Wednesday, 18 March 2015

Saga of the missing suitcase: part 2

Well, the grieving period lasted about a day (I firmly believe that for any loss, from a real bereavement to a lost ten pound note, has its permitted period of grief). It involved lots of little "oh, there was that! And that too! And the rather expensive thingy as well!"  But now that I have regained my sanity, I can see a plus side.

My overnight case, which largely accompanies me when I travel for babysitting purposes, and us as an extra when we go on holiday, is old. And because I'm disorganised and untidy, there is an accumulation of silly little things that "might come in useful": freebie pots of moisturiser, odd bits of paper I use as bookmarks, nail files, and....well, actually, I've now forgotten, so they can't be that important, can they? But I know there were quite a lot of them.

Post grief, I'm beginning to dream of a brand new, clean, empty replacement. Red, I think, as we always miss ours in the airport carousel. A lovely new sponge bag (mine is old, and full of....well, dross). A new shaver for John. Lovely new make-up. That kind of thing. I still grieve for my wonderful, cosy White Company pyjamas (a treat), but hey, spring is here, so maybe I shan't need them for much longer (by next winter,  I shall have got over it). And the superb new novel I was reviewing for Amazon. And the sort of  mini electric blanket I use in my children's very cold houses, but spring etc etc...

So now, when I make one of my regular calls to lovely Tamara at the lost property place, who is kind  and helpful and laughs heartily at my very feeble jokes, I'm beginning to hope the news is bad. I shan't even mind that the cab driver (I left the case in a taxi) may now be sporting my lovely pyjamas (you don't have to laugh, but Tamara thought this was hilarious, bless her).

And the expense? As my late husband would have said,  think of that as school fees. Wise man.

14 comments:

  1. Perhaps now you have gone through the grieving process, you are beginning to imagine someone else with your bag, and who it might be. Will they enjoy the book from Amazon; hold up underwear with pincered fingers, or, Heaven forbid, wear your pyjamas and cosy up with the blanket. It's the not knowing...

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    1. Not really, but a week on, I just know that taxi driver is wearing my pyjamas.

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  2. It might be the beginning of a brand new life :)

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  3. Dross - what a great word! Never heard (or read) it before, I think, but knew instantly what you mean.
    Why are your children's houses so cold?
    By the way, I am one of those people who actually do use the freebie moisturizers etc. (Not that this surprises you, does it?)

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    1. Ah, bit I do use those little tubes of moisturiser. That's why they were in the case. And now the taxi driver has them.

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  4. Forgetfulness comes to us all.
    I suggest one big bag and a piece of string to attach you to it.

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    1. Or a backpack. I quite fancy one of those.

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  5. When you do get your replacement, remember the following holiday advice; take half the amount of clothes you think you'll need, and twice the amount of money. It's always worked for me!

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    1. Cro, we actually took very few clothes as were only away for one night.

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  6. I thought that your late husband's advice was very wise. The philosophy puts the negative behind you and get something positive out of it. A sort of variation on the Glad Game. I like that.

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    1. I know. Whenever I make an expensive mistake I have to remind myself of it.

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  7. I like the 'school fees' advice. Perhaps the expensive lessons are better remembered?

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