tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35696825194234988052024-03-11T03:23:32.457+00:0067 Not OutCoincidence, Synchronicity and Other Mysteries of LifeMike Perryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02149847109691591945noreply@blogger.comBlogger2274125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3569682519423498805.post-8589913962782879662023-01-14T15:58:00.001+00:002023-01-14T16:12:28.234+00:00Cornish 15th Century Chapel & Holy Well<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOu6i951SzVroO62CdOZR0DmqscwNTdaMY5fZp7rDMwMxe3xQabFLq4x5_CSqV-LyPCr-GLGqoCEpcwpifWklP07w2DSKI5W6Hx7BsdmJertKzGf_VoMV-B4lfJXLCYTUnvSmN-_j2sZm3Kfb2HS9Yrz30eyxfAh96lIZHtDWuIfBRanqFgdu-0ohqWQ/s1280/P1060441.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOu6i951SzVroO62CdOZR0DmqscwNTdaMY5fZp7rDMwMxe3xQabFLq4x5_CSqV-LyPCr-GLGqoCEpcwpifWklP07w2DSKI5W6Hx7BsdmJertKzGf_VoMV-B4lfJXLCYTUnvSmN-_j2sZm3Kfb2HS9Yrz30eyxfAh96lIZHtDWuIfBRanqFgdu-0ohqWQ/w640-h480/P1060441.JPG" width="600" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">It was a dull, damp day but I decided to walk to Menacuddle, where there is a small chapel and holy well. When I arrived at my destination all was quiet, with no one else about - perfect!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">I snapped a few quick photos as I walked. The White River and the waterfall always fascinate me. The whiteness comes from the local china clay.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">Looking back over the waterfall, to the right of the next photo, a chair can be seen. This is full size and is made of granite. It is known as the Druids Chair and sometimes even as King Arthur's seat.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">The next two photos show the small 'chapel'. Visitors have left flowers.</span><br />
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<br /><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">The Chapel dates back to the 15th century and is now a Grade II listed building. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"> It is aligned east-west with the east wall built against the natural rock face. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">I followed the White River, there was a dampness in the air.</span><br />
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<br /><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">Water ahead but ...</span><br /><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">... be careful as the water can be quite deep.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">I took a different route on the way back but the river came with me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">Green topped water.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">As the rain was determined to continue I was soon looking down on the waterfall once more.</span><br /><br />
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<br /><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">The old bridge on the way out of Menacuddle.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">Below is a newish part of Menacuddle, quite pleasant but a little too neat and organised for my taste. </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-UgzcehVNdVBOjFsi2R5WrEtGVclZJSrZCUa29P4S0mtHprnNG_tkyK01i4rY4wlkifn5Wx7bTeDcSOC0e1wDYdcelrOLh_kC-Dr3EcpyNJY67Pl1sym4rkYYgSj6BCXJ3StYpib-MEoyTjAyt86fiKHYHe79UwtjQBd5B4zATKIsUUUg_PYKXHjNbw/s1280/P1060462.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-UgzcehVNdVBOjFsi2R5WrEtGVclZJSrZCUa29P4S0mtHprnNG_tkyK01i4rY4wlkifn5Wx7bTeDcSOC0e1wDYdcelrOLh_kC-Dr3EcpyNJY67Pl1sym4rkYYgSj6BCXJ3StYpib-MEoyTjAyt86fiKHYHe79UwtjQBd5B4zATKIsUUUg_PYKXHjNbw/w640-h480/P1060462.JPG" width="600" /></a></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">The rain started getting heavier so I made my way homeward bound.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbtswaZixlHV6aXGnAtfxemtQ3oYGqpAJP-tGR-WNcfKCQbJa51uJpZW3ueCPRfNzVVeVEEhsvNtstocJ5XnNW-jiai5jLa_2IGHwFgSYW9PP2U9-m8oVt2RpRVKrIZ6zC12OKnpiIdD-SmSLXtL7jR7MM2ihjBRiRenCD7yWkxAFznk0aTZ2gSthBiQ/s1280/P1060463.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbtswaZixlHV6aXGnAtfxemtQ3oYGqpAJP-tGR-WNcfKCQbJa51uJpZW3ueCPRfNzVVeVEEhsvNtstocJ5XnNW-jiai5jLa_2IGHwFgSYW9PP2U9-m8oVt2RpRVKrIZ6zC12OKnpiIdD-SmSLXtL7jR7MM2ihjBRiRenCD7yWkxAFznk0aTZ2gSthBiQ/w640-h480/P1060463.JPG" width="600" /></a></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">As I walked I did stop when there were glimpses of the White River making it's way to the sea.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit2cH0O1aPyBlUKRVSeVt0NgNI89-Q4cvZ6rno4VFVN_LbnyqVbOIt8EnPmdZvlk2ZXpfal97bCb1E2VCUrC7cyoNZB6op6bA3knh9xBOM_AJEwPdGYoOBVkpmPkZ2OyVvGcJAQLzFVMQ4TqgH-Di08I5ERwYqha-wURNgVDV5zLm_AU30osCFYvp1qQ/s1280/P1060465.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit2cH0O1aPyBlUKRVSeVt0NgNI89-Q4cvZ6rno4VFVN_LbnyqVbOIt8EnPmdZvlk2ZXpfal97bCb1E2VCUrC7cyoNZB6op6bA3knh9xBOM_AJEwPdGYoOBVkpmPkZ2OyVvGcJAQLzFVMQ4TqgH-Di08I5ERwYqha-wURNgVDV5zLm_AU30osCFYvp1qQ/w640-h480/P1060465.JPG" width="600" /></a></div><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">This post taken from my other blog : </span><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://mikescornwall.blogspot.com/">Mike's Cornwall</a><br /></span></div>Mike Perryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02149847109691591945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3569682519423498805.post-73654084239495308192021-04-04T17:14:00.001+01:002021-04-04T17:14:01.609+01:00The Old French Postcard Coincidence From 1900<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcUE7oY1F1Sgoyzo7zp8R6AuIXFL2nfV8Q6A6J3eDslBYS9TXEZMMjpWwU-0nb0eEcIoXaC0UK5_4aFc1ki66sSdEW4EARhrYxAaqjI5HeEhcBXgn9M5oWXae-pHPs5ON6tCKbxXcKSxc/s1600/france-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="1900 Paris Postcard" border="0" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcUE7oY1F1Sgoyzo7zp8R6AuIXFL2nfV8Q6A6J3eDslBYS9TXEZMMjpWwU-0nb0eEcIoXaC0UK5_4aFc1ki66sSdEW4EARhrYxAaqjI5HeEhcBXgn9M5oWXae-pHPs5ON6tCKbxXcKSxc/s400/france-1.jpg" width="600" /></a></div>
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Strange isn't it? One 1900 Paris Postcard, showing the Tribunal de Commerce and the Palais de Justice, comes along - and then, like London buses, another follows straight away behind.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsmcyknT9WlRDtkjhpJPPQPWyKK-TWCD69AtZxlU3GqZWcBhPvNrJS5YAE5KPamPkGXCkg2CsDwXLgBZymlIHcx1ywxxzS3bb8WLK8O1B4fq1VNB_ik3yekLw2T7LlD71QcSd7Q2BHd6Q/s1600/france-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Paris France 1900 Postcard" border="0" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsmcyknT9WlRDtkjhpJPPQPWyKK-TWCD69AtZxlU3GqZWcBhPvNrJS5YAE5KPamPkGXCkg2CsDwXLgBZymlIHcx1ywxxzS3bb8WLK8O1B4fq1VNB_ik3yekLw2T7LlD71QcSd7Q2BHd6Q/s320/france-2.jpg" width="600" /></a></div>
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But what is stranger still is that the second postcard was sent on the 10th of April 1900 to a Henry Arondel and by 'coincidence' the French painter <a align="_blank" href="http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henri_Arondel">Henry Arondel</a> just happened to die on the very same date.
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And I found an up to date photo of the identical scene as the postcards taken from the very same spot. The only difference appears to be that there were many more people on the bridge back in 1900.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMp0TEVPoeiRC1MIjWZAGSWLZmFTy8Wbj-jIYdHR3XTQlCaht9mAJJ2idPbYKrFObTte-TC-uEYrIwhLVfPTyOCQxGWlfRFNOyW91YeIbNvXoWZw-xXLRIaMqNEhw3cJDUxp8wjeeE8To/s1600/france-3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMp0TEVPoeiRC1MIjWZAGSWLZmFTy8Wbj-jIYdHR3XTQlCaht9mAJJ2idPbYKrFObTte-TC-uEYrIwhLVfPTyOCQxGWlfRFNOyW91YeIbNvXoWZw-xXLRIaMqNEhw3cJDUxp8wjeeE8To/s320/france-3.jpg" width="420" /></a></div>
<br />Mike Perryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02149847109691591945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3569682519423498805.post-28182697602616912702021-03-29T17:11:00.002+01:002021-03-29T17:11:37.796+01:00Many Say that the Evil That Men Do Lives After Them<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Dgu2c0EU50LWhrmtrypzTtyxpmcEC5VWLtWr9G-QZVgXUci9YbvP-LvOdcpNlFyryTGYMzKJ5lSiobDckwpVqPrXAsxdfSbM6z38MQYNoTsksMPmxoHy9mMPhV5fxF-LOjwjNKiNUbk/s1600/julius-caesar.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Shakespeare The evil that men do lives after them" border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Dgu2c0EU50LWhrmtrypzTtyxpmcEC5VWLtWr9G-QZVgXUci9YbvP-LvOdcpNlFyryTGYMzKJ5lSiobDckwpVqPrXAsxdfSbM6z38MQYNoTsksMPmxoHy9mMPhV5fxF-LOjwjNKiNUbk/s400/julius-caesar.jpg" width="420" /></a></div>
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Karin and I walked to a car boot sale and got talking about someone we know. As we entered the car park, where the sale was being held, I said, <i>"The evil that men do lives after them. The good is oft interred with their bones."
