Glove-gate: In one hand, out the other

Divine retribution last night when I got home to find that I’d lost one of my gloves. Expensive as well – and extremely warm, bought for me last year. Perhaps Christmas has come at the right time. Naaaah, my birthday can do for that. But why divine retribution?

Well, early during yesterday’s walk, I found a £20 note on the pavement. What’s the chance of that – I’d never been so lucky. No-one else was around so whoever had dropped it was long gone and probably still very much none the wiser for the moment. I considered handing it in at the police station, which was around a mile away and directly on my route but, while I am not insinuating anything at all, the chance of it ever getting back in the pocket of the original owner was next to nil. My next thought (and probably the right one) was to put it towards my charity when I got home.

However, I then contemplated the times when I was pickpocketed in Liverpool (at the famous Pompey match in 1980) and lost around £15 – worse still that it wasn’t even my money to be stolen but money collected from others for the minibus we had commandeered from our school for the half-term trip. I was also diddled a tenner by an old college mate on a train, lending it to him at a time when I wasn’t exactly flush myself, only for him to later flatly deny he’d ever borrowed it. Add to that the countless times when car parking machines and vending machines have shamelessly swallowed my money without recording it and with no chance of redemption so, no, that £20 is rightly mine and I’m going to spend it on me, yes, me!

I was not feeling the slightest guilt – in my rather momentarily twisted mind I’m still on a net loss to the world in this respect. So to reach home with just the one glove in my pocket – was it ironic? Or is that only rain on your wedding day?


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