A coincidence story from my cuttings:
I have lived in Cardiff for fifty years although I was born in Felixstow, Suffolk, the home of my father.
We rarely visit Cardiff city centre these days, but one day I suggested to my husband that we should go there by bus (we normally travel everywhere by car).
At the bus stop, two old men were talking about the previous night's television programme on El Alamein. I butted in that my father was killed there.
One of the men asked me my father's name and I gave him the surname, to which he quickly gave my father's first name and said he was his best friend.
We were both shaken.
Not long after our meeting I heard that the man had died.
To think we had been living in the next street for some forty years.
~ Mrs. P Griffiths