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzSyQJI3Ja8q1Z-Yns0h7BUvJf5qki9bXSztgp2cUZBlHdtg6xC1DV3VvReEdoRXx5wRtN6G2Yty-bEI_W73B7dBR1lIrlgWMg1W0kCGDX7TQq_HllIOgH_7jOwjAh-XO5-myAzbNocI8/s1600/shakespeare-3.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><img alt="The Shakespeare Secret" border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzSyQJI3Ja8q1Z-Yns0h7BUvJf5qki9bXSztgp2cUZBlHdtg6xC1DV3VvReEdoRXx5wRtN6G2Yty-bEI_W73B7dBR1lIrlgWMg1W0kCGDX7TQq_HllIOgH_7jOwjAh-XO5-myAzbNocI8/s200/shakespeare-3.jpg" width="126" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">
I know, I know, a little pretentious but it seemed to fit what we were talking about - and I was once a bit of a Shakespearean actor. Okay, the last bit is a fib. The only time I've actually been on stage was during my school days. I remember my last role well as I was the Gay Youth. This was at a time when 'gay' only meant being carefree and happy! My friend played the part of the Sombre Youth - deep stuff. We were massive hits - all right, second fib.<br />
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I digress.
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There wasn't much to interest me at the sale but I bought a paperback, titled <i>The Shakespeare Secret</i>, for 20p. As it was likened to the Da Vinci Code on the cover I thought it might be an easy holiday read.
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As I opened the book I saw that on a page prior to the first chapter was the same quote I had said to Karin - see below. This was another reason why I bought the book, the synchronicity bell sounded.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhweHL51BZWmdsrzmbWATpmO_XHHwHarDOnG3Ye3MLuKkreWRCgT1wxLw-9ZJcOmLtkuszgLykeVXrVMp0kxP5oCPDqzZUBpf-LSXpNs6whgE1gNlIoUfATk3xSIQyg8jSAx5Ladrzr5XE/s1600/shakespeare-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Shakespeare quote The evil that men do lives after them" border="0" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhweHL51BZWmdsrzmbWATpmO_XHHwHarDOnG3Ye3MLuKkreWRCgT1wxLw-9ZJcOmLtkuszgLykeVXrVMp0kxP5oCPDqzZUBpf-LSXpNs6whgE1gNlIoUfATk3xSIQyg8jSAx5Ladrzr5XE/s400/shakespeare-1.jpg" width="420" /></a></div>
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When I got home I absentmindedly opened the book and there on page 436 was the very same quote again.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeGFxg5IICnNXcnvEAnEFDFcNEnruCH8nXNwNPHSqPV6dhZ23Ua5yD38IKBLOVRUsvL2BoAgb-F-YbcTjRb9txiOe5zPBO3RVy0Haido369CTrRS4wSfYnZtP8cV_U_U9aBY28AbmmzpE/s1600/shakespeare-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Shakespeare quote" border="0" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeGFxg5IICnNXcnvEAnEFDFcNEnruCH8nXNwNPHSqPV6dhZ23Ua5yD38IKBLOVRUsvL2BoAgb-F-YbcTjRb9txiOe5zPBO3RVy0Haido369CTrRS4wSfYnZtP8cV_U_U9aBY28AbmmzpE/s400/shakespeare-2.jpg" width="420" /></a></div>
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So I guess there must be something relevant for me in these words. Though I'm not sure what. In fact I feel that sometimes it's the bad that is interred, rather than the good.<br />
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It's still mentioned, for instance, how <a href="http://www.67notout.com/2012/10/manipulation-by-powerful-people-like.html">Jimmy Savile</a> (remember him!) raised millions - up to $56 million - for charity and was knighted by the Queen; but let's hope it's never forgotten that he was also a rampant paedophile who molested hundreds of children. This only came to light after his death.
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The Shakespeare quote is from Julius Caesar, I remember the speech as I had to learn it for English Literature exams when at school. <br />
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What I didn't know was that Julius Caesar was performed at the Winter Garden Theatre in New York in 1864. Mark Antony was played by John Wilkes Booth and his brother, Edwin Booth, played Brutus, and their brother Junius Brutus Booth Jr was Cassius. The coincidence about this is that a few months later John Wilkes Booth shot Abraham Lincoln, supposedly with the cry, <i>"Sic semper tyrannis"</i> (thus always to tyrants). This was also attributed to Brutus at Caesar's assassination.
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William Oxberry wrote similar words to Shakespeare: <i>"Because it is a truth and a melancholy truth that the good things which men do are often buried in the ground while their evil deeds are stripped naked, and exposed to the world."</i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPpeEXaSKbkAlbVrw6e8al-7w5L27CKDWH2mmgmWrtfnaAGA6OfauLnctzdMhLGV3kFPXh5Cyaq5rLfO86nFmgaXDz-kJbRrdJ-Jbc7EElmCv7na_vDeAZHzbDBA1WMDPV4h6bmqnG-QI/s1600/shakespeare-4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="William Oxberry quote" border="0" height="107" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPpeEXaSKbkAlbVrw6e8al-7w5L27CKDWH2mmgmWrtfnaAGA6OfauLnctzdMhLGV3kFPXh5Cyaq5rLfO86nFmgaXDz-kJbRrdJ-Jbc7EElmCv7na_vDeAZHzbDBA1WMDPV4h6bmqnG-QI/s400/shakespeare-4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Personally, when I look back on the lives of people close to me who have died all I remember is the good. Some things no doubt are best forgotten.
</span><br /><br />Mike Perryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02149847109691591945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3569682519423498805.post-11789859472553595262021-03-13T15:59:00.000+00:002021-03-13T15:59:29.522+00:00A Short, Snappy Coincidence From Karen.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-33K7cyDa2vw/VgV10Y_fUMI/AAAAAAAAe9g/Ms1kZKk99Vo/s1600/2-women.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Two clip art women" border="0" height="315" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-33K7cyDa2vw/VgV10Y_fUMI/AAAAAAAAe9g/Ms1kZKk99Vo/s400/2-women.jpg" width="420" /></a></div>
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">A short, snappy coincidence from Karen.</span><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><div style="background: rgb(244, 204, 204); margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 15px; padding-left: 15px; padding-right: 15px; padding-top: 15px; padding: 15px;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">My biggest coincidence is from about 20 years ago. My name is Karen and I live in Michigan (USA), and I met another Karen who lived about a block away from us.
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif">We got to talking, and over a few weeks time we realized that we had both lived in the same house while growing up in Minnesota (about 600 miles away).
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Her family lived there before our family did.
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Not sure that it really meant anything, but it was very interesting!</span></span></div><div style="background: rgb(244, 204, 204); margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 15px; padding-left: 15px; padding-right: 15px; padding-top: 15px; padding: 15px;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">~ Karen</span></span></div>
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<a class="addthis_button" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" title="data:post.title" url="data:post.url"><img alt="Bookmark and Share" height="16" src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/v2/lg-share-en.gif" style="border-bottom: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top: 0px; border-width: 0px;" width="125" /></a><script src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/250/addthis_widget.js#username=xa-4b93e53d4044c3ee" type="text/javascript"></script></div>Mike Perryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02149847109691591945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3569682519423498805.post-42328483977149060272021-02-20T16:56:00.005+00:002021-02-20T16:56:54.892+00:00 A Wrong Righted By A Coincidence<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tbHdA8ec72w/VpJnqcu_tbI/AAAAAAAAmOg/Y9-qVF-gErg/s1600/books.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Old books" border="0" height="450" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tbHdA8ec72w/VpJnqcu_tbI/AAAAAAAAmOg/Y9-qVF-gErg/s400/books.jpg" width="600" /></a></div>
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">A coincidence sent to me by <em>Paul</em> which illustrates how wrongs sometimes can be righted - with the helping hand of a coincidence.</span><br />
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<div style="background: rgb(244, 204, 204); margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 15px; padding-left: 15px; padding-right: 15px; padding-top: 15px; padding: 15px;">
<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">"I had a girlfriend, Lisa, during the summer between Freshman and Sophomore year in college. I went back to college, then returned for Thanksgiving and had one more date with her. Then I broke up with her <i>via a letter</i> in December (a huge mistake, but that's another story).</span><br />
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif">I was back in St. Louis 12 years later. I visited a book store in a mall about six miles from my parents' home. I visited the book store perhaps once every five years. When I went to stand in line to pay, there was Lisa, right in front of me! I asked her how often she visited the book store, which was even further from her home. She said that she had never been there before. We had dinner that evening and I apologized for breaking up with her so impersonally."</span><br />
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif">~ Paul</span></span></div>
<span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span><br /><script src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/250/addthis_widget.js#username=xa-4b93e53d4044c3ee" type="text/javascript"></script>Mike Perryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02149847109691591945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3569682519423498805.post-7005458032793404422021-02-17T12:30:00.001+00:002021-02-17T12:30:00.347+00:00Messages From The Dead Via White Doves, White Feathers And Butterflies<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vcA7aCbkSXk/VJCaFgl9EWI/AAAAAAAATec/KHuqOeDhX4E/s1600/white-dove.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="White dove" border="0" height="420" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vcA7aCbkSXk/VJCaFgl9EWI/AAAAAAAATec/KHuqOeDhX4E/s1600/white-dove.jpg" width="420" /></a></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">
Following on from all of those other posts about white feathers, white doves and butterflies as witnessed following a loved one departing this world, here are two more readers experiences. Both wish to remain anonymous.</span><br />
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<div style="background: rgb(244, 204, 204); margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 15px; padding-left: 15px; padding-right: 15px; padding-top: 15px; padding: 15px;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">
"I lost my mum in 2007, I was with her when she passed away.
