We have all been told how likely it is, in any reasonably large gathering of people, for there to be at least two people who share the same birthday. But in my own life I've never come across anybody else who has shared mine: the sixth of July. But now I have.
I was in St Mary-le-Tower Church in Ipswich, intent as usual on photography. Ipswich is like Norwich: there are an awful lot of churches! They are all different inside, and visiting them is like a photographic lucky dip. I've yet to see any church that has completely disappointed me. Each has something. This one, splendid in any case, majored on wood carving and painted panels. A post may follow, as I would like to convey what I find so absorbing about these places.
Anyway, after getting all the shots I wanted, I fell in with a chap wearing a headband with a torch attached to it - there to expertly restore a screen - and the lady he had been talking to. As I entered, he was telling her about the history of the church. They were soon joined by a young woman who was going to undertake a singing test (the church has a proper choir). I wasn't standing close by to hear all this - sounds travelled far inside that church. I could hear snatches of what they were saying.
Eventually the young woman moved away, but the restorer remained talking with the lady for a little while longer, and I went up to them, wanting to apologise for taking lots of photos without a word beforehand, this being something I'd normally do if persons clearly connected with a church were present as I arrived. Of course it was all right. Shortly afterwards, the restorer went back to work, and I was left with the lady, who was seated, with her shopping trolley at her side in the aisle. I saw that she'd been having a rest. She seemed happy to chat with me too.
Well, we soon got on to our aches and pains - after several thousand steps around Ipswich already, my right leg was starting to complain - and it seemed we were both in much the same state: showing signs of wear and tear, but otherwise cheerful and enjoying life. And it transpired that we were both getting on a bit. She casually mentioned that she'd had a birthday in the week before. Oh, I said, so had I. Hers had been on the Thursday. Mine too - we must share the same birthday! She exclaimed in astonishment. And I have to say, it was just as surprising to me. But the happy coincidence didn't end there. It turned out that we had celebrated the same birthday. We were the same age!
I suppose our voices had become a little too animated. The vicar came up and explained that the young woman who was having the singing test needed a quiet church to do her singing justice, and our voices were rather audible. Oops, sorry! So we curtailed out conversation, and I left, feeling slightly embarrassed at being told off. (Sigh: a bit like schooldays. I was extremely well-behaved at school, and rarely did anything wrong - and therefore, not being used to censure, I felt every occasional admonishment acutely, especially if it came from a favourite teacher. I hated falling below the best standard, or ever letting someone I respected down)
Still, I'd enjoyed my chat with this nice lady! And what a thing, to come across somebody else born on the sixth of July after all these years!
There have been a number of happy occurrences like this on my present holiday, and I'm only four days into it. I always do have pleasant encounters and experiences, but this time more than usual.
For instance, earlier on at Ipswich, I caught the attention of a lady who happened to be an official local historian, and she told me of several things I ought to see. Then a short while later, a woman dashed out of a shop and directed me to one of Ipswich's tallest churches, St Lawrence's, which had bells dating from the time of Cardinal Wolsey. In both cases, they saw me taking pictures with LXV, and assumed that I was a serious architectural and historical photographer. Which I suppose I am; but I'm surprised my picture-taking was so noticeable. (Although, as usual, nobody else seemed to be wandering around with a 'proper camera', let alone a Leica!) I did indeed look inside St Lawrence's, and found that it had been converted into a very large café. And - blow me! - yet another friendly lady engaged me in conversation about St Lawrence's, and some other places I might go to. Then her table companion followed me out, and she gave me further suggestions.
Wow, Ipswich residents must be so proud of their city! Otherwise I can't work out why they were all so pleasant, and so keen to speak with me. Unless it's the camera. Or maybe - who knows - they'd spotted my new bracelet, and felt that I must be a well-loved and deserving person. Even the vicar who'd to ask me to turn down the volume was very nice about it.
Well, whatever the reason, I hope this run of happy occurrences continues.
Tomorrow I'm off to Walton-on-the-Naze, Frinton-on-Sea, Clacton-on-Sea, and St Osyth's Priory. On the way, I'm revisiting a coffee-and-cake van outside Mistley station, run by a young woman called Heather who makes her own cakes. I discovered her yesterday when on my way to Harwich, and I promised to call by again. I'm looking forward to it, as the cakes are delicious!
