Monday, 1 September 2008
This morning, midway between two long and precariously timed journeys, my phone was stolen out of my hand. The person I was talking to had to listen to shouts, cursing, and then I imagine a crash followed by dead silence. My first thought was to rush home and tell them I was fine. My second thought (which I acted on) was to rush after the thief, who was of course long gone. My third thought was to yell at the station security staff - this I did too. Then the train I'd been waiting for arrived, and the only thought I had was to jump on it and finish off what I'd started. I figured I'd phone when I got to my destination.
So while I sat fuming on the train, and congratulating myself a little bit that I was still going to Get Things Done, other people were scrabbling round frantically trying to find out where I was and whether I was alright.
I finally did let people know that I was fine, but not after they'd wasted tons of time and energy. Now I'm sitting here feeling quite shocked at how inconsiderate I was.
I'm also very grateful that I know people who care enough to rush around after me.
More about the cake later, but for now all I'll say is that it's delicious and you deserve a mountain of it.