Janet Christie: Mum’s the word - Being a bad Omen

FOR ONCE I miss spectating Youngest Child’s hockey game on Saturday morning because I have visitors.

.

I’m not that sorry, as it’s always freezing and early, and they lose. She phones me later to tell me the score.

“4-0. We won!” She’s cock-a-hoop. This is a first. Literally.

“Aw. I missed it, dammit. I knew you could do it. Those five nil score lines didn’t tell the real story,” I say.

“I know,” she says. “Four goals. Woo-hoo!”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there this time.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking. No offence, but... [I brace myself for the offence] well, I think you not being there might have been a good thing. I’m thinking it might have been you that was causing us to lose all the time!”

“Eh? Me? I don’t do anything. I encourage, clap, cheer. I’m always on my best behaviour.”

“No, just you being there. I think you might have been bringing us bad luck.”

“Oh. Like an albatross around your necks?” I say.

“What-y?”

“There’s a poem called ‘The Rime of The Ancient Mariner’, where a sailor kills an albatross and it’s bad luck and ...”

“Whatever. Yes. That. An albatross. Bad luck. Seems funny that the one week you don’t come, we win,” she says.

“Well, we’ll see next week, whether you win or not,” I say.

“Mum, you probably shouldn’t come.”

“I’m coming.”

“No, really....”

“I insist. I’ll be there. Rain, shine or ... snow. I’m coming.”

What did I say that for?