telepathy, or just completely random?

When it comes to anything out-of-the-ordinary, paranormal or anything as that cannot be attributed to just a regular occurrence, I class myself these days as a "Sceptical, wannabe believer". I'd love to believe there is so much more out there for us, that when our days end they don't really end, we do move on somewhere better, and that our loved ones are visiting us from "The Beyond". As yet I've not really seen any proof of such things - aside from one medium who I really cannot fathom out; she knew things even I didn't know at the time, yet still, I remain sceptical. It's something people have made up to make themselves feel better about the loss of a loved one is how I feel some days, other's I think my whole DNA theory holds a lot of sway (in fact just last week something happened which again made me believe this even more than I previously did). 

Then yesterday happened. As you can see from the photograph below, at 13:24 yesterday I put a tweet out saying about my week off being put back. The plan was for me to have next week off; I was going to get in my little car and pootle off to spend the week with my childhood best friend who I haven't seen in-the-flesh since 1994. For some reason though, even though my plans were very much to still go and visit her next week, I put out a tweet about changing my week. I honestly have no idea why I did that. I don't even remember doing it but when I logged on this morning to see what was going on in the world (it's not quite so doomsayer, end-of-the-world depressing news on twitter as it is on media sites) and that tweet was the one showing on my news feed. 

I was at work when I sent it, hadn't been home since 07:00 and had spoken to nobody other than customers. Fast forward to my getting home yesterday evening and there is my Mum, holding her arm a little oddly, with a blood trail from just under her left eye going down her face. She also had a split lip. It transpired that at 13:04 yesterday afternoon whilst moving across the garden from the compost bin she tripped on an obstacle obscuring the path (something I am forever pulling her up on as she has a habit of moving things to the nearest gap when she's gardening, which is usually the pathway to the bin which I go out of my way to keep clear at all times). 

The trip sent her flying across the path where she then faceplanted onto onto concrete, her left hand smacking against a wall (in the camera footage of it - oh yes, for the first time ever our security camera actually picked up something that has happened (I knew replacing the one we had would be worth it - if only we'd had it the day she face-planted into the compost heap; I do believe that would have "gone viral" 😂)) where it promptly snapped a bone in her wrist. The rose bush she brushed against as she fell is what caused the blood drippage I saw, the split lip is where she chinned the concrete when she landed. She has bruising all up the left side of her body. 

Dazed and confused, battered and bruised, she sat on the path for a good 10 minutes before finally deciding she was steady enough to stand herself up, however, that wasn't as easy as she hoped it would be because she was unable to put her left-hand-down!. The camera than picked her up at 13:22 walking through the back door to go into the house where she patched herself up as best she could. Just 2 minutes later I put out a tweet about my week being postponed by 6 weeks! That's how long her wrist is going to be out-of-action whilst is heals! 

She can still make a cup of tea, as long as I ensure the kettle is filled and the lids of the jars everything is kept in are loosened; her milk is now in a jug so she doesn't have to undo the lid on the bottle. Thankfully she is able to wipe her own arse (there are some things I do draw the line at) however, she cannot put her own socks on. Putting on a top was not easy although she did manage but then asked me to help her with her cardigan because it was so difficult for her. She cannot put on her socks though and as an oldie she tends to get very cold feet. There is absolutely no way she can be left on her own next week and whilst she may well be ok in a couple of weeks I really need to make sure I am around for the 6 weeks just-in-case.

Did I have a premonition? Did my Mum somehow psychically connect to me? Did someone else connect with me on a spiritual plain to let me know, or was it purely coincidence that made me post when I had no clue anything had happened and was still planning on being away next week? 

It's not the first time something like that has happened to me when it comes to my family. Before the world went so digital I would get my wages each week, in cash, in a little brown envelope - those of you over a certain age will know exactly what I am talking about. Every Friday evening I would get in from work, take out what was mine, and leave the rest in the envelope on a shelf in the kitchen. From that my Dad would take the rent they charged me, Mum would take out the money for my food when she did the shopping. For 5 years I had never once not put that envelope on that shelf. 

April 20th 1991; I get to work, the phone rang half-an-hour before we were due to open and I answered (something I never did) to find my Mum on the other end to tell me my Dad had just had a heart attack. He was at work in Leicester. We had to get to him with no idea whether he would be dead, or alive, by the time we got there. His boss gave us a lift and, thankfully, he was still alive (he had died a few times, once for over 5 minutes) and we got to keep him for another 2 years after that date (he died just 7 days before the 2 year anniversary). There we were, my Mum, Brother and I in a city we've never visited, with a poorly Dad in hospital; there was no way we were leaving until he was well enough to come home with us. That's when it struck us we would need somewhere to stay. Now, Leicester Royal Infirmary were amazing; they offered us rooms in their nurses accommodation, but these had to be paid for (only fair if nurses pay for them that we should). We also needed food, which you don't get free. These were the last things we'd thought of when we received the call. Then I opened up my handbag when I went outside to smoke a ciggie and sitting there, staring at me from the little pocket on the inside was my wage packet. I'd not put it on the shelf the evening before. For 260 consecutive weeks I'd done the same thing with that money, until the night before I needed it like I have never needed it before. 

Am I reading more into it, or is there something going on the background that I am trying hard to unbelieve? I've had other moments/experiences to but I can save them for another day.