Apologies in advance, but I need to get fury off my chest before it sets my bra on fire.
Whenever you book time off, you are guaranteed to come down with some shitty little pathetic illness. Not a full-blown signed off by the Doctor illness, a not-even-worth-mentioning snotty cold or general run-downedness that if you even think about having an alcoholic drink or staying up way past your bed-time you suddenly start running a fever. I’m already sitting in a sauna as no matter how much I turn down the boiler thermostat, it is set to tropical.
Now I’m fuming on the inside, as I have another set of items to add to the following list:
Things I have lost over the 18 months (off the top of my head)
- A black cardigan
- 4 pairs of black tights
- 2 pairs of leggings
- 5 scarves (3 black, two miscellaneous, one of which was intentionally stolen by another on day of receiving)
- 1 pair of gloves
- 3 pairs of underwear (ewwwwwwwwwwwwww)
- At least a dozen hair clips
- 7 earrings
- a necklace
- 3 notebooks (including a 3/4 full life drawing sketchbook)
- 2 Lever arch files (empty)
- 4 books (not including Camera Lucida – which has been stolen and stubbornly reacquired from potential love interests on two separate occasions)
- 5 DVDs
- 5 items of post
- 2 printer’s drawer ornaments
- A multi-way adaptor
- A full length mirror (yes I have lost a full length antique fucking mirror)
- A single duvet.
- A double bottom sheet
- 3 limited edition posters that were bound to be worth a lot of money one day (minus dog-end tax)
- A pair of purple glasses
- A young persons Rail card
- An Oyster card (with £20 of credit)
- A months worth of pre-booked and paid for train tickets.
I can not STAND losing stuff, yet it happens to me on But the last three items on this list, lost today, has infuriated me beyond all belief. I have torn my boyfriends room upside down, taken my handbag apart (several times), retraced my steps and telephoned venues. I know that I can only blame my own stupidity and blocked sinuses. As pathetic and trivial it may seem, I’m still spitting feathers. And sweaty sickly ones at that.
Now I am hoping that by listing the items that have unfortunately made their way into Room 101 they might suddenly grace me with their presence. And if they do, they will have me to answer to.
– Title Quote attributed to Mark Twain