I’m not superstitious at all. But I came down this morning, on Christmas Eve, feeling a bit grumpy with my partner because I feel like I make all the effort (Christmas stress amplifies this), and there it was…. a huge white feather in the middle of the kitchen floor. Wasn’t there last night and no way it could have got in.
So here I am crying on Christmas Eve, because I’d just like to talk to my dad. I know he’d tell me I was being bloody stupid but I’d still like to hear it.