Doppelgangers and garlic bread

Apparently we all have a doppleganger somewhere in the world but it is rare we ever meet them – possibly a good thing. I’m not a person who would like to meet my double and see all my flaws up close and personal, with nowhere to hide. Twins (especially identical twins) for that reason are one of my nightmares…apologies to all the identicals out there, but the thought of someone else looking exactly like me but not being me scares me something silly.

What I hadn’t bargained on was someone being so certain that I was someone else that they were brave enough to wallop me on the shoulder in Co-op with a loaf of bread while I was paying for my garlic bread and start talking to me as if she had only seen me 2 hours earlier. You guessed it, I am apparently the living breathing doppleganger of a friend of hers. So in the middle of her “holy f**k, what are you doing here” speech she realises that I am not her friend from Georgia (the state not the country), I’m not speaking in a fake English accent and I’m definitely not the person she thought I was…I’m not sure who was more stunned, her or me.

To add more weirdness to the already slightly bizarre conversation we find out that we moved to Yorkshire around the same time as each other, we are from the same part of Kent and both blush the exact same shade of puce – the woman in the shop NOT her friend who she thought I was…that would just be a little bit too spooky and/or impossible.

The moral of the story? There is none – I just wanted to share the madness of the ever shrinking world.


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