greenbottletree











{06/10/2012}   Forgetting keys

I managed to leave my house keys in my flat.  On that keyring are my boyfriend’s flat keys.  I was driving between my flat and his flat, about an hour and a half, with my cat, who hates being in the car and on arrival at his flat, some 15 minutes or so (could have been worse, yes) before he arrived, after much searching and swearing (from me and Izzy the cat), I knew with certainty exactly where they were, hanging up in their special place in my hall; I hate doors that don’t need extra locking.  So my swearing cat and I sat in the car outside the flat while I contemplated what else I could possibly have forgotten and what things I have forgotten in the past.

I once flew to Frankfurt for a day’s work, wearing trainers and jeans and generally looking scruffy, and at some point had a vision of my work clothes neatly piled on my bed.  I had wondered why my bag was so empty, having left my suit behind.  Bizarrely, on landing at Frankfurt, prepared to buy a work outfit, I got a voicemail saying my job had cancelled!  So glad I hadn’t yet bought an unnecessary new suit.

I have yet to forget my passport (though I did have a panic about that when I realised I’d left my keys behind!).  I thought that was it but now I remember I’ve left keys behind before, though again not as bad as it could have been for I only had to lose about three hours of my evening to get them back (ie I had to go and find my flatmate, who was enjoying a meal out, and collect her keys!).

I know of someone who’s left their laptop on a Tube before, never to be seen again.  Oh, I remembered another one: I did once leave my cash in an ATM, about £90, and it had gone by the time I got back to the bank.

I also love that my boyfriend once drove to LHR, parked his car, flew to Hamburg, a few days later returned … to LGW, got home and realised he did not have his car and that it was accumulating parking charges. He also once thought he’d los his car keys somewhere, having been unable to find them while standing next to his car in an airport car park, so got a taxi home … and found his keys in the bottom of a bag he’d had with him as he’d been standing next to his car failing to find the keys.  I feel mildly smug that I have not done anything like that. But now I’ve written this I have a horrible feeling I have tempted fate!

I write packing lists and when I left home yesterday I had a series of lists of things to do and to pack.  It troubles me greatly that it would appear I now need to write “keys” on packing lists.  I am just so lucky, as is Izzy, that we only had a 15 minute delay getting in.  Otherwise, I guess I’d have had to drive with my already irritated and scared cat to my mum’s to pick up my spare keys and then to mine and then back to London.

 

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