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A few days later there was a gorgeous white feather on my doorstep. Unsure, I asked my neighbour what this could mean. She told me I had been visited by an angel. The feather is still in my Bible to this day. It's not a seagull feather, nor any other known bird in this area. It's a beautiful white downy fluffy feather and I still have it! xx"</span></div>
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"A few years ago my life changed forever. My husband showed up at my office with tears streaming down his face telling me my brother passed away. I remember him driving me home. We sat outside taking it all in, and waiting on phone calls from other family members to make driving/flying arrangements to his town (10 hours away).<br />
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I was beyond devastation when a beautiful butterfly flew directly in between us. It hovered for probably a whole minute, circled around my head and then circled around my husband's head and then flew away.<br />
<br />
We were actually crying and laughing, as this was clearly miraculous.<br />
<br />
On our very long drive to the funeral I took with me my books on Angels and connecting with loved ones who have passed away.<br />
<br />While engrossed in my book, a few hours into the trip, I was startled by the loudest sound I've ever heard. Something slammed into the windshield - we were travelling at 70 miles an hour.<br />
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I asked my husband, "What was that?"<br />
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He said (as we were pulling off the highway into a gas station), "A white dove came out of nowhere and hit our windshield!"<br />
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The craziest part is it left no blood, no feathers, just this white powder that made the most beautiful image of a perfect angel wing. It was as fine as flour, dusted lightly on our windshield. I actually took my finger and touched it in amazement.<br />
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Has anyone else ever been hit by a dove? I'd like to think the dove didn't die but, at 70 mph, how could it not."
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<br />Mike Perryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02149847109691591945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3569682519423498805.post-21044458261066369352021-02-13T16:33:00.000+00:002021-02-13T16:33:21.032+00:00The Coincidence That The House He Bought Was Built By His Ancestor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wMrTstMT83I/VI7bX7CWcFI/AAAAAAAATb8/4d44pdcTySA/s1600/Rendham.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wMrTstMT83I/VI7bX7CWcFI/AAAAAAAATb8/4d44pdcTySA/s1600/Rendham.jpg" width="259" /></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">
I think today's coincidence or synchronicity story is quite remarkable and on several layers. See what you think.<br />
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Douglas Hunter lived in Australia but his family had been in New Zealand for at least five generations. He met and fell in love with Ros, a girl from England. They became partners and consequently had two children.<br />
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When Ros was pregnant, with their third child, the couple decided they would move to England. They agreed to settle somewhere in Suffolk, near to where Ros's parents lived.<br />
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Ros went on ahead to look for somewhere they could call home. One of the places she saw was an old disused chapel. It was for sale and was ripe for conversion into a family home. The chapel was in Rendham near to Aldeburgh in their chosen county of Suffolk.<br />
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Ros said, "I was pregnant and jet lagged but I thought it was wonderful. I loved the pillars inside and managed to ignore the problems."<br />
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The deal was done to buy the property and Douglas duly arrived from Australia to see what she had bought. He viewed the enormous dilapidated building with holes in the roof, broken windows and rows of pews. He looked at Ros and said one word, "Why?"<br />
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Then came what Douglas describes as a <i>spooky surprise</i>.<br /></span>
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His mother came over from New Zealand for a visit and was looking through some of the very old documents that had been left in the chapel and made an amazing discovery. She found that the chapel was built with money from one of their ancestors!<br />
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As Douglas emphasised, "I didn't know any family connection with Suffolk."<br />
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</span><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vVeXFEQuVVo/VI7YhUh6XaI/AAAAAAAATbw/3kyxNUqbCo4/s1600/Watts.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vVeXFEQuVVo/VI7YhUh6XaI/AAAAAAAATbw/3kyxNUqbCo4/s1600/Watts.jpg" width="153" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">Isaac Watts</span></td></tr>
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His ancestor a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isaac_Watts">Dr Isaac Watts</a> was a wealthy man who was a prolific hymn writer including 'Joy To The World' and ' Our God Our Help In Ages Past'.<br />
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The chapel was built back in 1750s from a donation made by Dr Watts and has quite a history. John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, made visits in the 18th century. The building was finally deconsecrated in 1979 as the congregation gradually diminished in size.<br />
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Douglas and Ros converted the chapel into a wonderful five bedroom family home in which to bring up their children.<br />
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How strange that Douglas should meet Ros, a girl from Suffolk - where there just happened to be a link to his ancestors. Some links appear never to be broken.</span><br />Mike Perryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02149847109691591945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3569682519423498805.post-13607186884330773472021-01-16T15:02:00.000+00:002021-01-16T15:02:12.253+00:00A Love Letter Received From Beyond the Grave<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-05UncWilsoY/VmV-JZdTepI/AAAAAAAAjz4/ezdJ34Ho1b4/s1600/love-letters.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Love letters" border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-05UncWilsoY/VmV-JZdTepI/AAAAAAAAjz4/ezdJ34Ho1b4/s400/love-letters.jpg" width="600" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">A story today from a widow who wishes to remain anonymous. She feels that the letter concerned was received from beyond the grave, for want of a better expression. Perhaps you have a different opinion. Here's her story ...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">"A few weeks after my husband died, my daughter called to visit me.</span><br />
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif">We sat together, looking through some photos. I found myself saying: "The one thing I regret is that your father never sent me a love letter. Other widows have letters, sometimes tied up with ribbon, but I have nothing like that."</span><br />
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Just at that precise second, both my daughter and I gave an involuntary. "Oh!" because right before our eyes was an envelope sitting on top of the photographs.</span><br />
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif">We did not see it actually materialise, but were certain it had not been there before.</span><br />
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif">I picked it up. It was dated 43 years previously and was addressed to me in my maiden name. I took the letter out of the envelope. It was indeed a love letter, professing love, 'body and soul' for ever.</span><br />
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif">I cannot remember ever receiving this letter."</span></span></div>
<span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span><br />Mike Perryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02149847109691591945noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3569682519423498805.post-53045946724459331932021-01-01T00:30:00.001+00:002021-01-01T00:30:02.906+00:00Comforting Messages From Dead Loved Ones<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DZo5b9GlFBI/VoKi53Z_xEI/AAAAAAAAlQ8/VN3r9BXPI-U/s1600/bright-light.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Light beyond brilliance" border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DZo5b9GlFBI/VoKi53Z_xEI/AAAAAAAAlQ8/VN3r9BXPI-U/s400/bright-light.jpg" width="600" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">Messages from the dead, can this in any way be possible? Many think so though, in fairness, many completely disagree. Here are a couple of examples, can they possibly be messages from beyond the grave?
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<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">My late grandfather was such a lovely, gentle, kind man.</span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8HBbJcznL9s/VoKlJVonfQI/AAAAAAAAlRU/qXeMFDBQVAw/s1600/man.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8HBbJcznL9s/VoKlJVonfQI/AAAAAAAAlRU/qXeMFDBQVAw/s1600/man.jpg" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">When he passed on in 1991, I was devastated. For some inexplicable reason I instinctively switched on every light in the house for the first few nights afterwards.</span><br />
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif">One night, while sitting by the fire, I glanced up and there in front of me was the impression of light - the brilliance way beyond any word I can speak or write.</span><br />
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif">I immediately thought: "Grandad!" And then it was gone. Without even thinking I switched off all the 'extra' lights and felt the most amazing feeling of peace.</span><br />
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif">~ Annette Borril</span></span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FoRjSLWyXVY/VoKjyV5DD0I/AAAAAAAAlRI/9f55XBjU2PI/s1600/answerphone.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FoRjSLWyXVY/VoKjyV5DD0I/AAAAAAAAlRI/9f55XBjU2PI/s200/answerphone.jpg" width="188" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">My husband, Wyn, died on July 5, ten weeks short of our golden wedding anniversary. On returning home late one morning, I found a message had been left on my answer phone. The message was very short, it said: "How are you?" The voice was that of my dead husband.</span><br />
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif">The message is still saved on the answer phone, and friends and colleagues of my husband's confirmed - without me prompting - that it is his voice.</span><br />
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif">~ Jackie Roberts</span></span></div>
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Mike Perryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02149847109691591945noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3569682519423498805.post-63318886733486175332020-12-05T17:06:00.006+00:002020-12-05T17:14:50.493+00:00The True Story Of The Fanny Scratching Ghost Of Cock Lane<p><br /></p><div class="post-header" style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.6; margin: 0px 0px 1em;"><div class="post-header-line-1"></div></div><blockquote><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1418693467211030457" itemprop="description articleBody" style="line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 590px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ySnjPjpF4F0/VIl82sN2xSI/AAAAAAAATVY/vQS_9KMUfmM/s1600/cock-lane-3.jpg" style="color: #436590; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" height="492" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ySnjPjpF4F0/VIl82sN2xSI/AAAAAAAATVY/vQS_9KMUfmM/s1600/cock-lane-3.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="420" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 10.4px;">1800s Illustration of where 'Scratching Fanny' was heard in Cock Lane</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">The story of the Cock Lane Ghost began back in 1760, in a house near to London's famous Smithfield market and just along from St Paul's Cathedral. Cock Lane still exists today.</span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #666666; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jZ0zV71usJI/VInIEbezfxI/AAAAAAAATWU/59bm1uQzZLY/s1600/cock-lane.jpg" style="color: #436590; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><img alt="Map showing Cock Lane, London" border="0" height="319" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jZ0zV71usJI/VInIEbezfxI/AAAAAAAATWU/59bm1uQzZLY/s1600/cock-lane.