Friday the 13th.

It’s supposed to be unlucky. Some old nonsense about Jesus being crucified on a Friday and Judas being the thirteenth disciple. But London doesn’t look unlucky today. I’ve been pedalling around all day and seen nothing but sunshine and happiness. And this is the song I find myself singing on days like this. Isn’t it absurd to think that any day or number could possibly be “unlucky”? Now of course, I’ll probably get knocked off my bike in Regents Park. That’ll teach me.