Synchronicity

A friend and I had a chat about synchronicity last Saturday and agreed that things tend to happen when they happen, for a reason. Having had a lift to an overground train station, which made the journey to Ealing much quicker than the 50 minute slog there by bus, I decided I would get the same train back, which was the Heathrow Connect train.

My friend and I rabbited on for a bit longer than we'd intended, then I set out for the station, only to find a load of paramedics and police rushing in. I headed for my platform, to find a policeman barring the way. As I stood there wondering what was going on, a teenage boy came stumbling down the steps looking pale and burbling about all the blood. Later, I discovered that if my friend and I hadn't talked for those few minutes longer, I would have been there just in time to witness the horrible death of some poor man beneath the wheels of the Heathrow Connect train. Synchronicity?

I have just had another rather odd example of it. I had a card through the door to say there was a letter for me at the parcel office which hadn't been delivered because of insufficient postage and it would cost me £1.50 to retrieve it. Just before I got to the office, as Mr Grumpy was literally turning into the driveway, I had a call from Foxtons estate agents to tell me about a house for sale. It was too expensive and I told them so. Are you still with me? There is a purpose to all this preamble! For once, there was no queue so I went straight up to the window and passed them the card. They gave me the letter and I recognised the writing of a slightly loony friend who photocopies his favourite cartoons and sends them to me once a month. They normally end up in the bin a few minutes later.

"I'm not paying £1.50 for that," I said, and asked them to throw it away for me. Then I noticed... He always uses a secondhand envelope and this was a Foxtons one! I'm starting to feel a little spooked.