...often unexpectedly so.
On arrival at Waterloo station, I suddenly missed my bag, with its papers - and box of freshly baked chocolate buns - for a major Editorial Board meeting.Told myself the buns didn't matter. Knew the papers did. Had I left the bag on the train? Crossly returned to gate: train had left. In bad temper with myself, made enquiries re Lost Property, where to go, etc...on pondering, realised had left the bag at Wimbledon, when buying coffee.
Train back to Wimbledon too hot, and I was cross. Lurched across the carriage to open windows, slipped and slumped into seat. Instead of saying "Who is this ill-tempered woman crashing around?" people rushed to help. One man proffered a fresh bottle of water, insisted I take it. Everyone kind and helpful. On arrival at Wimbledon, cheery but overworked lady at coffee-shop immediately helpful and pleased to see me "Yes! The bag is safe! The railway staff took it!" (NOTE: WIMBLEDON. Yes, that's right. Tennis: thousands and thousands of people surging through the station. She could so easily just have decided not to bother). Railway chap at ticket-gate extremely helpful: finally tracked the bag down to a room where some sort of working-meeting was happening, lost property stored in a corner. Huge enthusiasm when I was reunited with my bag, round of applause. I ended up pumping hands and then hugging the ticket-gate man.
People are kind.
And, yes, in due course the buns were enjoyed at an Editorial Board - see next blog post.