weapon of war were a joy to hear.

Her daughter got bombed out and Mrs. James brought her and the baby to live with her. Quite soon after that she started producing photographs of the baby out of her canvass bag when she arrived in the morning.

The other day I passed her house. She was balanced precariously on the top of a ladder fixing bunting over the front door.

"You look very happy Mrs. James," I said.

"I am," she replied. "Well we've got a lot to be thankful for, haven't we? After all. we've won the war."

I wanted to say, "You've won the war, Mrs. James," but I didn't she would have thought I was being 'soft'.

Sometimes we forget what others have done for us.

Other Random Posts:
The First And Last Soldiers Killed Coincidence
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The Magic Of Changelings And Cornwall's Men-an-Tol Stones

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