A Day Trip to Durham

12 August 2026

On Wed 12th August I went to Durham to get the fast-track service to renew my passport. We’re due to go to Turkey late September and I wanted to make sure there would be no problems returning, as the date my passport said it expires apparently isn’t when it actually expires. Don’t ask me to explain it.

I’d arrived nice and early to make sure I could both find somewhere to park and find the Passport Office, so I had a little walk around Durham to pass the time.

I have lovely memories of being with Tomson in Durham. He’d had a part in a pantomime at the Gala Theatre, playing a Lost Boy for a production of Peter Pan for Pantoni Productions. Every day, or sometimes twice a day, me or Andy would have to drive him from Yarm to Durham and back, so he was ready for the performances, which were both matinée and evening.

So I chatted to him as I walked around Durham, as though he were beside me. After walking past a number of independent coffee shops I decided I wanted a coffee. But by now, all I could see were restaurants. Then I saw a Café Nero.

“You don’t want to go in there,” said Tomson. “You should go to one of the independents.”

“Why not?” I asked him.

“They won’t have the milk you want and you’ll struggle to get the toilet,” he said.

Rubbish, I thought to myself. My brain is making stuff up again. So I went in and placed my order.

“Skinny cappuccino, please.”

“We haven’t got any skimmed milk. Will semi-skimmed do?”

Tomson 1 – Mandy 0.

Coincidence, I thought to myself. After I’d drunk my coffee, I thought, best have a wee while I had the chance. There was a single toilet in the café. I had to wait a full five minutes for the gentleman inside to vacate it.

Tomson 2 – Mandy 0.

On my way back down the A1, I started singing in the car. I was feeling happy because I felt I’d actually had some genuine communication with Tomson. Then I got the impression that Andy, my husband, needed some help, that he had a job he couldn’t finish on his own. Andy had been doing a house up in a lovely little town called Middleton-St-George, just outside of Darlington. I thought I should give him a ring, although as usual I thought it might just be my brain being weird.

Because I’d been singing, I missed my turn-off on the A1 and ended up taking a slightly longer route back, although I would still be passing close to Middleton-St-George. I thought I’d give Andy a ring and see if he needed any help.

“You’re too late,” he told me. “I found a young lad in a hi-vis jacket and he helped me out. The work-top was too heavy for me to lift.”

“Have you needed help before?” I asked him, trying to look for any more obvious explanations for the synchronicity.

“Nope, first time,” he replied.

So three evidential communications from my son in one day. I must admit, I was walking on air after that.