Saturday
A day full of promise. It was beautiful. The sun shining, the Henley team trucked into London to play against bottom-of-the-league Wimbledon. A win would put us at 7 wins in 8 and, most importantly, 5 of 6 league wins. It would launch clear of relegation and into mid-table. We didn't play our best, but we did enough to win 4-2. The win capped an incredible run as we were all but written off by everyone in January. It was a late game, starting at 3pm. That left a sprint back to Reading to meet up with the family and head down to Southampton to stay with Pete and Karen. Rach and Ellie were also by and we had a lovely evening while Anna slept soundly amongst a throng of duvet in another room.
Sunday
Rachel always needs a plan, so the night before we had decided as a group to make for Titchfield Abbey after a breakfast of bacon and egg bagels. Pete pulled together the breakfast while Anna ripped around the house and Ange and I drank coffee. Jenny and Corey were able to make it by. It is always a little weird to think my office-mate from United Way of Calgary and Area is living in Southampton. We caught up on months of daily routine and Jenny and Corey mulled over "what next" for them. Stay? Return home to Calgary? Strangely, they've managed a moderately plausible in-between: move to Ottawa. Their indecision is almost entertaining. I think Jenny likes to stress me out a little with it. They seemed happy and well-adjusted to life in the UK: Korey follows football, they want to holiday in France for their summer vacation, they text on their mobiles instead of phoning, and they're in a constant state of concern about the expense of everything! Happily, they're most likely here until the autumn, so we've plans to see them more over the summer.
Jenny and Korey were unable to join us at Titchfield Abbey, but the rest of us drove down in two cars. One car was coming back to watch England play France at rugby, the other going to the pub on the beach. It was only when we were about to leave that I realised that I had misplaced my wallet. Or had I? I had it when I left and I swore I had put it in the bag on the back of Anna's push-chair. My heart sank. I knew it was gone. We had walked away from the push-chair briefly to poke around. There were a number of people around when we came back. There were a few people who looked a stereotype that one might think would pinch something, but who knows? I took the bag apart once, twice, three times. I emptied the car. I re-emptied the car. I checked and re-checked and decided to look around at Pete's place. In the end, it was a blitz cancel of all the cards as I resigned myself to not seeing my wallet again. I was sadder about losing my wallet, which I had had since I was 16 than the 30 quid or my lost UofC alumni card. Those who knew me way-back: it is the same one that sported a ‘Rhymes with Orange’ sticker for many, many months.
The class required to steal from a baby buggy still irks me a little, but in the end, it was good to see friends in Southampton. And England won a very exciting game of rugby. As the many people cheered and clapped each England score, Anna cautiously clapped too (a vast improvement over her terror at the cheering for the Oilers in last year’s playoffs). Very cute.
Monday
I arrived at work to a phone call from Gary. Gary, who works in Cosham, near Titchfield, had found my wallet on the beach about 3 miles from Titchfield Abbey. No cash, but all the cards were in it. He kindly offered to post it to me, sending me a note along with which read, “I hope this has restored a little faith in the English. Welcome to England!” But that would not arrive until Thursday which, as it turns out, was a long way away.
Until then, Ange would have to take out money for me. I had a little leather business card holder with a bit of cash from Ange and… nothing else.
Tuesday
Survival without my wallet going well. With no need to purchase anything, I hardly noticed it being elsewhere apart from the odd full body pat (back pockets front pockets, left coat pocket, right coat pocket…) before realizing I wasn’t ‘meant’ to have it at that moment.
Wednesday
A largely uneventful day. I was on course to learn how to interview people. It was moderately interesting. Anna’s day got to end at nursery a little early as the course ended early. We hung out at home and went for a run about the garden to enjoy the sun. Everything is a bit of a jog right now. Walking firmly under the belt, she has started to lean forward slightly as she walks which throws the balance slightly and means it is full steam ahead all the time. Ange and I watched the movie The Station Agent, which was short, interesting and had a happy ending of sorts. We went to bed early-ish as I had a course in London the next day.
Thursday
We woke up and started our routines quickly. Little time to spare as snooze had been hit once or twice. As I emerged from the shower, Ange asked if I had been downstairs already. “No,” I replied inquisitively. The door was open. Our first thought was that the wind had blown it open because we hadn’t latched it firmly. The computer was there. The camera was still on the table, nothing was out of sorts. We started getting Anna’s porridge together (she loves porridge: especially with blueberries) and I grabbed my stuff to get to the train.
Ange went for her wallet to get me something… oh boy. Her attaché case wasn’t where she left it. Ange never forgets where she left something (a trait that truly does my head in)… I quickly scanned the place. The sat nav was gone. Mobile phones were gone. You could see Ange’s heart sink. I fired over to the computer to pull up the police number. Was her wallet in her bag? Yep. The phone calls started to banks in both Canada and Britain to cancel. I found the numbers quickly; almost effortlessly as if I had had practice at such things. I was so confident that it was all in hand that I thought we’d report it and get on with our day.
Then I asked if she had keys to get back in. No. They were in the attaché. I felt sick as I tore out the front door. Sure enough: the car was gone.
Suddenly the scale was big. The police were on their way as we started to realize how much had actually been taken (my work documents, good coat for work, hockey stick, cd’s, the map that Ange and I had taken around Europe with Fred the motorbike, and our London A-Z were in the car).
As we stood there looking at one another trying to take it in it became obvious I wasn’t going to London. Not the least of which was because now neither of us had a wallet.
Priority number one became to get my wallet from the post office. I walked over to the post office with my last remaining piece of ID (my passport) to collect it. Thankfully, my debit card came through the door that morning as well. I got some cash from the bank and returned home with a wallet full of canceled cards, a brand new debit card and some cash. Ange had to smile as I handed over the business card holder with the same money she had taken out for me on Sunday night.
So, we’re alright. A wee bit rattled, but nothing severe. Besides, there are now loads of things to blog about! For example, look forward to Organized Crime: Your Insurance Company or The Thames Valley Police Service: Legitimate Candidates for the Friendliest People in Britain or Dad Gives Ben a Car Not Unlike The Bike He Got for Ben in 1999 or Have a Look for You Own Car in Caversham (no reflection on how good the police really have been)…
3 comments:
That really does suck, are you going to buy a automatic this time? Go for no re-test.
Yikes. You are the third and fourth people I know this week who have had wallets stolen in the UK! I know there's probably not a lot I can do...but in case you think of something, just let me know!
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