I've always considered myself lucky and today was no exception. I always carry a bag of sweets in the car, it's something to do with keeping my blood sugar up, I seem to remember.
Anyway, at the moment it's a bag of fruit pastilles, which I started the other day, and I noticed that today for some reason all the black and red ones (my favourites) had sunk to the bottom. A sort of reward for munching my way through the shitty lemon and pear flavoured ones the other day.
This meant that my boring journey over to Liverpool airport this morning was filled with joy (it was a big bag).
However, this was counterbalance by my manly attempts to keep the car on the road as it was buffeted by gale force winds as I negotiated the M62 and the leafy suburbs of Wigan, Warrington and St Helens.
I couldn't but force a wry smile at the huge signs at the side of the road proclaiming that 'strong winds were forecast'. A statement of the bleeding obvious if there ever was one.
The reason for the trip? My mother's sister Pia and her husband Dino were arriving from Naples for a wedding this weekend. As I get fed up with a two hour car journey they put me to shame by saying that they'd had a good journey. Not bad for a couple well into their eighties.
When I got them to my mum's house, Jan set about cooking that good old Italian standby paella. And very nice it was too.