I really must control my mood more. Last night I was dribbling in a thoroughly monotonous and boring way at Paul F, Caroline and Peter (sorry!) and then even more online dribbling to my poor online chum Lizzie when I got home (sorry hun).
Anyway, I’m hoping I’ll be cheered up a bit today. In spite of the fact it’s another irritatingly glum, dreary, grey, damp morning. My desk calendar tells me that today is the first day of summer in the southern hemisphere. Oh envy, envy, envy!
Another thing I did last night: went to the bar to purchase drinks for myself and Paul F, put my wallet on the bar, and cheerfully carried my drinks back to the table. And there my wallet sat, unattended, on the bar in a packed pub, filled with credit and debit cards and a crisp £20 note.
Just as we were thinking of leaving, a full twenty or thirty minutes later, I suddenly realised that my wallet was not in my pocket. I walked over to the bar (trying my best to conceal my anxiety), and there it was, exactly where I had left it, contents untouched. Luck? A testament to the honesty of the punters in the Nags? Maybe it was watched over by the bar staff? Or just another example of why I love my home city?
separating the wanted from the unwanted