There are many times in life where we look at events around us (or happening to us) and think that if there really is such a thing as Karma, or Fate, then it’s got its sense of perspective (or humour) right out of whack. A Karma comedian. Khar-har-har-ma, if you will.
On Saturday, we took the twins to London to the London Aquarium on the South Bank of the Thames, right next to the London Eye. We timed it perfectly: they had their morning sleep in the car on the way there, had plenty of time to see all the big fish, they ate their lunch by the Thames watching all the street entertainers, and then Mummy and Daddy had just enough time to grab a salad and a soup pot from Eat before going back to the car, where the twins would have their lunchtime sleep for most of the drive home.
Needless to say, they absolutely loved it.
As the rain arrived and poured down upon us, we arrived back at the underground car park by the Festival Hall, and started to unload the kids into the car. I suddenly realised that I didn’t have my satchel bag. Yes, I know you’re surprised that a man of such machismo as myself has a Man Bag, but it was holding the big digital SLR camera, the flash unit, some spare clothes for the kids, a couple of toy cars (for them, I hasten to add), and most importantly my mobile phone, house keys and second car key.
The blood drained from my face. J looked on, dumbfounded. “What is it?” she asked. I didn’t even have time to answer. “Brown bag…restaurant…stolen!” I yelled, as I sprinted up the slope out of the underground car park and back into the rain.
After only about five minutes of lungbusting running, I realised that despite losing the stone and a half, I was still a long way from fit! But I couldn’t stop – I didn’t want to lose the camera and it would have been a real nightmare having to get all the keys re-cut, and I don’t know how I’d survive without my phone!
I reached Eat, breathing heavily, soaked to the skin, looking frazzled, to find two young women enjoying peacefully chatting and having their lunch. In between gasps and coughs, I blurted out a question as to whether they’d seen a bag, and the middle-aged woman sitting at the table behind (who had been there as we left) leant forward and smiled and said that she’d taken it inside and handed it to someone. If my legs hadn’t felt like someone had electrocuted them, I would have leapt across the tables and planted a big kiss on her cheek.
As I went in, the woman’s partner, who had got up to go inside as we left, was coming back out again. I was handed my bag by a sceptical-looking manager (I guess I looked a bit of a sight), and paused to thank the woman again on my way past outside.
She smiled, but had that far-away look of distraught on her face. Her partner nodded, and said “She handed your bag in…and someone nicked her handbag off the back of her chair!”
I couldn’t believe it. The cruelty of fate. So that’s the universe’s reward for you doing the decent thing and handing in someone’s bag – you have your own stolen. I didn’t know what to say, other than the usual platitudes and apologies for being such an idiot as to leave mine behind.
It just made me think, ‘why bother with being kind and good, if Karma is just going to dump on you from a big height?’ Karma, you’ve got your dials completely out of kilter if you think that’s a just and fair result.
Tags: bad karma, forgotten bag, good samaritan, handbag, justice, London, stolen, unfair
June 1, 2010 at 12:00 am |
That is a crazy story! I’m so glad you got your Manbag back.
And for the record, Mr. LC carries a Manbag and it has more compartments than my giant purse. He carries spare CD (of his own music just in case he runs into THAT PERSON who will make him a superstar) and other various necessities and can’t really do without. And he’s perfectly maschismo