Thursday, October 25, 2007

No bags under my eyes...

I lost a bag the other week. It was my own fault. Well, the demon drink's. I managed to get off a train but didn't pick my bag up. Who knows where it is now? Certainly not First, who operate the station the train terminated at, or Northern, who operated the train. And certainly not me. Which is a shame. The bag contained a script, covered in notes, a contact book ten years in the making and two Moleskine's, one containing some memories of trips abroad, lots of doodles and mad thoughts and ideas that never went anywhere but round and round inside the Moleskine, the other, well, not much aside from some recent notes made at an On A Shout-related meeting and a reward notice promising the finder a daft amount of money. Irreplacable items worth nowt, really, and probably now languishing in a skip, somewhere. It mattered, for a couple of days, and I felt I'd lost something really important. But the redraft was still done without the notes, the ideas would probably never have gone anywhere, and the memories still remain intact, without the need for those written reminders.

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