I found something yesterday afternoon that took my breath away for a moment - that's getting to be a rare occurence these days - and not only did this thing make me exclaim "No!!  Get the fuck out of here!!", it also prompted me to call my mother - which is not such a rare occurence; we talk a couple of times a week - but this thing that I found affected me so much that I wanted to tell mum about it and see what her reaction was.

I was born and grew up in rural Oxfordshire, England.  There was a U.S. Airbase near our little village - RAF Upper Heyford - and I used to go there pretty regularly.  I spent some pretty wild nights partying there when I was a young adult -  as a matter of fact, Heyford played a small part in my husband and I meeting, but that's an altogether different story.  Heyford base came about during post WWII and played a big role in the Cold War.  There was speculation that there were nuclear weapons housed there, but none of the locals could ever get comfirmation of that rumor.  (I have knowledge about that situation, but I'm not supposed to know so I'm not going to confirm or deny that rumor, tee hee. Neener neener neener, you CND-ers!).

So, that's the background story.  Now I can tell you about the sewing machine.

I like to sew.  Nothing fancy, just things like pillow cushions and lap quilts.  I used to own a sewing machine, but when we got order to England in 2004, I sold my machine (it wouldn't have worked over there; the electrical system runs on a different voltage).  Those orders were subsequently cancelled, and I was left sans sewing machine. I'd been looking for one at garage sales and thrift stores, but hadn't found one.  I was seriously considering buying a new one when I walked into the base thrift store last month......and found an old, but in working condition machine for $10.

I bought it, took it home, and we moved house the next day. The sewing machine got boxed up and put in the garage workshop, and I didn't find it until yesterday when I was poking around in there.  I opened the case and found an insturction manual for it - it's really quite intricate, it has embroidery and monogram and buttonhole and zipper functions on it, and it can even sew two different color threads at the same time.  But, I digress.  I found the instruction manual, and inside was a guarantee with a hand written date on it - June 6th, 1964.  This machine is 5 years and 10 days older than I am, which I found quite amusing. 

Then I turned the guarantee over.  This sewing machine was purchased on June 6th, 1964, at the Base Exchange, RAF Upper Heyford, Oxfordshire, England.

Insert my saying "No!! Get the fuck out of here!!".  For the record, my mum's reaction was much the same as mine, but without the profanity.  Mum doesn't swear.  Much.  I don't recall her ever saying the eff word, but I can remember an occasional 'bloody hell!' when she'd hit her finger with a hammer or had nicked herself cutting something in the kitchen.  Anyway, she didn't cuss, but she did gasp and say 'oh my!'.

Now, I don't usually beleive in coincidences; I think that things happen for a reason.  However, I'm not sure what significance could be assigned to a sewing machine.  But, I'm taking it for what it is and I have been reassured that it's not such a big world after all.  If a single sewing machine can start it's 'life' in Oxfordshire and then, 43 years later, find its way into the hands of someone who comes from the same place it started at......well, it really IS a small world to have that happen.

What do you think?