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="420" /></a></div><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span>William Kent, a stockbroker, rented a house from the parish clerk, Richard Parsons. The arrangement was fine until 1762 when Kent's wife died and he began to court her sister, Fanny, who soon became his 'housekeeper'.</span><br /><br /><span>Miss Fanny and Mr Kent sealed their love by making wills and naming each other as beneficiaries. Shortly following this Kent and Parsons fell out following a disagreement over money, so Kent moved out of the property and began legal proceedings against Parsons. As this turmoil was happening Fanny fell sick and died of smallpox.</span><br /><br /><span>With Fanny dead Parsons hatched a cunning plan. He concocted a story saying that Kent had murdered Fanny to get his hands on the inheritance.</span><br /><br /><span>Now comes the ghostly bit, which became known as Scratching Fanny.</span><br /><br /><span>Parsons made claims that Fanny was now haunting the house in Cock Lane. He alleged that Fanny had come back as a ghost. What's more he said that she had contacted his 12 year old daughter, Elizabeth. Fanny told her that Kent had poisoned her.</span><br /></span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8UmfN-hoRt-hg2JcNxLeQPRJnFFmnFxLQH4waj4gi_8gEC9DPWEfqIYm4Q1z7ZoTvzNyvneU0ud9ifnAgsUwWnEcAOt60ehrDsc7o3G6i_1SrI-H3jSHMsVVr9C7C2gCru0-YvZ_bVmxy/s1600/cock-lane-4.jpg" style="color: #436590; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration-line: none;"><img alt="The room where the scratching fanny ghost was heard" border="0" height="327" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8UmfN-hoRt-hg2JcNxLeQPRJnFFmnFxLQH4waj4gi_8gEC9DPWEfqIYm4Q1z7ZoTvzNyvneU0ud9ifnAgsUwWnEcAOt60ehrDsc7o3G6i_1SrI-H3jSHMsVVr9C7C2gCru0-YvZ_bVmxy/s1600/cock-lane-4.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="420" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 10.4px;">The room where Scratching Fanny was heard</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span>The story spread like wildfire and seance's were held in the house. At one time Parsons invited a committee of 20 men to witness Fanny's ghost possessing his young daughter. Elizabeth, under the influence of Fanny, declared once again that she had been poisoned and that the only way she could rest would be if Kent were hanged.</span><br /><br /><span>This got the house more publicity and curious people wanted to hear Fanny Scratching. So much so, that Parsons began charging people to come inside to hear the ghostly sounds of knocking and scratching.</span></span><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Azvfd9IyHhQ/VInNB16XMTI/AAAAAAAATWs/kC10f3AtJPE/s1600/cock-lane-2.jpg" style="color: #436590; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration-line: none;"><img alt="Cock Lane, London sign" border="0" height="331" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Azvfd9IyHhQ/VInNB16XMTI/AAAAAAAATWs/kC10f3AtJPE/s1600/cock-lane-2.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="420" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 10.4px;">Cock Lane sign today</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span>Of course there are always doubters about anything psychic, even back in the 1760s, so an investigation was started. One member of the investigative team being none other than </span><a href="http://www.drjohnsonshouse.org/johnson.html" style="color: #436590; text-decoration-line: none;">Dr Samuel Johnson</a><span>. He wrote the following about his experience of a seance held in the Cock Lane house (it's quite long and in the language of the time.)</span></span><br /><br /><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin: 0px; padding: 15px;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="background-color: #f4cccc; color: #666666; float: right; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 1em; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NoTq8_ckudE/VInMK9t3aII/AAAAAAAATWk/gbNNhNfsbbo/s1600/dr.johnson.jpg" style="clear: right; color: #436590; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration-line: none;"><img alt="Dr Samuel Johnson" border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NoTq8_ckudE/VInMK9t3aII/AAAAAAAATWk/gbNNhNfsbbo/s1600/dr.johnson.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="272" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 10.4px; text-align: center;">Dr.Samuel Johnson (1709-1784)</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">"</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">On the night of the 1st of February many gentlemen, eminent for their rank and character were, by the invitation of the Reverend Mr. Aldrich, of Clerkenwell, assembled at his house, for the examination of the noises supposed to be made by a departed spirit, for the detection of some enormous crime.<br /><br />About ten at night the gentlemen met in the chamber in which the girl, supposed to be disturbed by a spirit, had, with proper caution, been put to bed by several ladies. They sat rather more than an hour, and hearing nothing, went down stairs, when they interrogated the father of the girl, who denied, in the strongest terms, any knowledge or belief of fraud.<br /><br />The supposed spirit had before publicly promised, by an affirmative knock, that it would attend one of the gentlemen into the vault under the Church of St. John, Clerkenwell, where the body is deposited, and give a token of her presence there, by a knock upon her coffin; it was therefore determined to make this trial of the existence or veracity of the supposed spirit.<br /><br />While they were enquiring and deliberating, they were summoned into the girl's chamber by some ladies who were near her bed, and who had heard knocks and scratches. When the gentlemen entered, the girl declared that she felt the spirit like a mouse upon her back, and was required to hold her hands out of bed. From that time, though the spirit was very solemnly required to manifest its existence by appearance, by impression on the hand or body of any present, by scratches, knocks, or any other agency, no evidence of any preter-natural power was exhibited.<br /><br />The spirit was then very seriously advertised that the person to whom the promise was made of striking the coffin, was then about to visit the vault, and that the performance of the promise was then claimed. The company at one o'clock went into the church, and the gentleman to whom the promise was made, went with another into the vault. The spirit was solemnly required to perform its promise, but nothing more than silence ensued: the person supposed to be accused by the spirit, then went down with several others, but no effect was perceived.<br /><br />Upon their return they examined the girl, but could draw no confession from her. Between two and three she desired and was permitted to go home with her father. It is, therefore, the opinion of the whole assembly, that the child has some art of making or counterfeiting a particular noise, and that there is no agency of any higher cause."<br /><br />~ Samuel Johnson (1762)</span></span></div><span style="background-color: white;"><br /><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">The findings of the investigation meant that Parsons was put on trial for fraud - remember he had been charging people to visit the house and attend seances there. He was found guilty and sentenced to two years in prison.</span></span></div></blockquote>Mike Perryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02149847109691591945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3569682519423498805.post-32570803927691735192020-11-30T15:06:00.003+00:002020-11-30T15:06:37.031+00:00Coincidence Of The First Nuclear Submarine To Execute A Submerged Circumnavigation Of The Earth<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; margin: 20px 0px 0px; position: relative;"><br /></h3><div class="post-header" style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.6; margin: 0px 0px 1em;"><div class="post-header-line-1"></div></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-5059428306884326938" itemprop="description articleBody" style="line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 590px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3DmjQANJ2bI/VenDQbm13cI/AAAAAAAAeAI/BwgIwCb45SA/s1600/triton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #436590; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration-line: none;"><img alt="USS Triton submarine SSRN/SSN-586" border="0" height="391" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3DmjQANJ2bI/VenDQbm13cI/AAAAAAAAeAI/BwgIwCb45SA/s400/triton.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="420" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 10.4px;">USS Triton submarine SSRN/SSN-586</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">USS Triton (SSRN/SSN-586), a United States Navy nuclear submarine, was the first vessel to execute a submerged circumnavigation of the Earth - Operation Sandblast - doing so in early 1960, under the command of Captain Edward L. "Ned" Beach, Jr.<br /><br />There is a coincidence attached to the circumnavigation.<br /><br />As the submarine was making it's submerged journey it raised periscope in the Philippines' Magellan Bay. On doing so Captain Beach found himself staring into the eyes of a startled fisherman in a canoe!<br /><br />For a long time, in the 1960s, it was wondered, "Who was the fisherman?" The <i>National Geographic Magazine</i> actually managed to trace him on Mactan island off Cebu. He was, at the time, a 19 year old called Rufino Baring.<br /><br />Rufino told of how he was terrified when the <i>eye</i> of the huge nuclear submarine unexpectedly broke water and then vanished. He said, <i>"I was tired and thought I was seeing things. But when it came back a second time, I thought it was part of a very big monster and I was frightened. I tried to get away as fast as I could because it started to move very fast."</i><br /><br />Rufino paddled frantically for home but didn't tell his family about what he had seen.<br /><br />The incident was described by Captain Beach in his log:</span><br /><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin: 0px; padding: 15px;"><div class="separator" style="background-color: #f4cccc; clear: both; color: #666666; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_ZnVTzKzRAs/VenHm99H5kI/AAAAAAAAeAU/K4PwVWiwq-o/s1600/USS-triton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; color: #436590; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_ZnVTzKzRAs/VenHm99H5kI/AAAAAAAAeAU/K4PwVWiwq-o/s320/USS-triton.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="241" /></span></a></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #3d85c6; font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">"Upon raising the periscope. I am looking right into the eyes of a young man in a small canoe, close alongside. Perhaps he has detected the dark bulk of our hull in the relatively clear waters of the bay ...<br /><br />A few seconds later I motion for the scope to be raised once more. Sure enough there is our friend, impassively leaning on his gunwales and staring right at the periscope as it rises barely two inches out of the water.<br /><br />It's a ludicrous situation: On the one hand an impassive Asian, staring with curious concentration at an unusual object in the water; on the other a US Navy Officer, equipped with all the technical devices money can procure, looking back with equally studied concentration. On one end of the periscope, an outrigger canoe propelled by the brawny arms of its builder; on the other end a $100,000,000 submarine, the newest, biggest, most powerful in the world, on a history-making cruise.<br /><br />What an abyss - what centuries of scientific development lie between him and me!"</span></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">When Rufino was eventually traced he thought he must have committed some sort of crime and was very relieved to be told otherwise.<br /><br />He was unaware that his photo had been taken through Triton's periscope. When he was told that he was the only person who saw Triton on it's voyage, the information was greeted simply with an embarrassed smile.<br /><br />And now for an uncanny coincidence about this story.<br /><br />In making the voyage, in early 1960, Triton began and ended the circumnavigation from St Peter and St Paul Rocks off Brazil.<br /><br /></span></div><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">Rufino, frightened after his experience, repainted his canoe and added two saints' names to protect it from further meetings with sea monsters. The apostles' names he chose were: St Peter and St Paul!</span></span> </p>Mike Perryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02149847109691591945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3569682519423498805.post-21924707601789526742020-11-24T16:42:00.000+00:002020-11-24T16:42:27.555+00:00The Coincidence Of Meeting 40 Years Later While On Holiday<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b9b9qEwS91M/VpfM9PEhEWI/AAAAAAAAmgs/JQuuL54zqtM/s1600/morris-minor-van.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Morris Minor Van" border="0" height="350" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b9b9qEwS91M/VpfM9PEhEWI/AAAAAAAAmgs/JQuuL54zqtM/w640-h350/morris-minor-van.jpg" width="600" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Morris Van</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">A coincidence story today - there seem to be a lot about at the moment! This one is from Eric Grant in England : </span><br /></span>
