On the way back, about 100 metres from home, I heard a sudden loud bird noise, and looked up to see five magpies sitting on a roof across the road.
One for sorrow,
Two for joy,
Three for a girl,
Four for a boy,
Five for silver,
Six for gold,
Seven for a secret,
Never to be told.
Silver would be very useful indeed.
Things never seem to taste as good as they did. I decided to treat myself to a tin of macaroni and cheese. Yes, treat. When I was a poor homeless kid, I used to swipe tins of macaroni cheese, because they and tinned pilchards were the only things that had pull-off tops, and I had no tin-opener. I never did like pilchards. Somehow, it doesn't taste the same. Perhaps it needs to be stolen, rather than bought, for the magic to work, like scrumped apples which are NEVER sour, never.
Yeah, I know, the first thing I stole should have been a tin opener. I never did, though.