Monday, 5 July 2010

Signs of Distraction

I'm writing this on a train to Leeds. Not the one I booked on The Bank's travel system and for which I had a seat reservation. No. That train left at 17:33 from Kings Cross. That's what the ticket said. I thought I was getting a train at 18:00. There is one. I must have chosen the 17:33 instead. So I missed it.

On Friday I lost my toiletry bag somewhere in Heathrow Airport. I had built its contents up over the years: a small badger shaving brush, a tube of almond shaving cream from Taylors of Old Bond Street, various pills, plasters and potions to cope with minor eventualities and stomach acid, toothbrush and toothpaste. I had it in an external pocket where the security people could look at it, and when I left the Cafe Nero to go to the boarding gate, there it was gone.

When I arrived in the Netherlands, my phone decided to go wandering. It wouldn't find a signal, lost my friend's details and re-booted itself when I tried to look at his records. It cured itself after being off for a while. This morning it lost my sister's details.

When I tried to leave the Netherlands on Sunday evening, KLM decided to change the plane, os instead of leaving at 20:30, we left at 21:40. When we arrived at Heathrow, they parked us at a gate somewhere near Reading. I think we may have been the last plane into T4 than evening.

I bought another train ticket and the chances are good I can expense it. I replaced the essential parts of my toiletries bag. I can re-load the contacts in my phone. I can't get the bad night's sleep back.

But it's not about losing and replacing things. It's about the state of mind I'm in but don't seem to be aware of. I'm distracted. I'm thinking about anything but where I am. It's not just what usually happens over summer, there's a little more to it than that. And when I find out, I'll tell you.

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