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<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 15px; padding-left: 15px; padding-right: 15px; padding-top: 15px; padding: 15px;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">My wife and I decided to have a real holiday in 1958, the first since we married.</span><br />
<span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span>
<span face="Verdana, sans-serif">We'd go in our Morris Minor van-with-windows camping for two weeks, through France, Switzerland and Italy (a 4 ft mattress fit snug in the back!).</span><br />
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif">The first night we'd booked a hotel in Abbevilla and after dinner walked down the main shopping street. On the opposite pavement we saw someone who looked remarkably like a solicitor friend from home, Geoff Meopham. We decided it couldn't possibly be him, as he didn't appear to recognise us.</span><br />
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Six weeks later, buying petrol, in followed Geoff, and I told him he had a 'double' in France. "You fool," he said, "that was me." Oh dear!</span><br />
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Exactly 40 years later, having lunch in Lanzarote, with our feet dangling in the swimming pool water, in came a man who did look a bit like our old friend (whom we hadn't seen for decades due to moving), though he looked much older.</span>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QeoM9sR6J70/VpfPbDjIZHI/AAAAAAAAmg8/F0mzyWtIHTw/s1600/clip%2Bart.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><img alt="Clipart two people meeting" border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QeoM9sR6J70/VpfPbDjIZHI/AAAAAAAAmg8/F0mzyWtIHTw/s1600/clip%2Bart.jpg" /></span></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Without hesitation I rushed over to him and said, "You look remarkably like an old friend, Geoff Meopham from Billericay. This happened 40 years ago and we didn't approach you then, so thought I would now!"</span><br />
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif">He said, "I'm glad you did, Eric. I've lost my wife so I'm here to try and recuperate. Nice to have someone to talk to for a week!"</span><br />
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif">What a reunion!</span><br />
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif">~ Eric Grant</span></span></div>
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Mike Perryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02149847109691591945noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3569682519423498805.post-90263571455052350052020-11-14T15:35:00.000+00:002020-11-14T15:35:22.591+00:00Clairvoyant Predicted Her Own Imminent Death<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-I3o-pTiSJRs/X6_050halHI/AAAAAAABgAk/xHtrVXtKRS4AQyLys3teUKw3ZXvKD22-ACLcBGAsYHQ/image.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="284" data-original-width="500" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-I3o-pTiSJRs/X6_050halHI/AAAAAAABgAk/xHtrVXtKRS4AQyLys3teUKw3ZXvKD22-ACLcBGAsYHQ/image.png" width="500" /></a></div><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-size: 13px;"><p><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></p></span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;"><span>N</span><span>ell St. John Montague was one of London's best known society clairvoyants in the 1940s. She is said to have made many accurate predictions. Friends and associates therefore become concerned when she revealed what would be her own imminent death.</span></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">She told them, "I saw a fiery streak. Then a red mist spread over everything ..."</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">She explained, her long experience had taught her that red mists always meant one thing: "Blood, a violent death. A fiery streak" </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">A few weeks following her prediction a Nazi </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">buzz bomb</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;"> (this was during World War 2) struck her London Home. This answered the question as to what the 'fiery streak' actually was. She had accurately predicted her death.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">Prior to her death illustrious clients included the former Queen Victoria of Spain and Lady Clarisbrook - whose husband was a brother of Britain's Queen at the time. Victoria's first consultation with Miss Montague was one she wouldn't forget.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">She warned Victoria that her wedding day would be the occasion of a number of violent deaths. The prediction was stunningly fulfilled.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">As the bridal party drove away from the church a bouquet containing a bomb, was tossed at the royal carriage. Both the King and Queen escaped injury, but 24 other people were killed and 80 were wounded.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">It is also reported that someone handed her an example of Hitler's handwriting. She, not knowing whose it was, said, "Whoever wrote that is as mad as a hatter."</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">There are many other predictions that proved accurate. In 1944 she forecast that Lord Louis Mountbatten "... will some day find a watery grave." This was shown in various newspapers in November of 1944.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">The prediction took a long time to materialise, but in 1979 Lord Mountbatten went lobster potting in a wooden boat, moored in the harbour at Mullaghmore. An IRA member slipped into the boat and planted a radio-controlled bomb. Just a few hundred yards from the shore the bomb was detonated. Mountbatten was killed.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">Some people do appear to have 'the gift'.</span></span><p></p><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;"><i>Thank you for visiting my blog. I also have another blog: <a href="https://mikescornwall.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Mike's Cornwall</a></i></span></span></div>Mike Perryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02149847109691591945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3569682519423498805.post-29353344041578964642020-10-23T14:26:00.004+01:002020-10-23T14:26:34.851+01:00It's a Small World Coincidence<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1ip74DqrKEE/X5LDQ4uKv2I/AAAAAAABf0A/SB9o9AXlCV45eBa7ohjH9Ghm4QGueXmJgCLcBGAsYHQ/s576/flag.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="336" data-original-width="576" height="234" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1ip74DqrKEE/X5LDQ4uKv2I/AAAAAAABf0A/SB9o9AXlCV45eBa7ohjH9Ghm4QGueXmJgCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h234/flag.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><i>Quite remarkable coincidences I noticed in an article in the Daily Mail newspaper. The story was from S. Turner, Kent, England.</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">"Driving from Sydney to Adelaide, while on holiday in Australia, we had a number of amazing coincidences.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">On an overnight stop-off at a small town, we were surprised to see someone who is a regular at our local pub.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">In another town, we ran into an old work colleague from London whom we hadn't seen for 20 years or more.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">Then, finally in a shopping mall food court in Adelaide, who should be sitting at a nearby table but a man who caught the same train as me each morning on our commute into London. He and his wife were on a cruise and has only just arrived in Adelaide that day. Small world indeed!"</span></p>Mike Perryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02149847109691591945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3569682519423498805.post-3164997803235585182020-10-19T16:58:00.001+01:002020-10-19T17:01:43.140+01:00When Time Stood Still and We Were Saved From Falling<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8NOhKfzor-s/X420zuapyTI/AAAAAAABfxQ/N21XWIDlp8sifQQfWtrq04ByY1rdjPcCgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1099/clock.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1099" data-original-width="1071" height="600" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8NOhKfzor-s/X420zuapyTI/AAAAAAABfxQ/N21XWIDlp8sifQQfWtrq04ByY1rdjPcCgCLcBGAsYHQ/w624-h640/clock.png" width="600" /></a></div><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">My wife and I were on a break away and went for a walk. The route details were on a leaflet. It was about five miles through woods and across fields. Sounded fine for a mild afternoon.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">We set off and soon got into our stride, not another soul anywhere to be seen - so perfect for walking and forgetting the rest of the world. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">For a while the pathway was alongside a small river, which we then had to cross using some stepping stones, and make our way up the side of the valley via some uneven stone steps. A reasonable climb and shouldn't have been any problem.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">We were nearly to the top when my wife must have missed the step or slipped on the uneven rocks - whatever - she started to fall backwards. I was a couple of steps behind her ... it was then that time stood still!</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">Thoughts started flowing through my mind ...</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">"When my wife hits me I will fall backwards as well ... I'll hit my head on the rocks below. She will land on top of me but will still have a nasty fall ... what should I do for the best ... "</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">I was working out what to do and the consequences, as my wife was falling backwards so it can only have been a second, if that. I felt my back foot being lowered to the step below and, goodness knows how, I caught her! I didn't fall and neither of us were hurt.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">The point is that time did stand still, I can't possibly have had all of those thoughts in a normal, every day, time frame. So, "What is time?"</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">We got to the top of the steps and looked down. My wife was shaken and in tears thinking of what might have happened and said words to the effect that our Guardian Angel must have been looking after us. I still can't explain how I caught her.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">I've only experienced that sort of thing once. Oh, other than when I was riding a donkey backwards - but that's another story!</span></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">So can time stand still?</span></span></p>Mike Perryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02149847109691591945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3569682519423498805.post-35673885083331934582020-10-05T17:16:00.003+01:002020-10-05T17:16:18.936+01:00The Creature: Half Human, Half Beast With Great Bat-Like Wings<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YH3xJciz4is/VQlbXhNTzZI/AAAAAAAAXAE/RFt2OekswI8/s1600/van-meter.