For many years now I have been accidentally looking at the clock at 11:17am, nearly every day, and especially on weekdays. When I mention this to people, they find it quirky and funny and odd. In fact, so do I. This little quirk is even mentioned in a recent interview and in an older blog comment on here.
I always wondered whether it signified that some monumental moment in my life would take place at 11:17am one day, and that I was aware of it on some deeper level of my subconcious.
On Saturday morning, the day before yesterday, my wife gave birth to a beautful baby boy who we have called Oliver Thomas Langridge. We are absolutely over the moon with joy. What a rollercoaster of emotions this has been. We didn't know the sex of the baby before he arrived and my wife Alison and I had discussed many times that I would be the one to tell her what our baby had turned out to be.
Oliver was born at 11:15am, depending on whose clock you look at. I told my wife the sex of the baby, and we agreed his name, at 11:17am, depending on whose clock you look at. Who would have thought such a momentous thing would happen at 11:17am?
Well, actually, I did.
I wonder if my 11:17 thing will stop now that I have become a very proud Dad.