oloriel | On Superstition and Tricolours

Oh for Eru's sake, people. 13 is not a crossfoot. Go away with your stupid 1+3 + 1+0 + 2+0+0+6 = 13 thing. I've had to listen to M. spin his stupid conspiracy theories all day. 1+3 + 1+0 + 2+0+0+6 = 13 = 1+3 = 4. There you go. Is everybody afraid of the four now?
Didn't think so.

In other news, today was Mr S.' birthday. Mr S. is the head of department and it was a 50th birthday, too, so it was a bit more than the usual generous invitation to have sandwiches together: it was a full-fledged reception down in the multi-functional hall next to the cafeteria.
As Mr S. is a Francophile, the head of the cafeteria staff thought they'd do him a special favour by pinning a tricolour flag to the wall over the buffet.

Now tricolours are tricky things. At some point in European history, tricolours were the new black, for which reason many countries have tricolour flags. Yes, France has. So does Italy. Or Belgium. Or Ireland. Or Romania. Or, if you count the horizontal ones, Luxembourg. Or Bulgaria. Or Hungary. Or, recently, Russia. Or Germany. Or - you get the picture. Even though the colours differ, they're all tricolours.

To make a long story short: Mr K. had at least got the colours right, red, white, and blue.
However, everybody (but him, apparently) realised at once that it had horizontal stripes and was, therefore, not that of France, but of the Netherlands.

Mr S. not only loves France, but also loves football (the kind you watch, not the kind you play, at any rate).

German football fans generally are not too fond of the Netherlands.

We all took it with a grain of salt, though. Or a bowl of mousse au chocolat and a glass of sparkling wine, as it was.