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Van Meter, Iowa, 1903" border="0" height="482" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YH3xJciz4is/VQlbXhNTzZI/AAAAAAAAXAE/RFt2OekswI8/w640-h482/van-meter.jpg" width="600" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption">Van Meter, Iowa, USA 1903<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">I was flitting through the channels on my television the other night and came across a programme that was describing a monster seen in Van Meter, Iowa in the early 1900s. I'd missed most of the details so I did a bit of research this morning. </span><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">I found a report in <i>The Evening News</i> of October 12, 1903 titled <b>Half Human, Half Beast, With Great Bat-Like Wings</b>. <br /><br />Here's the report - I always like the way they worded newspapers back then. </span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white;">The town of Van Meter, conta1ning, 1000 </span><span style="background-color: white;">persons is terribly wrought up by what is described as a horrible monster. Every man, woman and child in the town is in a state of terror, and fully half of them fail to close their eyes in slumber except in broad daylight. </span></span><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 15px; padding-left: 15px; padding-right: 15px; padding-top: 15px; padding: 15px;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><br />Friday night while the population was keeping the dreadful vigil every electric light in the city was kept burning to satisfy the most timid. <br /><br />The monster put in its appearance Monday night. U.S Griffith, an implement dealer, drove into town at 1 a.m. and saw what seemed to be an electric searchlight on Maher & Grigg's store. While he gazed it sailed across to another building and then disappeared. <br /><br />His story was not believed the next day. But the following night Dr. A.C Olcott, who sleeps in his office on the principal street, was awakened by a bright light shining in his face. <br /><br />He grabbed a shotgun and ran outside the building where he saw a monster, seemingly half human and half beast, with great bat-like wings. A dazzling light that fairly blinded him came from a blunt, horn-like protuberance in the middle of the animal's forehead and it gave off a stupefying odour that almost overcome him. <br /><br />The doctor discharged his weapon and fled into his office, barring doors and windows, and remained there in abject terror until next morning. <br /><br />Peter Dunn, cashier in the only bank in town, fearing bank robbers, loaded a repeating shotgun with shells filled with buckshot, and prepared to guard his funds next night. At 2p.m he was blinded by the presence of a light of great intensity. <br /><br />Eventually he recovered his senses sufficiently to distinguish the monster and fired through the window. The plate glass and sash were torn out and the monster disappeared. Next morning imprints of great three-toes feet were discernible in the soft earth. <br /><br />That night Dr. O.V White saw the monster climbing down a telephone pole, using a beak much in the manner of a parrot. As it struck the ground it seemed to travel in leaps, like a kangaroo, using it's huge featherless wings to assist. It gave off no light. He fired at it and he believed he wounded it. The shot was followed by an overpowering odour. Sidney Gregg attracted by the shot, saw the monster fly away. <br /><br />But the climax came Friday night. The whole town was aroused by this time. Professor Martin, principal of the schools, decided that from the description it was an <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antediluvian">antedeluvian</a> animal. <br /><br />Shortly after midnight J.L Platt, foreman of the brick plant, heard a peculiar sound in an abandoned coal mine, and as the men had reported a similar sound before, a body of volunteers started an investigation. Presently the monster emerged from the shaft, accompanied by a smaller one. A score of shots were fired without effect. <br /><br />The whole town was aroused and a vigil maintained the rest of the night, but without result until just at dawn, when the two monsters returned and disappeared down the shaft. <br /><br />A watch was kept again last night, but without result. The town geniuses are devising various plans to capture the monsters. </span></span></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><b>Note:</b> The coal mine is no longer in existence.</span></div>Mike Perryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02149847109691591945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3569682519423498805.post-81827860734497131752020-10-02T15:26:00.004+01:002020-10-02T15:26:58.944+01:00Stepping Through A Time Slip And Into Her Previous Life<div class="separator"><div class="separator" style="clear: center; float: center; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="321" data-original-width="400" height="321" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wrxu-GRaSRw/X3c1WCbkpQI/AAAAAAABfmw/p9r6tu5boSE4V4L72rEYu9oQHkJSBHYLwCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h321/servant-girl.jpg" width="400" /></div></div>
<br /><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span>An experience from a Mr. Thomas which is about a time shift and seeing into the past and perhaps a former life.</span><span> </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span></span><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 15px; padding-left: 15px; padding-right: 15px; padding-top: 15px; padding: 15px;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">I had cause some years back to go and collect a load of straw from some farm buildings in Gloucestershire. A colleague, Anne, came with me for the ride, which I undertook in a small lorry, not much bigger than a pick-up truck.</span><br /><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">I collected the straw and took this to the lorry. I noticed that Anne looked a little strained when I got ready to drive back, but I didn't mention the fact to her.</span><br /><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">After we had delivered the straw she told me what had happened at the farm.</span><br /><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">She said that as soon as I had left the cab, to load the straw, the whole place changed. She was now in a courtyard with other buildings at the side of the yard.</span><br /><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">She saw herself as standing in the centre of the courtyard but as a young woman of about fifteen or sixteen years old (whereas in fact she was in her early twenties).</span><br /><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">The young woman she saw in the courtyard in no way resembled her and was dressed as a servant girl from past centuries. Despite this she instantly knew this woman was actually herself and she suddenly found herself standing in the courtyard, and she 'became' the servant girl.</span><br /><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">A horse came galloping into the courtyard, the rider dressed in old style clothes and wearing a three cornered hat. The horse reared up into the air close by her, frightening her, then another horse and rider galloped in and did the same thing.</span><br /><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">She was aware that the second horse and rider had chased the first one into the courtyard. She was terrified and knew that they were going to fight.</span><br /><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">She could not get from in between the two prancing horses, as the two men fought with swords. She did not experience being killed, but knew she was trampled to death under the hoofs of the horses.</span><br /><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Anne said the whole incident appeared to take about ten minutes but, in reality, she knew it had only been a few seconds. She swore she had not been to sleep.</span><br /><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Later I discovered that the place concerned was, centuries ago, a manor house farm and the foundations of the original buildings were where my lorry was parked.</span><br /><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">I believe that the reason why she had this vision was because her subconscious was excited because she was on the exact spot where she was killed so many lifetimes ago. This glimpse of a previous reincarnation may have been to give her a shock so she would start thinking about what her present life was really for.</span><br /><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Don't know if readers will agree with my explanation.</span><br /><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">~ Mr Thomas</span></span></span></div></div>Mike Perryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02149847109691591945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3569682519423498805.post-75801768753055517422020-09-23T16:56:00.002+01:002020-09-23T16:57:52.077+01:00Fact of Fiction : Astral Travel Via Hypnotherapy<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-gpL6e9Jx88s/X2ttv7Rv3PI/AAAAAAABffA/A-_HwwVZjfUphNC9W6AQ4KFDrXqg4wtxwCLcBGAsYHQ/image.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="264" data-original-width="600" height="422" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-gpL6e9Jx88s/X2ttv7Rv3PI/AAAAAAABffA/A-_HwwVZjfUphNC9W6AQ4KFDrXqg4wtxwCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h422/image.png" width="600" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">In the 1970s a guy called Terry Thomas did several experiments regarding, what he claimed, was astral travel. Terry operated from a 'clinic' in Wales and practised hypnotherapy.</span><br /><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><br /></span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">His view was that hypnotherapy differed from hypnosis. Under hypnosis, he argued, the subject is under the complete control of the hypnotist and does only what he commands. Whereas, under hypnotherapy, the subject's subconscious (unconscious) is controlled more by their conscious mind.</span><br /><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><br /></span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">Whatever the case isn't really too important. What I want to write about is the fact that Terry Thomas recorded lots of people while under hypnotherapy. The following is one such case.</span><br /><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><br /></span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">The subject was a man called John who didn't believe in God, astral travel or any other such 'nonsense'.</span><br /><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><br /></span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">John, however, agreed to let Terry use hypnotherapy on him as an experiment. After a ten minute session Terry asked him what he had experienced.</span><br /><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><br /></span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">He replied, <em>"Nothing really, only stupid imagination. I heard you telling me to take my Astral body out of my physical body and go and visit my brother. I felt myself leaving my body, then I saw my brother, who was with my mother and my other brother. It was only imagination." </em></span><br /><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><br /></span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">Terry got John to phone his brother, who lived 40 miles away, and to ask him what he had been doing for the last ten or fifteen minutes. John was staggered to find out it was exactly as he had seen and heard while under hypnotherapy.</span><br /><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><br /></span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">Because of this John agreed to another session but this time, to make sure Terry wasn't cheating, he chose a friend who wasn't known to the hypnotherapist.</span><br /><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><br /></span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">Again, to John's bewilderment, what he saw and heard under hypnotherapy checked out. He had seen his friend in a building which he himself had never visited, yet he described it all perfectly.</span><br /><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><br /></span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">There were several more sessions and then Terry 'sent' John to see his dead father, who had died many years earlier.</span><br /><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><br /></span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">The whole 'visit' lasted under two minutes. Afterwards he was asked what he had seen.</span><br /><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><br /></span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">John, who was accompanied by his mother at the session, replied with tears in his eyes, <em>"Mam, you have no need to worry, Dad is very happy and has no marks on his face, he looks beautiful, no marks whatsoever, not even lines or wrinkles, he looks much younger than when he died."</em></span><br /><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><br /></span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">It seems that John's father had marks on his face through coal mine injuries.</span><br /></span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MwoelmJjo1c/VwUb0UXXiQI/AAAAAAAArxg/uIXCd-D1vasQDpr93grRW7ueEbqvImHWw/s1600/travel-2.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Astral Travel" border="0" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MwoelmJjo1c/VwUb0UXXiQI/AAAAAAAArxg/uIXCd-D1vasQDpr93grRW7ueEbqvImHWw/s1600/travel-2.jpg" /></a></div><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">John continued, <em>"I went and knelt before him, my father put his hand on my shoulder and then seemed to go into me and I became part of him. I am surprised beyond words that I was only there for minutes, as I felt that I was there for what I can only describe as a thousand years, a long, long time. I saw many wonders, things I could never imagine, I was told so much, but I knew I would remember nothing of these wonders on my return. The only thing I remember is my father fetching me and putting me back in my body."</em></span><br /><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><br /></span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">I don't want to make this post too long but in further hypnotherapy sessions John recorded previous lives and even the moment of death in one of them. He is on tape as saying, <em>"I'm laying here bad, aren't I? My heart has stopped beating, I feel myself going cold, my heart is going hard. I am dead! ... I am looking down hearing and watching my family grieve over me, but I feel no grief, I am happy."