Monday, 18 February 2013

My idiocy reaches new heights.

Oh, my darlings, what a blog I had for you today. Despite having insomnia last night, and still feeling extremely ropey from my low level viral load, I had a very lovely day. The Beloved Cousin rang (always a moment of sheer joy and antic pleasure); the sun shone like gangbusters; the Younger Niece was about the place; The Sister was being funny; there were charming visitors to see the horses; the mare did something astonishing.

I was tired and a little weak still, but I was going to write it all for you and you would have something delightful over which to ponder as you took your first Gin and It of the evening.

Then, I realised I was missing my wallet. That was two hours ago. For two hours, all else fell by the wayside, as I went round every room in the house, feeling under sofa cushions, peering under chairs, sticking my fingers down the back of radiators.

Of course I did the sensible thing of retracing my steps. ‘Where did you have it last?’ is always the question. But I am vague with virus and could not quite remember. I thought I had seen it on the seat of the car. Then again, I wondered if I had stuffed it in my jacket pocket this morning.

So all possible steps had to be retraced. Round the compound I roared; up to the Mother’s house, into the Sister’s drive, down to the paddock, into the feed shed. The mares looked astonished to see me in the gloaming, although Red gave a very touching whinny of surprised pleasure.

Then I had to search the car from top to bottom. I did this three times, because I have a fatal habit of looking for things in a place, not seeing them, then going back and finding they were there after all. This did no good for my peace of mind, because I had to rummage through the muddy boots, old dandy brushes, bags of horse food, and random bundles of binder twine that my motor has now become home to. It is also filled with earth and random sticks and chewed balls, thanks to the glorious Mr Stanley. It is not a very fine reflection of my current self.

I then drove to the Co-op, just in case I had left it there. The young gentleman, seeing my wild eyes and rabid stare, gave me a kind but pitying look, consulted his special folder and shook his head.

Then I started thinking that perhaps someone had taken it. I feel so safe here and love my community so much that I leave the car about the place unlocked. (If any police operatives are reading, you can stop sucking your teeth and shaking your head in horror; I have learnt my lesson now.) The vision of it on the car seat was growing more and more vivid; what if someone passing had just opened the door and pinched the wallet, fat with readies? I had a faint sense of violation, to go along with the arrant folly of the thing.

Finally, in desperation, I checked the fridge. The last time this happened, this was where the item was run to earth. But there was only some nice tuna for my supper and the remains of last night’s silverside and three bottles of iron tonic, mocking me.

I stared hopelessly at the telephone. I was going to have to ring the bank. I was going to have to have The Conversation, the one where I talk very fast and use all my most pleading charm and make jokes, to try and cover up the stark fact of what an absolute eejit I am.

I could not face the call. I’ll just have one more look in the car, I thought. Stanley and I went out into the falling dusk. I suddenly remembered that I had taken some pictures of him this morning, in the wild bit of the garden. Retrace your steps, shouted the stern voices in my head.

Back past the tiny box plants and the flowering viburnum I went, past the Japanese cherry I planted for my dad, and the little apple tree under which the Duchess lies.

And there, in the last of the light, it lay, like a joke or a promise. There it was, still filled with cash, very slightly damp from the falling dew, sitting quietly under the shadows of the Scots Pines.

And that, my dear Dear Readers, is why I cannot tell you about my day.

 

Just enough energy to give some pictures of the Best Beloveds, because there must always be those, no matter the circumstances:

18 Feb 1

18 Feb 1-001

18 Feb 2

18 Feb 4

18 Feb 5

When I rang The Mother, to tell her I had retrieved the item, because I knew she would be worrying, I explained to her about the Stanley pictures and how the memory of them was what guided my steps.

There was a pause. A note of gleaming pride slid into her voice.

‘So,’ she said. ‘In fact, Stanley found it.’

‘YES HE DID,’ I shouted.

That dog is an absolute marvel.

13 comments:

  1. Oh, the joy of finding something that you thought was lost -almost worth losing it in the first place although maybe not. Clever Stanley!

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  2. Ahhh good story. I am so pleased; nothing like that feeling of displacement when you loose something crucial. And as for that wonderful dog you have, I notice that you seem to be forgiving yourself for loving him of late. It's OK - he was meant to be loved. And by you. Life has a way of making all of this happen. I am sure the Duchess and the Pigeon are looking and smiling in that special dog way. Lou x

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  3. A lovely comment by LouBoo, well said x

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  4. I'm so glad you found it. If the story had ended with the loss outstanding I would have been compelled to start looking for it myself.

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  5. If I had a £1 for every time I've been through that rigmarole...
    Someone should invent a tiny bleeper that can be sewn inside one's notecase, which has its own number to ring when needed!

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  6. I made The Phone Call to The Bank only this very morning. I hadn't see the Visa Debit card for my solo account for a few days and had wearied of picking things up and looking under them. As for finding your wallet in the fridge, I have caught myself unpacking grocery shopping and putting it straight into the (thankfully cold) oven before now. I have found my keys in the fridge as well. I think mislaying stuff is so common when one gets past 45 it is almost normal. Reading glasses are so notoriously elusive I am delighed one can buy cheap ones from the chemist and so have lots of pairs

    It makes I larf, is all I know...

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    Replies
    1. I'm worried by the comment that this is common when one gets past 45. What about if you're like that well before 45?

      My mobile phone recently spent a week in the fridge.

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  7. I once made the Phone Call after hours of searching and as soon as I put down the receiver noticed a newspaper lying on the floor - my wallet was underneath. With every card cancelled.
    Myfanwy cannot get more adorable, can she?
    Stanley too - especially when he is on the sofa. As for Red, that photo of her sitting in the snow a few days ago made me laugh and almost cry it was so sweet.
    Hope you have the splendid sunshine we have here, Rachel

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  8. love the fact that you checked the fridge - i once discovered my teapot in that very place having torn apart the kitchen for it, how we laughed...

    vicariously delighted for you that the wallet had not absconded!

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  9. Since you didn't blog Sunday i didn't read it, but now i have and need tell you the only proof of sweetness i need is you.

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  10. So glad the wallet was not stolen - that IS an awful feeling. Still and all, this is 2013... lock your car! (I nearly inhaled a mouthful of hot tea when I read "you can stop sucking your teeth"... as an ex-cop, reading about your unlocked vehicle, I was indeed doing just that, but mentally. It's hard to suck your teeth when you've got a mouthful of hot tea.)

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