Take care

Are shops getting ready for Christmas already? We went to a garden centre recently and the shelves were being re-arranged. There were hints of red and silver spilling out from boxes. It was all a bit of a surprise for me. But there was an even bigger surprise waiting to happen.

I settled back in the car, but Mr T was not there. He was wandering off looking at something on the tarmac. It seemed like a small, grey box. He picked it up and came running to show me. It was a mobile phone case and inside there was money in notes, a credit card and, of course, a mobile phone. Someone had dropped it and had driven away without noticing what they had lost. Surely, they would be back soon. But no one came so we handed it to customer services.

‘We will put this in the safe, please leave your name and address,’

I kept thinking how dreadful I would feel if I suddenly realised my phone was not where I thought it was. How would I do without it? I would retrace my journey with a hammering heart.

Suddenly the lost phone rang. Startling us all. The manager of the store picked it up.


‘Hello,’ a man replied, ‘Who are you? You are answering my daughter’s phone.’ The whole matter was soon solved.

It reminded me of the time when I went to Oswestry Hillfort with my family. I left my locked car and we climbed the hill. When I returned my car door was open and my briefcase had been stolen from the back seat. I reported it to the police as the keys to my school were in the case, along with my diary (no mobile phones in those days) and some important documents. I muddled along as best I could without them. Then after two weeks the police rang.

My briefcase had been found in a ditch by a kind person who got into the water to retrieve it. Everything was soggy but safe and the keys still worked. The only things that had been taken were two paracetamol tablets and a few coins I kept for parking.

In case you were wondering our purple lidded bin has arrived. All recyclables can go in there together. The only trouble is that we do not like dropping bottles in as they smash when they land from such a height. It does not matter, of course, gone are the days when I used to wrap broken glass and leave a note, so the bin men did not cut themselves. Care is not needed in this case because machines do the job. 

(Taken from my column in the Shropshire Star)


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