Superstition

I've never really thought of myself as being a superstitious person, and have generally sought to pour scorn on those who are. But recently it's occurred to me that, actually, I seem to be becoming more and more superstitious.

Take Magpies, for instance. One for sorrow, two for joy etc etc. Well, there are bloody loads of the buggers round 'ere. But how many do you see at a time? That's right, they're always bloody on their own, portenting bad luck at me several times a day. Which means I find myself constantly reciting 'Hello Mr Magpie, where's your mate' in order to allay said bad luck. Which let's face it, is a little bit nuts.

And not just magpies. I appear to have fallen for the random 'Friday the 13th means bad luck' thing too. In fact, I'm getting pretty wary of the number 13 generally. I have always refused to have my car radio at volume level 13, despite that nearly always being the volume I want. So I either struggle to hear properly or am deafened, all so I can avoid the 13.

I justify all this by telling myself, 'I'm not superstitious, but why tempt Fate?'. Logical enough, I suppose, but I think it's beginning to get a bit silly.

So, I hereby vow to loosen this noose of superstition that at times threatens to strangle me. I will continue to admire the magpie, for I think they are particularly striking birds, but I will no longer be asking every single magpie I meet how their mate is. Anyway, they may be single, having just come out of a particularly nasty breakup from Mrs Magpie, and probably don't appreciate me sticking my beak in, as it were.

My first brave step towards this goal was to drive the three miles back from Tesco today with the radio volume at 13. Nothing bad happened on the journey, although I did see a magpie as I turned onto my road, which I thought might be an omen.

So, I just checked how his mate was.

Well, I don't want to tempt Fate, do I?