small world Archives - Circles in the SandCircles in the Sand

We all know Facebook works in weird and wonderful ways: You sign up, publish a few photos and, all of sudden, all sorts of people start coming out the woodwork.

Before you know it, you’ve got 180 Facebook friends, been timelined, and know whether your first boyfriend has already lost all his hair.

Talking of Facebook making the world a smaller, friendlier place, a funny – possibly extraordinary – thing happened today. A photo popped up that had been shared some 130,806 times. It was a picture of a tiny, framed charm that had been found tucked deep inside a vintage needlepoint purse.

The original poster, a mum named Sarah from Michigan, had bought the purse from a Salvation Army shop, discovered the charm and put a photo on Facebook, wondering whether it would get shared enough for someone to recognise the little girl.

This is the only scan I can find of me, a bit younger than the girl below and with shorter hair. But those bangs are a clue!

I looked at it, and did a double take.

“IT’S ME!!!!” I gasped! (I don’t normally assume random photos are all about me, but it honestly was such a likeness of me at that age.)

I consulted with my mother: “It does look like you,” she typed in reply, also astonished. “Same dress as well.” Even my brother agreed.

My late Nan used to do the most beautiful needlepoint work and the purse looks exactly like something she might have made years ago.

I’m really not sure at all, of course, and if it is me, I couldn’t tell you how the purse got to Michigan – but stranger things have happened, don’t you think?

Or perhaps the parallel universe hypothesis really is true [Sings scary sci-fi tune, da-na-na-na-na-na!].

See what you think…

This is the photo being shared on Facebook

This is the photo shared on Facebook – the charm pinned to the vintage purse

It’s a bit of a running joke among pilot’s wives that our husbands are never around when you need them to be – like on Christmas Day, New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day (you could add birthdays to this list too, if you like).

But this isn’t a grumble. It honestly isn’t. It’s the lifestyle I signed up for and I don’t know any other way [slips crew scheduling our last mince pie in the hope DH will be home for Easter].

The upside of being a waif and stray (and unable to get home to family) on such occasions is the lovely friends – two of whom are dear blogging friends (SandboxMoxie and ExPIAtriatewife) – who take you in, offering not only great company but also wonderful food and even childcare.

Stop going away on special occasions DH! Look what happens (last festive pic, I promise!)

Stop going away on special occasions DH! Look what happens (last festive photo, I promise!)

Last night, DH was in London, and the children and I were in Dubai. We celebrated at ExPIAtriatewife’s villa with a fabulous BBQ and, just before midnight, took our traditional walk to the desert right outside our security gate.

Standing in the sand, with a glass of bubbly, we could see in the distance the spectacular fireworks cascading up and down the Burj Khalifa, as well as the bursts of colour exploding into the starry, night sky over the Burj Al Arab and Global Village (AND we were home by 12.30am!).

My husband, 5,000km away, was in a hotel, surrounded by cabin crew. And I really mean surrounded. Five A380 crews stay at this hotel every night. I’ve mentioned before that each crew is made up of some 27 flight attendants, mostly females in their 20s, with bright-red lipstick, fashionable boots and slender silhouettes unblemished by childbirth.

I don’t even want to do the maths to figure out how many there were.

A single friend was coming to meet him – who must surely have thought he’d died and gone to heaven.

Shortly after midnight, DH and I were texting. “Just back from the fireworks,” I wrote, picturing him in his hotel at Heathrow, practically tripping over giggly air hostesses.

“You’ll never guess who’s here,” he texted back.

“LB’s teacher.”

Strict, fair, no-nonsense and by far the best teacher I’ve ever met in Dubai (of whom DH is a little nervous), what are the chances of that?

It’s such a small world, it really is. I trust DH implicitly, but let’s just say, I went to sleep chortling my ears off.