Speaking of Pisa Airport....
We're at the gate waiting for a plane to Gatwick, and Daisy's stomping around happily meeting everyone, and I start a conversation with a woman who has a little girl of Daisy's age, also stomping around. Then I recognise her accent: she's Northern Irish. She's not even getting the same flight as us — she's going to Dublin — yet she's from Bangor, same as us. Not only that, but she teaches at my niece's school, and will be teaching my niece next year.
As anyone from Northern Ireland can attest, this happens all the time.
Douglas Adams once expounded the theory that there are only about four-hundred people in the Universe, everyone else being a figment of your imagination, which is why you keep bumping into the same people again and again. He was right, of course, but missed a detail: all four-hundred of them are Northern Irish.
Oh, except me, of course.