I skip down the grand-ish staircase at Welshpool Town Hall and onto Broad Street: I am probably at least .5 kilo lighter than when I trudged up about an hour ago. I've had a little lie down too. My joie de vivre came at a price however - a needle in the arm and the drawing of blood; my 42nd donation apparently. No problem, this is something I would urge everyone to do if they can - that's give blood of course - not skip on Welshpool's main thoroughfare. No, not that.
It's a sunny day and all is well with the world. I need cash and a large layout pad. Cash is easy as the 'hole in the wall' is across the road. Card in, tap, tap. Bob's y'r uncle, etc. The layout pad, predictably, is not available locally and it is only when I open my purse to pay for some fibre pots at the till of Coed-y-Dynas, which not only has a garden centre/deli/outdoor and art and crafts department (but no layout pads), that I realise OMG!! OMG!!!!! My purse is empty. I jump up and down I ferret around in every nook of my bag. I try every pocket in coat, jeans and shirt. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. Diddley squat. The cash is not there. It looks as if I've pressed all the buttons, retrieved my card and walked away without the dosh. Oh woe. I rush wailing to the bank, praying for a parking space.
It seems the transaction has gone through. It's possible that the machine retracted the money when I didn't take it. Did you know that machines could do that? I don't think there was anyone behind me who might have made the most of my stupidity and trousered my cash, and hope that a passer-by didn't do likewise. I now have to wait until Friday when the bank does its sums and if they can't account for a surplus of £100 then all will be well. Back home my Glam Ass says it is something he has Often Nearly Done. Some consolation I suppose.
So, I've given blood and been a fool - and as the sticker says 'be nice to me' - but if you can spare a little extra niceness in view of my stupidity that would be much appreciated.