Losing things

Losing things

I’m renowned for being absent minded – and I know I’ve written about this before but it’s the sort of thing that people are often unsympathetic about. Luckily my family is very understanding, even though I know they must secretly sigh and roll their eyes and wonder why I can’t keep track of my possessions. Most recently I have lost my phone twice – fortunately on both occasions it was found, and my small card wallet.

My daughter was looking at cars and the sales person at one garage took us out in one that she liked the look of. She sat in the front, I was in the back. It certainly was a lovely car and we were both impressed by it. We thanked the chap and went away to think about it; while thinking I had a coffee, she had a hot chocolate with cream and sprinkles. Having thought and pondered a while we went back to the garages so she could have a test drive. The chap was very pleased to see us, and we were pleased to see him as he was so helpful – and I was particularly pleased as he handed me my phone which I didn’t know I’d left on the back seat of the car. That was a week ago. Last Saturday I realised (yes this time I realised) that once again my phone was not to be found. I searched everywhere, all over the house, the car, the garden, outside the house, everywhere. I rang it but I couldn’t hear its jolly little tune. I was sadly resigned to the fact that it must have slipped out of my pocket somewhere and unless I was very lucky, I would be buying a new one. I gloomily wondered if that meant I’d lost all my photos and messages, and wondered if I was covered for it on the insurance. Saturday night my husband’s band had a gig and usually I would be taking lots of photos. I had a great time but no pictures to share here or anywhere. The next day I received a message from daughter of the back seat of her new car – she had purchased the car we had test driven, and there was my phone sitting there as if it hadn’t a care in the world.

I don’t carry a bag of any sort anymore – too often they’ve hidden themselves under tables, concealed themselves on the back of chairs, slid down the back of benches, left themselves on public transport. I carry my phone in my pocket (well, that’s what I try to do) and have a card case for bank cards etc which also goes in a pocket. The pockets are in trousers, not any item of clothing I might take off and leave anywhere. Yesterday I went round the corner to the village shop to buy some eggs and paid with my card. That was the last time I saw my card case, when it went into my pocket. I didn’t need it again until we went to the Dolphin, and blow me, the wretched thing had disappeared. I searched everywhere for it, checked and double checked pockets, looked all round the house in case I had put it on the mantlepiece, my desk here, a book shelf, the counter in the kitchen, bedside table, windowsills… Husband went to the pub to ask if I’d left it there last night, no I hadn’t but I had left my jacket…

Daughter came round this afternoon and I told her th sad tale of the lost card case; somehow it must have fallen out of my pocket on the couple of hundred yards from paper shop to home, or I’d put it somewhere and it had slipped so deeply under something that it was lost until we move house. Daughter wandered off and moments later was back with the card case… I had been wearing a differnt jumper with pockets in when I went to the paper shop, and had just slipped it in one…