I lashed out the other day. It's not all that often that I treat myself to new clothes, but I thought, "What the heck, if I can't buy myself new clothes every now and then, life has come to a pretty poor pass." So I did. I bought a belt.
I needed a new belt. I do have a rather natty, dark brown, leather belt that I wear with my best chinos but I needed a new belt to wear with my dog-walking, gardening, all-purpose, doing-things-in trousers. They do have a belt - or they did - but it was plasticy and perilously close to giving up the ghost. The one I wore before that was a leather belt I had bought when on holiday in Malta (or should that be on Malta - after all, it is an island) but that had seen so much wear that it had broken in two. I did try to mend it with a bit of sticky tape but that didn't work too well and the Old Bat drew the line at going out with me either using an old tie to hold up the strides (as they say is Aussie-land) or a length of baler twine stolen from my cousins farm or the old belt repaired with duct tape. So I bought a new belt.
After I had taken the plasticy belt off the trousers and inserted the smart, new, brown, leather, one-and-a-half inch wide belt with a big buckle, I went to put the old belt in a drawer. It's not that I'm a hoarder - well, not overmuch of a hoarder - but I do dislike throwing away things that might come in handy one day. Then I changed my mind and decided to throw it away and blow the fact that it might come in handy one day. Having come to this momentous and almost heart-rending decision, I decided to look in the drawer as I was pretty sure there were other old, possibly plasticy belts in there that might be on the verge of giving up the ghost and, even though they might come in handy one day, I really should clear them out.
There were. In fact, there were four more and I ended up throwing away all five.
While I was at it, I carried on looking through the drawer. I found the operating instructions for a watch I threw out in about 1994, a receipt for something I bought the Old Bat for her birthday in 2001 (I refuse to divulge what it was on the grounds I might incriminate myself), my father's wallet - somewhat mildewed, my grandfather's signet ring which snapped into two pieces years ago and which I have been meaning to have repaired, an empty envelope and, hidden beneath said envelope... money! Real folding money!
The only trouble is, it is an old one pound note - and these were withdrawn from circulation in 1988. It's not in very good condition either. If it were I might have tried selling it on Ebay where they fetch anything up to £5 a time.
Now, somewhere or other I know I have a few ten bob notes in mint condition...
I'm not sure, but I thought it was illegal to make copies of currency notes so I might end up in the Tower of London or some dank, dark dungeon. If you hear no more from me, you will know what has happened.