Fiction is full of serendipities, and we are used to accept them as part of literary conventions. When serendipities occur in real life it feels uncanny. In my yesterday's post I mentioned a writer who once asked me what it was like to be dying. I didn't want to give the name, but I must now: it was Alan Garner.
In today's Independent there is an interview with Garner, that among other things mentions his near-death experiences. It also mentions places that I remember well: the Medicine House with its gigantic chimney, the railway at the bottom of the garden, Jodrell Bank radio telescope, Alderley Edge with its caves. It evokes other places: the Old Man of Mow, the Green Chapel, the fake ruin from Red Shift. All uncanny places with dreams and memories woven into them. Obviously, the interview was written when I wrote my blog yesterday.