“Even if you are a little over thirty, there is hope of marrying a prince” - that’s how it seems to be sung? But this is not about me. I'm not thirty yet, I'm not expecting a prince. I'm used to relying only on myself, you know. And life convinced me that this was the most correct position. Until one wonderful moment when... no, not a prince, fell on my head. Prince's horse. Or maybe, after all, it was the prince. Who can sort them out when they fall out of the blue. However, this story began on a sunny summer Saturday morning...