Skip to main content

Who Cares?!

On wednesday afternoon, I somehow got releaved of my wallet. When I realised I did not have it with me I cast my mind back on the past day to try and see if I could figure out how this had happened. Either I had lost it, which seemed unlikely, or it had been stolen. After several minutes of anxious probing of my memory I seemed to remember an individual on the bus with a slightly out of the ordinary behaviour. I came to the conclusion that he had taken advantage of the fact that I was reading to pick my offered and willing pocket.

I was with a friend at the time of discovery (we had just been for food and were about to pay). It was late-ish in the evening and I still had to check at work the next morning for the unlikely event that the wallet had fallen out of my pocket there. Past the first moments of shock and the attempt at divination as to what might have happened, we moved on to other subjects and, I have to say, I forgot about it! It only came back to my mind on the next morning as I was getting ready to leave home for work.

Now, considering that I had my credit and debit cards in there, plus my French ID card and driving licence (which are going to be a bitch to replace!), the odd tenner and a few other bits, I should have been much more worried or at least concerned. After all I do not usually go anywhere without my wallet. The fact is: I don't really care. Of course I have cancelled my cards and I have been to the police to report the loss but further than that, I am oblivious. I actually feel strangely liberated. I was told I should get new cards within six days (it being Christmas I expect them for the end of January!) and I am considering getting only a new driving licence (which I don't really need anyway as I haven't driven for a while now) and not bother with the ID card. The wallet I got for my eighteenth birthday (that's way before the war!!!) and it was starting to fall apart.

Knowing myself, I should be fretting like mad; I would have been only a year ago, I am sure, but I just don't! Must be age!
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Please leave your comment here. Note that comments are moderated and only those in French or in English will be published. Thank you for taking the time to read this blog and to leave a thought.

Popular posts from this blog

A Short History of the Elephant and Castle and Its Name

Last night I attended a lecture by local historian Stephen Humphrey who discussed the general history of the Elephant & Castle, focussing more particularly on what he called its heyday (between 1850 and 1940). This is part of a week-long art project ( The Elephant Project ) hosted in an empty unit on the first floor of the infamous shopping centre, aiming to chart some of the changes currently happening to the area. When an historian starts talking about the Elephant and Castle, there is one subject he can not possibly avoid, even if he wanted to. Indeed my unsuspecting announcement on Facebook that I was attending such talk prompted a few people to ask the dreaded question: Where does the name of the area come from, for realz? Panoramic view of the Elephant and Castle around 1960/61. Those of us less badly informed than the rest have long discarded the theory that the name comes from the linguistic deformation of "Infanta de Castille", a name which would have become at...
19 comments
Read more

Welcome to Towleroad Readers

On Wednesday, Towleroad , the top gay blog, who win all the awards, were kind enough to link to and quote from my post on Football and Homophobia . This has generated quite a bit a traffic in this otherwise desolate region of the blogosphere. So much so that Wednesday was my highest day ever with 132 hits (previous one was 97), this week is already my highest ever with 317 hits so far (previous one was 287) and this month is the highest month ever with already 865 hits (previous one, last month, was 739, thanks to the posts on the Danish cartoons). So thank you again to Towleroad and welcome to their readers. I hope they like what they see and will be back from time to time.
Post a Comment
Read more

For the Living Left Behind - Frieda Hughes

No one dead who loved you  Would wish your future years dismembered  Against the rocks of their departure.  They would not sentence you to the guilt of betrayal  For any moment they weren’t uppermost in your mind  Nor would they wish you whittled down like a stick  To pick the stony teeth in the open mouth of abject misery,  Daily, until you are nothing left.  No one dead who loved you  Would want your still-breathing carcass  To be lost in the wilderness  That spans the two worlds of the living and the dead,  Where you are neither dead nor living.  They would not applaud your misery,  But would weep to watch their loss  Made pointless by the waste of you.  The dead become a part of us; our skin, our bones, our thinking;  Their existence is continuous in us  And the best we do in everything  As we move on from the moment of their passing.  Step back from the graveside where nothing flower...
Post a Comment
Read more