Bizarre coincidence or message from beyond the graaaaaaaaaaaaaaave???
My grandad died after a prolonged spell in hospital after a botched heart bypass operation during the age when hospital waiting lists for life saving operations were 3-4 years. I was mortified. He was the first person I really knew to die, and at the age of 64 and still in great humour it was a shock to all of us. He was one of those guys you thought would be around forever.

He was a bit of a hero to me. He'd caught the end of the WW2 just as it was ending, his main contribution was driving his truck up one side of the Spanish Steps in Rome, and down the other side in a drunken bet, then after demob he became a lumberjack, then went on to be a fireman, then after his first heart attack and forced early retirement he became a St John's Ambulance trainer. Proper working class champion and liked by all who met him. We'd grown really close when me, my dad and him started a voluntary woodland regeneration project doing manly things like chopping down dead trees, lighting bonfires and lumberjackerly type pursuits. Probably not the best idea for a guy with a heart problem, but he was as stubborn as he was proud.

His funeral was a really emotional day. The crematorium was packed from front to back and out the door with people from St John's, his old Fire Brigade a couple of Lords (still not sure how they knew him) and a ton of friends and family. The shear number of people there was testament to how many people's lives he'd touched. I couldn't see through the tears especially after the readings.

Fast forward a few hours and we had to leave my Nan in their bungalow and head back home, exhausted and emotionally battered. Our route home took us across the Salisbury plain and past Porton Down where he was stationed when he was in the Fire Brigade.

My dad was a contracts manager at the time, and was test driving a Ford Granada to see if it was any cop as a fleet car. This was the first car we ever had that had all the bells and whistles like electric windows, central locking and a sunroof. Anyway, we were driving along in silence, my sister asleep, and as soon as we got to Porton Down the central locking went nuts. It started locking and unlocking at an insane pace. It lasted for about 30 seconds until we'd finished driving past the entrance to Porton.

My sister woke up and wondered why we were all looking at each other, mouths open, eyes on stalks. It never happened before, or since. If it were an electrical fault you'd expect to to happen more than once.

The scientist in me still thinks it must have been something weird they were doing with an electromagnetic doo-da in PD that day, but there's part of me that really hopes it was a message from my grandad letting us know he was still about and everything was going to be OK. He could have done something slightly less terrifying though, he nearly caused another three heart attacks that day.
( Draconacticus Reject shampoo. Demand real poo!, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 15:52, 7 replies)

There are modern day examples of this.
A good few active radar instalations have been linked to interference with engine management units. Cars of that age would be less likely to be properly screened from Microwave also -- given that GSM mobile phones were not invented.
(Me, I'm not... in any way intoxicated, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 18:07, closed)

porton down
it has been admitted by the secret folk at Porton Down that they caused this type of thing, it happened to loads of people and the more modern the car the worse the effects...google it!
(Jessypuss Fiddling with stuff since 1957, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 19:24, closed)

Thought as much.

But the timing and significance of the place made me pebble dash my britches.

I've been passed Porton many times in my life on my way to visit the grandparents. The only time it ever happened to me had to be the day when nerves were frayed!!
( Draconacticus Reject shampoo. Demand real poo!, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 23:51, closed)

Might have been Grandad
telling you to stay the fuck away from Porton Down (the place the forthcoming Great Plague will probably originate)
(Rsoles, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 23:36, closed)

Yeah, nasty things went on there. Probably still do.
( Draconacticus Reject shampoo. Demand real poo!, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 23:51, closed)

Undoubtably.
It's a place where nameless social outcasts with a talent for various scientific disciplines get to fuck around with things that really shouldn't be fucked around with, safe in the knowledge that no-one is going to give them a bollocking, and that whatever goes on there, stays there. Until, of course, someone fucks up and there's a super-hot Filovirus out in the open, or some bright spark in the MOD Top Brass decides that they need to see how one of their little hush-hush projects affects a larger amount of people who are oblivious of the danger.

In keeping with the topic of this QOTW, the name "Porton Down" is one of those names that gives me the chills (along with Sellafield/Windscale, Rampton, Auschwitz etc etc)
(Rsoles, Sat 9 Apr 2011, 2:09, closed)

Me and my band played at Rampton
Our singer, who was also our manager, would only tell us we were playing 'somewhere near Retford'. As we were from Lancashire, it didn't really ring any bells with us until we stopped somewhere near to ask directions and he leaned right out of the van to talk to an old lady. We suddenly became suspicious when he was almost whispering.

'Dennis, where is it we're playing?'
'It's a hospital'
'Which hospital?'
'Errr.....Rampton'
'FUCKING RAMPTON!!!!?????'

We were only playing to the staff, not any of the crazy people. We had a bloody good night. Mud were on the week after us.
( His Popiness the Hole Invaded Poland on, Sun 10 Apr 2011, 17:37, closed)