...except the ones that nick your handbag. But before I get onto that, this is the current holder of tackiest souvenir prize - I nearly bought it for Peter but I thought it was too tacky even for him!
Back to the bag. We dropped into the Linen Hall library to see if we could get any more family info. We found a map showing the street great gran was born on, which used to back onto the railway tracks in Belfast but was bulldozed years ago, and a directory that listed the household heads at the time.
Just before the library closed I popped over to copy the pages, and foolishly left my bag in the corner out of view behind the stacks - in my defence there was only me and the librarian left, and libraries are usually such civilised places (!). When I got back two minutes later it had vanished. Luckily I had my wallet with me, but my camera and my passport were in the bag.
The librarians were helpful but kept pointing out the signs that said not to leave your belongings unattended, just to rub in how dumb I'd been. I rang the police for a crime number (they said they'd send someone round to check the CCTV, which would never happen at home!) and I was just starting to plan what to do with my extended holiday, while I waited for a new passport, when Mark texted. Someone had called him and said they had my passport and bag; news to him, I hadn't got round to telling him I'd lost it. Some kind bus driver had found my bag and instead of chucking it in the lost property cupboard like they do in London had thought to ring the contact number in my passport. Cue a quick dash to the bus office to collect it before they closed for the weekend.
I don't get to stay an extra week, and some idiot is laughing at my holiday snaps as we speak, but at least I have a good excuse to buy a new camera. Who'd have thought the library was a hotbed of crime? Proves it's the quiet ones you have to watch.
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