Our blood is blue, Dumbledore is real and London has learnt nothing from Fashion Week. What a morning of revelations.

This morning while walking the lad to school he declared that our blood was not red but blue. Excellent! I’ll inform Her Majesty and we’ll do tea and catch up on family affairs.

“MOM!”

“Yes! What?” He looked peeved.

“You’re not listening!”

“Of course I am,” I said, “but I don’t think that’s entirely acurate. You see, I’ve seen my blood and it’s very red. Not blue at all. Not even leaning towards blue…”

“Yes but that’s because it’s been exposed to air.. no really.” My face must have been looking very skeptical.

“You see while the blood is in our bodies, it’s blue and when it’s exposed to oxygen it has a chemical reaction which causes it to turn red. It’s like rust.” he carefully explained.

What?

That sounds very… Plausible. I’m going to have to Google it.

I dropped Einstein at school and was at the station still pondering if there is any merit to this theory, and already composing an email to Mythbusters, when I ran slap bang into Dumbledore.

Oh for goodness sake I’m not insane (much). The man was Dumbledore! Long beard, twinkly eyes, kooky dress sense, walking around like he was entralled by everything. I’d know him anywhere. Plus – and here’s the clincher – instead of grumbling, tuting, swearing or muttering like any sensible person who is not only about to embark on the challenge of the weekday morning tube, but also then has to deal with some scatterbrained woman plowing into them, the man simply helped me steady myself, and kindly told me that ‘when you rush around it’s inevitable you will miss things’.
Dumbledore!

Oh and the fashion thing? Just a word to the wise: should you ever feel the need to leave your house wearing denim from head to toe, including denim shoes and denim bow in the hair, you call work, explain you are having a breakdown, get that horric outfit off your body and get some additional, well deserved sleep.