Blandford Forum Camera Club

Those of you who are dismayed at occasional lapses of memory and fear the imminent onset of some form of dementia……..you are not alone. For those of you still blessed with the ability to remember where you were going when you started off three minutes ago, enjoy it while you can.
Do you remember that mystery tale where ‘it was the postman whot done it’ but because he was such a familiar figure, always coming and going, that nobody recalled seeing him?
And why am I bothering you with this you might ask? OK, if you insist I will tell you.
Last Sunday morning I was packing my bag in a French hotel in preparedness for my return flight that afternoon. I started thinking about whether I had left my car in row C or D at Bristol Airport and other trivia when I suddenly thought I hadn’t seen my car keys recently. During the next hour or so I unpacked my case and carefully examined every pocket and corner three times. Coming to terms with having lost them I called home and arranged for me to be met at the airport with spare keys.
It was then that I thought about my passport, more particularly where was it! A brief moment of panic and then I remembered that I had put my passport safely in a zipped pocket inside the jacket I wore coming out. Oh! Relief, all I had to do was find my jacket which I then realised I had not seen or worn all week. The wretched keys were obviously with my passport in that jacket.
I opened and closed the large double-door, built-in, wardrobe about six times before I convinced myself that it was indeed empty.
So, I must have left it somewhere at one of the places I had been and eaten during the week. A long, hot, walk around the places I had been did not bring the response I yearned for.
The French staff at Biarritz airport were good humoured and slightly amused when I offered my driving licence in response to ‘Passport please’.
The ‘gentleman’ at Bristol immigration control was not happy. He glared at me and demanded to know whether I had reported the loss to the French police. My answer that the local French police station was not manned at the weekend did not satisfy him at all. ‘It must be reported to the police’. Eventually he stopped glaring at me and went off muttering that I must provide much more information. The form he returned with, together with a dodgy ball point pen, was not easy to complete. My glasses were safely in my case (so that I wouldn’t carelessly leave them somewhere) and the case was quite happy on the carousel.
I know you are getting fed up with this so I will conclude. The coat has been found, a nice Frenchman telephoned this morning. Remember the postman? The jacket was in a single wardrobe in my hotel room. I now recall putting it there on my arrival and then noticing the large double wardrobe which I continued to use throughout the visit. I just did not see the other smaller one. Happy holidays!
Keith