Episode 64. In which Friday 13th strikes again.

It’s Friday 13th.  I like Friday 13th.   I don’t believe it’s a particularly unlucky day, but I do think it’s special.  I have had very good things happen on Friday 13th, and I have had very bad things happen on Friday 13th.

This week has been incredibly strange, and Friday 13th continued in that vein.  I got my job done, and I got my desk cleared off a bit in preparation for my coming holiday (we’re moving house!).  But it was a very strange day.  I was relieved when it was 5.30 and time to go home.

I jsut happened to check the National Rail website and it said something about an earlier journey being messed up because of something being broken.  I should know by now that just because NationalRail.co.uk claims my train’s running, that doesn’t make it so.

My train was to terminate at East Croydon, instead of running through to Brighton.  Of course, East Croydon was packed with people heading everywhere south of there, and also the Friday evening Gatwick travellers.  I was a bit of a smartarse and instead of heading for the Brighton train, I headed for the Littlehampton train, knowing that this would go via Hove.

It turned out that there were massive signal and track failures south of Haywards Heath so everything was delayed all to hell, and in the end I got off at Preston Park and got a taxi home from there.  My journey home usually takes about 75 minutes.  Tonight it took, door to door, just over three hours.  Of course, I was forced to get a takeaway for dinner, because I wasn’t capable of cooking.  Such is life.

Some good sides of today

  1. I made a friend.  She gets my train and today we talked more than the usual “bloody trains” smalltalk, which was nice.
  2. It’s the day I count as my anniversary with My Man.  Not 13th February – Friday 13th.  There was a Friday 13th shortly after we met and I just think it’s easier to remember Friday 13th and, say, buy him a takeaway, than to insist on one specific date each year being set aside for something and getting arsey when he forgets.  I try to be nice to him every Friday 13th.  Whether he likes it or not.

Diabetic moment of the day

I had a bit of a shaky moment this afternoon.  I necked a big glass of orange juice and it was fine.  I don’t often drink orange juice, and it was very, very pleasant.


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