</em></span><br /><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><br /></span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">John is also said to have made 'visits' to Mars and the Moon via hypnotherapy.</span><br /><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><br /></span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">As I often say, it's up to the individual as to what he or she makes of this post. Rubbish or an element of truth?</span><br /><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><br /></span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">Imagine though, if we could fully believe that we aren't bound by distance or time and that life is eternal. Would we, perhaps, alter our way of life?</span></span></p>Mike Perryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02149847109691591945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3569682519423498805.post-18414915509211920242020-09-19T12:34:00.009+01:002020-09-19T12:34:59.000+01:00Did Actress Joan Collins Have a Communication From Her Dead Sister Jackie Collins?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H49WevzcL6s/X2XmRXfjGQI/AAAAAAABfc8/PGlF_pe7z9s4m6mA1BkmBSz6UPPEit1pACLcBGAsYHQ/s779/JJ.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="627" data-original-width="779" height="516" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H49WevzcL6s/X2XmRXfjGQI/AAAAAAABfc8/PGlF_pe7z9s4m6mA1BkmBSz6UPPEit1pACLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h516/JJ.jpg" width="600" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>The writer, Jackie Collins, died five years ago in September 2015. Her sister, the actress Joan Collins, believes she has had a communication of sorts from Jackie.</span><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">According to Joan, when she first heard of her sisters death there was a power cut in the village where she lived and the lights went out.</span><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">Joan, 84, who was on ITV's Loose Women programme, said that exactly five years later the lights went out again in her village, and there was a complete black out.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div><p class="mol-para-with-font" style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: -0.16px; margin: 0px 0px 16px; min-height: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: graphik, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">She went on to say that, "It was really scary, and exactly five years before. I do believe there was some kind of force that was saying <i>I'm here</i>. I don't know".</span></p><div class="artSplitter mol-img-group" style="background-color: white; clear: both; font-family: graphik, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; letter-spacing: -0.16px; margin: 0px auto 4px; min-height: 1px; padding: 0px; width: 636px;"><div class="mol-img" style="height: auto; letter-spacing: -0.01em; margin: 0px; min-height: 1px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"></div></div></div>Mike Perryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02149847109691591945noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3569682519423498805.post-70924069962622701372020-09-14T15:30:00.000+01:002020-09-14T15:30:46.928+01:00An Embarrassing Coincidence Meeting On A Nudist Beach<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p0C0Hls5moE/X198xwy82WI/AAAAAAABfZ0/k6ANir3PvKMaPLyXkHVrjMw0QLkzPqQEACLcBGAsYHQ/s490/coinc.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="378" data-original-width="490" height="483" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p0C0Hls5moE/X198xwy82WI/AAAAAAABfZ0/k6ANir3PvKMaPLyXkHVrjMw0QLkzPqQEACLcBGAsYHQ/w625-h483/coinc.png" width="600" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">A coincidence story from a 67 Not Out reader.</span></span></div><div><span style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">"I remember an Embarrassing Coincidence from a holiday I had in 2010. Please don't print my full name as the thought makes me still blush today, Alice will do.</span></span></div><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; color: #666666;"></span><span style="color: #666666;">I was on holiday with my husband in Fuerteventura before our daughter was born. The island has lovely long, sandy beaches though sometimes it can be very windy as they blow in from the Atlantic. It was unknown to us before we arrived but many of the beaches are full of nudists. At least I don't think my husband knew!</span><br style="color: #666666;" /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #666666; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ps__945E2dY/VsHv57F4gLI/AAAAAAAApJ4/_hwgnZPxWTU/s1600/embarrassing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; color: #436590; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ps__945E2dY/VsHv57F4gLI/AAAAAAAApJ4/_hwgnZPxWTU/s1600/embarrassing.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" /></span></a></div><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; color: #666666;"></span><span style="color: #666666;">At first we were very modest when we went to the beach and kept well covered but as we didn't know anyone we gradually got braver. I went topless and finally both of us took the lot off. It was a very pleasant experience sunbathing and then swimming in the sea to cool off.</span><br style="color: #666666;" /><span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; color: #666666;"></span><span style="color: #666666;">This was fine, as I said, we didn't know anyone else. We walked quite a long way along the beach so we wouldn't bump into any of the other hotel guests. It was nearly 2000 miles from home, I told myself.</span><br style="color: #666666;" /><span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; color: #666666;"></span><span style="color: #666666;">After four or five days I was even brave enough to go for a swim by myself. I came out of the water and I heard a voice say, <i>"Hello Miss."</i></span><br style="color: #666666;" /><span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; color: #666666;"></span><span style="color: #666666;">I'm a junior school teacher and there before me was one of my pupils, aged seven, looking at me. Worse still was his father standing next to him fully nude. I wanted to run away as I felt so flushed and embarrassed. I took a deep breath, which probably wasn't a wise thing to do, and mumbled something like, <i>"Hello Timmy and what a lovely day it is Mr J****,"</i> and with that I turned round and shakily walked away.</span><br style="color: #666666;" /><span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; color: #666666;"></span><span style="color: #666666;">We went to a different beach the following day! I remember the holiday fondly as our daughter was born nine months later."</span></span></p>Mike Perryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02149847109691591945noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3569682519423498805.post-88987530030728158772020-09-05T15:28:00.000+01:002020-09-05T15:28:13.285+01:00After Death Comes LIFE Not Sleep!<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0suPuv-BSXI/X1OeyR5gKQI/AAAAAAABfVM/AZNUe5LEWssaq_AkM_ig1nDEQNEu7GAiwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1136/P8210833.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="852" data-original-width="1136" height="375" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0suPuv-BSXI/X1OeyR5gKQI/AAAAAAABfVM/AZNUe5LEWssaq_AkM_ig1nDEQNEu7GAiwCLcBGAsYHQ/w500-h375/P8210833.JPG" width="500" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">A while back my best friend died and his wife gave me several of his books. Some of these were published by the <a href="https://www.theseekerstrust.com/">Seekers Trust</a>. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">The other day I knocked one of the books on the floor and it opened at page 105. I glanced at the page as I picked the book up and read the quote below. This seemed very appropriate for me as, for various reasons, I had been thinking about death recently. So I was sort of led to the quote.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">My friend would contact and visit The Seekers Trust when feeling low or in poor health. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">Here is the quote from their book titled <i>The Magic of Angels</i>. See what you think.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DFriIZm7uow/X1OcgDzDN3I/AAAAAAABfVA/hefx4AvuPHciCIGihAntIQT0spAwTrQMgCLcBGAsYHQ/s224/angel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="143" data-original-width="224" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DFriIZm7uow/X1OcgDzDN3I/AAAAAAABfVA/hefx4AvuPHciCIGihAntIQT0spAwTrQMgCLcBGAsYHQ/s0/angel.jpg" /></span></a></div><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">"Talking about death the Doctor makes a most astounding statement when he says that Death is all gain and no loss!</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">He knows that there is life after death, but at the same time he is more firm when he says that if you have not been holy on earth your chances of being holy after death are remote. As above so below, he insists, and is capable of acerbity and ridicule when confronted with the notion of being asleep in the arms of Jesus and maudling affections of the old fashioned church. After death comes LIFE not sleep!</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">He agrees that death is followed by a period of rest, restoration and recuperation but, with devastating humour he claims we are all better off dead! Whilst not agreeing with him in the immediate term we can learn much from discussions regarding the Angel Kingdom, as he calls the life hereafter."</span></span></p>Mike Perryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02149847109691591945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3569682519423498805.post-407014016854900862020-08-29T13:00:00.000+01:002020-08-29T13:00:41.727+01:00What We Give Out, We Get Back - But Not Always Exactly As We Want!<p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sD8frZ55FpQ/X0pBKRYXOZI/AAAAAAABfN8/nQs0sOZY9CoKhkrbrxM1q5dJB4LgqQz2QCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/drawer.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="416" data-original-width="500" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sD8frZ55FpQ/X0pBKRYXOZI/AAAAAAABfN8/nQs0sOZY9CoKhkrbrxM1q5dJB4LgqQz2QCLcBGAsYHQ/s0/drawer.jpg" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">There was a woman who, when things annoyed her, would always say, <em>"That really bugs me."</em> One day she found the chest of drawers, where she kept some of her delicate clothes, infested with small beetles. A coincidence?</span></p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span face="">A man called Clive wanted some goldfish in a large glass bowl for his living room and - as he had read a little about the power of the mind - started demanding a bowl of fish from the universe. A few days later a neighbour dropped in to see him carrying a plastic bowl with some fish he had caught that day. <em>"Do you want some of these fish as I won't be able eat them all?"</em> he asked. Another coincidence?</span></span><br /><span face=""><br /></span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span face="">In a way both of these people got what they asked for. Okay it wasn't exactly what they had in mind but whose fault was that?</span><span face=""><br /></span><span face="">As with everything we give out eventually it returns, either to smooth our path or slap us in the face. Words and what we say are important and it's not just a case of being negative or positive.</span></span><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><span face=""><br /></span><span face="">Florence Scovel-Shin in her book <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1441435603?ie=UTF8&tag=celebinsid-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=1441435603">The Game of Life And How To Play It</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=celebinsid-20&l=as2&o=1&a=1441435603" style="border-color: initial; border-style: none; border-width: medium; margin: 0px;" width="1" /> writes about how she saw some beautiful rose trees in the florist's window and set about requesting one.</span><span face=""><br /></span><span face="">Easter came, and with it a perfect rose tree from a friend as a gift. She phoned to say thank you and told her that it was exactly what she wanted.</span><br /><span face=""><br /></span><span face="">Her friend replied, <em>"I didn't send you a rose tree, I sent you lilies!"</em></span><span face=""><br /></span><span face="">The man at the florist had mixed up the order and Florence writes, <em>"He sent me a rose tree simply because I had started the law in action, and I had to have a rose tree."</em></span><br /><span face=""><br /></span><span face="">She also concludes that, <em>"When man can wish without worrying every desire will be instantly fulfilled."</em></span><br /><span face=""><br /></span><span face="">It's perhaps why we have to be careful what we say on a regular basis. If, for instance, we keep saying something or someone is a pain in the a*** it could well become one!