Talking to Magpies makes you twitchy

I have finally decided to halt the seemingly endless cycle of ryvita, cucumber and cheese to write tonight’s blog post.

There are days when you awake and something seems to happen that sets off a whole catalogue of errors putting you completely off course for the day in both mind and body.  It began with an internal scan at the hospital to check if my coil was OK. Bizarrely I was looking forward to this,  but not in some macabre way, but because it was something I had to drive to where I didnt have to squeeze in any other ‘to do’s en route. You know things arent quite right if you consider a transvaginal scan as a bit of ‘me time’.

This was quickly quashed as soon as I passed the barrier in the hospital car park whereupon I commenced an enthralling game of ‘hunt the parking space’, which involved lots of dead ends and reversing, alright if you are in a mini but not if you are in a double cab pick-up.

It was a bit wham bam, thank you mam, I was scanned so cluck I felt like I should have beeped like a barcode at a check-out but I got the all clear, dear Mirena hadnt gone for a tour of my uterus after all.

Because it was so quick I felt I had wasted an hour of my lufe in some driving/parking wild goose chase, so had that uneasy feeling on the way home of feelung I was wasting my day. This was made worse when I accidentally killed a blackbird. It just didnt get up in the air in time as I motored along, normally the smaller birds look like they are cutting it fine but always get away. This time when I glanced in my rear view mirror I saw its little black shape lying still in the road. I then felt that it was incredibly bad luck to kill a blackbird and had this impending sense of doom. My granny used to say a bird in the house was a death in the family, so I have a thing about birds and cant pass a Magpie without talking to it.

I put more bird seed out to counteract the guilt.

This blog is for Unicef. Thanks for reading.

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