Psychic powers over the mundane

Yesterday a couple of odd things happened.

- o O o -

I was walking to work listening to a 2-guys-chatting podcast. They talk about all sorts of things, often slipping from one subject to another. They were talking about companion animals and specifically dwarf donkeys. Conversation moved on to science fiction's strike rate at predicting the future. As I listened I was also thinking about where I could get a boater hat; the key ingredient of my costume for an upcoming "1930s garden party". Maybe my dad might have one.

Suddenly one of the podcasters said "I saw a straw boater for sale the other day and I was sorely tempted". (it happens at 36:20 in this episode if you would like to verify) At first I thought had imagined it, daydreaming that I was part of their conversation. But no, it really happened. Obviously the podcast was recorded some weeks before I listened to it, so I somehow psychically affected the minds of the podcasters before I even knew the theme of the party. From Florence.

A boater

- o O o -

In the afternoon at work Dire Straits were on the stereo; a song I have heard many times before called Tunnel of Love.

And girl it looks so pretty to me just like it always did
Like the Spanish city to me when we were kids

I even have sung along many times, but I have never wondered before; which Spanish city? Was Mark Knopfler thinking of Madrid? Barcelona? Valencia? I was just wondering this to myself silently when I heard my workmate Chris who was born in Yorkshire say "The Spanish City was a funfair at Whitley Bay near Newcastle". Which it is.

I didn't ask the question, and I didn't hear anyone else ask the question. Chris just announced it. I was really gobsmacked and said "Uh, weird, I was just wondering that very thing". I had earlier told everyone about the boater thing so I didn't make a fuss about this one because I don't want to be burned as a witch.

Spanish City, Whitley Bay, UK

Note 1: Chris and I work in a room with ten other people and two of them are also called Chris. Yesterday morning first thing (just after the boater incident) I and one of the other Chrises appeared in our then-empty room from opposite doors simultaneously as a third Chris emerged from the toilet. We just have to get used to these things happening.

Note 2: Chris from Yorkshire's mum used to know Mark and David Knopfler's mum.