Happy St George's Day

Yesterday was St George's Day, which is apparently England's national day.  (St George is the patron saint of England, as well as several other countries, including Palestine.  That is if you believe Palestine to be a country.)  I don't really think anyone cared, though.  No parades or celebrations, and certainly not a day off.  If it weren't for a sign in the local card shop and the flag above the cathedral, I would not have even known about it.  Rather disappointing for a national holiday.

But today, more importantly, is Friday.  Despite the fact that I know longer get proper weekends, I still really enjoy Friday.  There is still the anticipatory feeling of something great just ahead.  No real reason.  Usually my Saturdays and Sundays are no more interesting than the rest of the week. 

Today has been no exception.  The weather has been gorgeous, so I took the B-man for a stroll.  We walked behind the cathedral and ended up next to the horse paddock.  Typically, there are three horses. (Horses might be a strong term as they are a bit small.  I suspect them to be large ponies.)  However, since it is spring, there are two foals there as well.  One of the adults and one of the foals were near the fence so I parked the stroller there and took Ben out to show him the horses.  The foal immediately trotted over to us in a way that clearly stated that it was a creature that was new and innocent to the world.  "No one would ever hurt me and everyone is here to pet me," and so forth.  Ben was certainly intrigued by them.  I helped him pet them, but I think the combination of baby human and baby horse is not a good one.  The foal was a little overeager and kept lifting her lips in the way that horses do.  She nibbled his little fingers and he started screaming.  I immediately confirmed he was uninjured, but I kept thinking, "Great.  Now he has a fear of ponies."

During his nap, Joe phoned to say that he would be flying over Ely this afternoon if we wanted to go outside and watch.  Maybe take a picture or two.  Now, clearly, I don't care much for planes and I kinda doubt Ben knows what they are, but I wanted to be supportive.  Apparently, our best bet was to go to this business park just outside of town between 2:30 and 2:45.  Since it was a beautiful day, we trotted out there.

I must admit I felt incredibly sketchy and I kept rehearsing the story in my head for when I was questioned by the security people.  (No, I have no business being here.  You see, my husband is in the RAF and he wanted me to look at his airplane.  I really don't understand it either.  Just wait a minute.  I'm sure we'll see him.)  Of course, we never did see him.  But all was not lost.  Benjamin appeared to enjoy our picnic.  He liked touching the grass, which I am sure has never been tainted by pesticide or animal dung.  In fact, we were actually having a nice time until I decided to put his sunglasses on him.  In his quest to rip them off his head, he lost his balance and fell backwards.  Loud crying ensued.  Great.  Make that a fear of baby ponies and sunglasses.