A group of walkers at the start of the 'Ross Round'.
Ref: DSC_4585

I have experienced a few coincidences during my life time so far, and think the biggest occurred when I gave a hitchhiker a lift to Ross-on-Wye during February of 1980. He was a New Zealander and in conversation, mentioned that he was flying home a month later via Los Angeles. Anyway, we chatted during the journey along the A40 about life, the universe etcetera and I told him that I also was off to Los Angeles at around the same time. On dropping him at his destination, tongue firmly in cheek I said, 'May see you in LA,' as we parted company.

I thought nothing more of this once home and went about daily business as usual. On 28th March however, I was travelling alone and sitting on board a USA bound British Airways Boeing 747 at London Heathrow waiting to taxi when a late arrival on the plane plonked himself into the seat next to mine. I could not believe it - he was my New Zealand hitchhiker friend! What was really strange was that he had bought a last minute 'standby' ticket on the day of the flight. We spent a weekend eating pizza and burgers whilst exploring Los Angeles together before departing to continue on our separate paths once again.

The incident which prompted me to write this article however occurred whilst photographing the 'Goulding' family above, last Saturday. Again - I don't believe it! Going back even further in time to 1975, when I got married and left 'home' for the first time, I bought a one bedroom maisonette in Romford, Essex, in which I lived for one year prior to moving to Ross-on-Wye. Being only 21 years old then, all of the neighbours appeared to look in their early 300s - that is apart from one other couple who lived a few doors down the street. We used to chat whenever we met outside the house but nothing more than that.

Taking the Goulding family photograph above involved going up in a crane lift and whilst standing waiting, thinking that perhaps I should have chosen my brown corduroy trousers to wear, I got chatting to the one other newspaper photographer, Dave Farrants, who was going up with me.

Dave talked of the time when he was a freelance in Essex for The Recorder.
'That's strange - I used to live in Romford back in '75,' I said, knowing the 'Recorder' well, 'No.47 Wolsely Road, Rush Green.'

Dave appeared visibly stunned. 'I don't believe it!' he exclaimed. 'I lived at 53 Wolsely Road at that same time - I thought your face was familiar! I was the one with the purple Hillman Hunter.'

Dave was a person I didn't really get to know well, but would pass the time of day with virtually every day at some stage during my brief period in Rush Green, Essex.

It's a small, and a rather strange world!

A.J.W.

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