The first bag to go missing was a carry-on sized hard-shelled suitcase (metallic grey with purple trim). I’d left it in the care of the bus driver after he had dropped me off just outside the new premises of the consulting firm in central London. The driver confirmed that he’d keep the bag safe for me until I took my return journey with him to the station. What neither of us realised was that each of us was thinking of a different timescale: his was one day and mine was five. By Friday both the bus driver and the vehicle on the route had changed. DC offered all the sympathy he could for my lost luggage while I wondered why his new work premises were furnished in the style of an olde worlde pub.
The second wandering bag was my rucksack. This time it was more serious because its contents included an exam paper. My route to invigilation duties was via the spanking new library at the newly refurbished campus on the outskirts of Edinburgh. Everyone had been raving about how it combined both university facilities and a public library. When I arrived there I also noticed that some of the employees were from the National Library of Scotland. It certainly was a beautiful space and greatly appreciated by the local community. I lost track of time as I perused the shelves looking for something that would keep me entertained for the two hours that I was forced spend in silence in the exam hall. I had considered reading journal articles, but with contact lenses (rather than glasses) that day my eyesight just wasn’t up to the small print. Instead I headed towards the public library stock. Then I noticed that it was already 10:00, the appointed start time for the exam. I hurried to get my arms down the sleeves of my jacket and Barbour coat, grab my bag and get out of the door. However, I really struggled with the first task and got all tangled up in my clothing. A stranger offered assistance and I accepted. Instead of helping me into my coat, however, he grabbed me by the waist and plonked me on his shoulders. The only person tall enough to rush to the rescue was JM. Unfortunately, in the meantime, my rucksack and its vital contents had all vanished.
Later I sat with my paternal grandmother and others watching old film footage of the family on video. Granny hardly flinched when Grandpa made an appearance. When he started misbehaving on camera we all finally understood the roots of the family’s strange sense of humour.
Dreamaticus 