September 11 is one of 3 days every year where I stop, not only to mourn the friends we lost, but also to give thanks to whatever or whomever changed circumstances in our favour.

The first day is the 3rd of august 2001, I had been in the UK for 3 months. We lived in Ealing, a few minutes from the Broadway. We where meant to go out in Ealing that night meet friends for a drink but James having only just returned from the US was jetlagged at work catching up. He got home around 9 and we watched an episode of babylon 5 and went to sleep. I woke up suddenly just after midnight because of the loudest noise. I sat up for awhile heart racing in my chest, next police and fireengines sounded.
At the time I assumed there had been some sort of car accident and it wasn't until I switched on the news at 6 the next morning that I was confronted with what had happend.
Real IRA had placed a bomb in a car just outside the pub we where supposed to go to. 7 people where injured and a whole lot of damage was done.

The next date is 11th of september. James's job at the time required a lot of traveling and he was very often in the States. He had just come back from a trip to the WTC a couple of weeks earlier and was set to go again that week. Plans changed, the customer couldn't  make the appointment and it was moved a week later. Instead he went to Hungary and arrived home around 2pm.  He switched on the TV and it was then that I called him to find out if he was home or if the situation in the US was causing him trouble at the airport. The conversation we had then is one I probably never will forget.

And then there is July 7th 2005. We had moved to Hanwell 15 steps away from the W13 postcode (Ealing) Nearly a year before we became parents. It was a lovely looking day and Euan and I where going on a roadtrip. I wanted to get out of the house go to Camden to mooch the shops buy some new summer shoes. He woke up really early that day and instead of going out like I had planned I put him down for a nap. Halfway trough his nap the sirens started. I switched on the News thinking the real IRA had done something again.
I was not prepared for the images that appeared on the screen.
I texted James that I was home & ok and tried to get trough to the Netherlands but I couldn't get a line. Finally an hour later the phone rang and I was able to let people know I was safe.

These 3 events had a huge impact on me. The first because I had never considered that I could live in a country where bombs where almost part of daily life. It didn't surprise people here. The second and third I doubt need any explanation. 3 events where things changed just enough for us not to be in harms way have really made me cosider the excistence of a Guardian angel of some sort. They made me wonder if your life has been decided before you are born or if luck really has a say in it.

I am convinced we had someone looking at for us those days, someone who knew life wasn't over yet and wanted us to go on.

Have you got a Guardian angel? I'd love to hear your stories in the comments!