Little cat charms from my brother in law which watch over us from the top of a picture. A figure brought back from Botswana by my sis (I think he guards our luck - though I could very well have just made that up). A black cat, though he rarely awakes for long enough from his daytime stupor to walk across my path. A little fairy - for what are fairies if not lucky? And lots of lucky stones... which mum calls footles. Or maybe that's futles. Footells? Who knows... In any case we have lots. Partly because the beach at Whitstable consists of almost nothing else, so if ever I feel in particular need of some luck, that's where I head!
Last but not least, my lucky four leaved clovers - one found here in England by the Working Man and one in France by mum - spookily just days apart. Actually mum found two in quick succession, so dad decided that it was a particular variety or at the very least caused by growing conditions and spent hours watching the ground at his feet as he walked - to no avail. We have a fourth lucky four leaved clover in the family - my granny's - which both my sister and I borrowed for our wedding days, so I like to think of mine being passed down too. Conversely, or perhaps that should be perversely, my granny swore that the luckiest day was Friday the 13th, and I'd have to agree, as I met the Working Man on one of those very days almost exactly seven years ago. No sign yet of the seven year itch, and of course, the passage of time and cell renewal being as it is, we're not even the people we met... but that's another story... C