</span><br /><span face=""><br /></span><span face="">Parents don't always choose their words wisely (unintentionally, of course). <em>"Don't go out without a jacket, you'll catch a cold," </em>or, <em>"Be careful, you'll fall."</em> Atishoo and ouch may follow.</span><br /><span face=""><br /></span><span face="">We are surrounded by influences from other people, the media, television and so on. I guess we have to try and make sure that our own words equate to exactly what we really want for ourselves and also what we want for our family, friends and the world in general.</span></span></div>Mike Perryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02149847109691591945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3569682519423498805.post-78140558924725139172020-08-24T16:30:00.001+01:002020-08-24T16:30:07.508+01:00At Odds of Five Million to One the Money Lost From Her Bra Was returned to Her<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sk8aaHfcqbw/X0PY7m9yETI/AAAAAAABfJw/AMR0zueeFBQyOw6rRLyIXsZDbV8jzBo3wCLcBGAsYHQ/s419/bra-money.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="279" data-original-width="419" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sk8aaHfcqbw/X0PY7m9yETI/AAAAAAABfJw/AMR0zueeFBQyOw6rRLyIXsZDbV8jzBo3wCLcBGAsYHQ/s0/bra-money.jpg" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;"><span face="" style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">A strange short coincidence style story from the archives of </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #666666;"><b>The Fort Scott Tribune</b></i><span face="" style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">.</span></span></p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><b style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">Casa Grande, Arizona: </b><span face="" style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">A housewife has recovered a roll of $230 in bills after it travelled 13 days in a sewer.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><span face="" style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">Rose Mary Sotelo told city officials she was cleaning her toilet on July 3rd, and when she reached to flush it, the money dropped from her bra and was flushed down the drain.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><span face="" style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">Officials said she had one chance in five million of recovering the money. </span></span><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;"><span face="" style="background-color: white; color: #666666;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;"><span face="" style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">On Wednesday, however, Harvey Swearingen, a sewerage employee, happened to turn off the sewerage chopper at the disposal plant three miles from Mrs. Sotelo's home.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #666666;" /><span face="" style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">He was amazed to find neatly rolled $5 and $10 bills, totalling $230, with a rubber band still holding them intact.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;"><span face="" style="background-color: white; color: #666666;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;"><span face="" style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">Of course the story has almost more questions than answers. Why, for example, was Rose carrying money in her bra - especially when cleaning the toilet? But, whatever, her money was returned - sometimes we need belief to bring about miracles.</span></span></div>Mike Perryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02149847109691591945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3569682519423498805.post-13503269542865897382020-08-21T03:00:00.002+01:002020-08-21T03:00:06.847+01:00Maureen Saw A Ghost Wearing A Shirt And Nothing Else<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8BWSkbn40sQ/XzvCf5K_zYI/AAAAAAABfIo/RFo-hJYrgTY3IMQurpw2rHD_lBdYvkmIQCLcBGAsYHQ/s675/orange.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="503" data-original-width="675" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8BWSkbn40sQ/XzvCf5K_zYI/AAAAAAABfIo/RFo-hJYrgTY3IMQurpw2rHD_lBdYvkmIQCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/orange.png" width="600" /></a></div><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;"></span><p></p><p><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;"><u>A true, scary, ghostly experience from Maureen</u></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;">My family, that's me, husband and five year old child, were going on holiday and flying from London's Heathrow Airport, which is about a 200 mile journey from where we live.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;">By coincidence a friend told us his father had died and we could use his now empty flat [apartment] to stay overnight. It was only about 10 minutes from the airport. What's more we could also leave our car there as well.</span></p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;"><span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"></span><span face="">We thought this was great as the flight was early in the morning and it would save us on parking fees and getting up very early to travel to Heathrow</span></span><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;">The flat was quite small but perfect for a night's sleep. In the evening we put our son to bed and, after watching a little television, decided to have an early night. I used the bathroom first and settled into bed with my book. The bedroom was virtually opposite the bathroom and I left the door open while my husband showered.</span><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;"><span face=""><br /></span><span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"></span><span face="">I was reading away and glanced up and saw what I took to be my husband walking down the hall-way. It looked like he was just wearing his shirt and nothing else, which was a bit odd, but I thought no more about it. I imagined he was going to the kitchen for a drink of water or something.</span><br /><span face=""><br /></span><span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"></span><span face="">I got back to my book and then heard a noise from the bathroom. This puzzled me and then my husband came out of the bathroom door, wearing a towel around his waist, a shiver went down my spine, <em>"Where's your shirt?"</em> I asked.</span><br /><span face=""><br /></span><span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"></span><span face="">He looked strangely at me (nothing unusual there) and said, <i>"Why?"</i></span><br /><span face=""><br /></span><span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"></span><span face=""><i>"Well you were wearing it a few minutes ago when you went to the kitchen."</i></span><br /><span face=""><br /></span><span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"></span><span face=""><i>"What are you talking about? I've been in the bathroom, not the kitchen,"</i> he snapped.</span><br /><span face=""><br /></span><span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"></span><span face="">Another shiver went down my spine as I explained what I'd seen: the man in a shirt. My husband went and searched the flat but everything was secure, all the doors and windows locked. <em>"Your imagination,"</em> he said.</span><br /><span face=""><br /></span><span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"></span><span face="">Then we heard our son cry out, <em>"Mum, there's an orange floating in my room."</em></span><br /><span face=""><br /></span><span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"></span><span face="">We both rushed to his room, next to ours, and he was standing on the bed pointing at what appeared to be an orange globe. This travelled along the wall and then suddenly disappeared.</span><br /><span face=""><br /></span><span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"></span><span face=""><em>"The man in his nightshirt left it here,"</em> said our son. He was trembling with fear.</span><br /><span face=""><br /></span><span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"></span><span face="">Again my husband searched the flat but, as before, all was secure. I think even he was a bit spooked by now. The three of us got into bed, leaving the hall light on, and tried to sleep. In the morning we were glad when our taxi arrived to take us to our flight terminal.</span><br /><span face=""><br /></span><span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"></span><span face="">We were going to stop at the flat overnight again after our holiday but, instead, we picked up our car from the car park and made our way home. No way was I going inside that flat again.</span><br /><span face=""><br /></span><span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"></span><span face="">We told our friend about the incident but he just laughed and joked that it was probably his dad wondering what we were doing there. As for the globe, maybe a reflection from passing traffic.</span><br /><span face=""><br /></span><span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"></span><span face="">I don't know what or who it was but I know what I saw.</span><br /><span face=""><br /></span><span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"></span><span face="">~ Maureen</span></span><div><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;"><b>You may also like:</b></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span face="" style="font-family: georgia;"><div style="font-size: xx-large;"><a href="http://www.67notout.com/2016/04/best-of-friends-daisy-ghost-and-jasper.html">Best Of Friends: Daisy The Ghost And Jasper The Dog</a></div><div style="font-size: xx-large;"><br /></div><div style="font-size: xx-large;"><a href="http://www.67notout.com/2020/07/she-felt-breath-of-her-deceased-husband.html">She Felt The Breath of her Deceased Husband on the Back of her Neck</a><br /></div><div style="font-size: xx-large;"><br /></div><div style="font-size: xx-large;"><a href="http://www.67notout.com/2020/06/the-ugly-ghostly-man-who-inadvertently.html">The Ugly Ghostly Man Who inadvertently Saved Lord Dufferin's Life</a><br /></div></span></div></div></div>Mike Perryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02149847109691591945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3569682519423498805.post-70487432260659454162020-08-18T05:00:00.013+01:002020-08-18T05:00:05.672+01:00Amazing Coincidence Of Hitler And The British Prime Minister <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XFYnJQZWGek/XzauL6sxwwI/AAAAAAABfIE/eFSkUcvJIVgfFIpAeXkg_0zdMKPTrCfJwCLcBGAsYHQ/s442/hitler.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="329" data-original-width="442" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XFYnJQZWGek/XzauL6sxwwI/AAAAAAABfIE/eFSkUcvJIVgfFIpAeXkg_0zdMKPTrCfJwCLcBGAsYHQ/s0/hitler.jpg" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;"><b>Berlin, March 27, 1935:</b> Adolf Hitler and Anthony Eden (British Foreign Secretary later to become Prime Minister) discovered by accident that they were lying in directly opposite trenches in the Great War (1914-18) battlefield exactly 18 years prior to their meeting.</span></p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;"><span face="">The amazing coincidence was realised by both men during a luncheon at the British Embassy while the peace conversations were in progress.</span><span face=""><br /></span><span face=""><br /></span></span><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;"><span face="">While illustrating a point Eden turned the menu card over and drew a map of a British Ypres sector showing exactly which sheltered him in 1917, and how the British troops were deployed.</span><br /><span face=""><br /></span><span face="">Hitler then took Eden's card and drew a sketch of his own trench opposite, and the general arrangement of the German troops in this sector,</span><br /><span face=""><br /></span><span face="">Eden took the menu card as a souvenir of his Berlin visit ... </span><span face="">but, of course, they would be on opposite sides once more during World War II (1939-45)</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;"><span face=""><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;"><span face=""><b>See also:</b></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;"><span face=""><a href="http://www.67notout.com/2016/07/the-holman-projector-coincidence-from.html">The Holman Projector Coincidence From World War 2</a><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;"><span face=""><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;"><span face=""><a href="http://www.67notout.com/2016/05/a-curious-coincidence-about-warning-of.html">A Curious Coincidence About The Warning Of World War 2</a><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-large;"><a href="http://www.67notout.com/2016/09/world-war-2-coincidence-in-cologne.html">World War 2 Coincidence In Cologne</a><br /></span></div>Mike Perryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02149847109691591945noreply@blogger.com0