And it might as well be Friday 13th.
I have travelled roughly 1500 miles in the last week, without any incident to speak of, but today I've returned to England, alone, and things happened.
I knew I hadn't any keys for the house before I set off, but we had already catered for that. Driving to the airport I realised I probably didn't have my driving licence with me either, and as I was intending to hire a car at the other end, this could be a problem. I tried surreptitiously (in order not to over-excite the driver) to search my bag. No luck. It would be a case of worrying for the next four hours or forgetting about it completely. I tried the latter.
When I arrived to collect the hire car there was a young man on the desk. Something about the way he evaded the issue made me think there could be a way round the problem. After some gentle questioning it seemed that he could phone the DVLA to check my licence but he had never done it before and was clearly reluctant. In actual fact it turned out to be remarkably simple and I wasn't even charged for the call. Things were looking up.
I managed to get into the house, only to hear an intermittent but not too loud ringing. It certainly wasn't the smoke alarm. Then the phone started: our neighbours to say our burglar alarm was going and nobody knew how to switch it off. Nor do we: it hasn't worked since we moved in almost 10 years ago. Anyway, having listened to the advice of sundry neighbours and my husband, I managed to stop the noise using a mixture of brute force and ignorance.
Now I find there is no hot water. I'm really going to have to sort that out now, because I need to remove the henna painting from my hands before my meetings. I might not have bothered but it just doesn't go with the grazed knuckles and broken nails acquired from my do-it-myself endeavours.
PS I'm reliably informed that the henna painting brings good luck.