I Take It All Back

July 16, 2007 at 2:23 am (Uncategorized)

Every nasty thing I was thinking about my fellow residents. Every curse I muttered under my breath as I retraced my steps. Every scowl I shot the staff at the store where I had last seen my wallet. I take it all back, and apologise unreservedly for ever doubting the general good nature of other people. In this case, their honesty went untested, because it turns out my wallet was never lost.

On Saturday, a full eight days since I’d last held it in my hands, I was readying for our excursion to Randwick for Evo’s birthday lunch. I have a bag and hat rack above my dressing table, and some of my handbags live inside their own protective bags. Yes, it’s all very Russian Doll around here. So I reached into one of these protective bags to remove my handbag elect – a lovely example I bought in Siena in Italy whilst we were in the short-lived but divine midst of sparing no expense. Oh, happy days. And instead of finding my soft leather bag, my fingers curled around something smaller but still familiar. My wallet.

I have no idea how I came to place my wallet in a handbag protector. No idea. My rack is a kind of wall mount – reaching up to get my wallet in there would have been quite an awkward thing to do. Besides which, there is no conceivable reason for me to have done it. It would be like putting my wallet in the freezer. Actually, I thought the latter likelier – the freezer was included in my wallet search, but the protectors were not. I remember glancing at them, hesitating, and then thinking “No, don’t be ridiculous.” I stand before you: ridiculous.

So I got my two hundred bucks back, which we promptly spent like it was “free money.” A win. Some kind of windfall instead of simply our grocery money. Having accepted its loss, its recovery seemed to change its status. We spent it and everything else we could lay our hands on at the wonderful degustation birthday lunch for Evo at Randwick’s Bistro Balzac, which then became drinks afterwards, which then became cabs elsewhere to other bars, which then became a rather late night. The two hundred bucks was just absorbed into the mix, but knowing where it came from did make the spending just a little sweeter. Of course, we’re broke again now, but Saturday was a great day with some of our best friends, and I wouldn’t have held back that two hundred bucks for all the groceries in the world. Quite frankly, I’d rather eat canned tomato soup for a fortnight after dining at Bistro Balzac than not dine there at all.

Anyway, I have my Tokyo wallet back. Nobody stole it. Nobody fleeced me. I should never have doubted my neighbours – I should have known it was me all along.



  1. Tim said,

    Hi Di,

    That must mean it’s your birthday? Happy, birthday, and sorry that my memory is so bad that I forgot. It sounds like you had a good one. I have also been to Balzac, which was one of the best meals I’ve ever had (and this coming from a man who once ate tomatoes on toast for a month!) One thing I really remember about the place was that they bought us a plate of beans – yep, good ole boring green beans – and something about them was utterly sublime. I’ve tried and tried to recreate whatever the hell they did to those goddamn beans, but I doubt I’ll ever get close.

    Tim x

  2. doctordi said,

    No, no, not my birthday, Evo’s. I’m a September baby just like you, Tim. And yes, if you recall it was I who recommended Balzac to you all those many moons ago! I’m glad the beans were so superlative…I’d say their superiority had something to do with butter. That’s usually the explanation in my experience. Butter and salt. Mmmmmm….

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