For some Friday the 13th brings angst and worry but for me, having arrived in this world on just such a day, it’s a time of happy celebration; actually, my festivities started on Friday the 13th and have only just ended! I’m feeling very blessed having spent time with family and friends, all of whom shared love, friendship and surprises, visiting and making my day very special.
My mother always said that, in a liftime, one can count the number of true friends on one hand. You know the ones, the 4am friends who’re there for you at any time. Three such friends obviously know me well, each buying me a new handbag, reflecting moods from business to frivolous.
Having been swept off to Bristol for a wonderful meal, in the restaurant I was presented with tickets to see Michael McIntyre who’s testing new material. Not being a mate of Mike’s, I didn’t even know about it until two weeks ago by which time it was too late. Husband was walking through Bristol one morning last week en route to work and felt the need to divert to the booking office. The assistant dealing with him confirmed tickets sold out months ago. Enter ticket fairy, stage left – assistant at next window interrupts saying that a row of 7 seats have just been released as the sound man doesn’t need them. Husband grabs 6. How amazing is that? Thank you once again, abundant Universe.
The ticket fairy has been very busy on my behalf as the tickets for Tom Jones’ visit to Gloucester were sold out and I was told there was a long waiting list so it was hopeless. Then, four days before Tom was performing, I had an email saying two VIP tickets had been returned, and did I want them?
Anyway, back to Michael. It was a brilliant show and the seats were perfect. I laughed so much I was in danger of becoming an embarrassment to the rest of the row. We’d left for Bristol in the late afternoon, returning at night when I was presented with a birthday cake, specially made for me and brought from the other end of the country by a special friend. Who’s a lucky girl then?
But it wasn’t just my birthday. Alf was seven on the same day. Susie, my black spaniel who’s in her heavenly basket, presented me with pups as a special birthday gift. With jet black parents and siblings, Alf’s certainly his own man and a more loving and gentle dog it’s impossible to find. His birthday treat was a trip to the Malverns but it nearly ended in disaster. Son and friend took him but in chasing a bird – Alf not son – he became disorientated and ran in the wrong direction. He was spotted two peaks away, a tiny auburn dot in the distance. Son ran all the way, grateful for the stamina built up on the treadmill in the gym and, luckily, some walkers realised Alf was lost and stayed with him. Son said that if dogs could cry, he looked as if he was. The reunion was very lively, I understand. Thank you, walkers for looking after our lad.
Tewkesbury is just up the M5 North from here and we visited the weekend festival to see the re-enactment of the battle which took place in the 1400s between the Lancastrians and the troops from Yorkshire. Friday the 13th was bathed in beautiful sunshine, as was Sunday when the big battle was due to commence. What a hoot – in full armour I snapped this knight taking in some rays. I can only imagine he must have been roasting well within the metal! As an avid ‘people watcher’, the sight of a sunbathing knight really tickled me. I should point out this was BEFORE the battle so he really was just taking five rather than playing dead – or was it just that he couldn’t get up unassisted as he lay there in splendid isolation?
Significant moments happen for me on the 13th so it’s a date I wholeheartedly embrace. Surely it’s just a state of mind, n’est pas?