I don’t have a bead on St. George’s Day. There’s no special pancake breakfast, no setting crap on fire, no shopping sales, no special stoneware from Emma Bridgewater. (Wait, I lie, there is a special mug.) Yet my kids got to pay a pound each today to wear red and white clothes to school, and the red and white flags of St. George — and of England — were carried joyfully all over the playground. Apparently I should have worn a red rose in my button hole today. I hope going to the gym and having my face turn bright red while doing sit ups will count instead.
Of course, I find the dragon the sympathetic character in the story. I like modern retellings which have the dragon and George end up as friends, and the princess runs off and saves herself. Happy St. George’s Day, everyone, and many happily ever afters to you.