Posted tagged ‘Property’

Treasures lost…and found

August 8, 2011

Pets, children and mothers say the funniest things. “You’d lose your head if it weren’t screwed on” being a favourite of mums everywhere. Dodgy anatomical design structures excluded, why is the head singled out to be the lost part? Why not the bigger, better statement: “You’d lose your body if it wasn’t riveted on.” Definitely, a case of the heart ruling the head.

As you know I’ve been years perfecting the musical I’m writing. In my head I was harmonising the scratchy rhythms of Bach with tinkles of Glass when I exited the bus last week. Disastrously, I had left my tuba behind. Understandable really, I mean when you get off a bus and check your things, you never say “I must remember the tuba” now do you?

The next day I ventured to the lost property department at the bus depot. I was told there was no tuba on the premises and to try the subway instead. I was brassed off. There are only about five people in the world that can play the tuba. Who would want a tuba? I espied all the other items, paraphernalia and appurtenances, lying unclaimed on the cluttered shelves. In this lost world a full-size replica of a complete skeleton of a Tyrannosaurus Rex stood menacingly in an aisle. I can just picture a curator waking up and exclaiming- one of our dinosaurs is missing.

Another hullabaloo happened when I left my Daily Telegraph in the pub. Next day I asked the owner if a Guardian of the mighty print medium had handed the paper in. Nup. Nothing. Stolen. How can these people look at themselves in the mirror?

By this time my sunny disposition had evaporated as now out in the street rain clouds broke forth, fifth, sixth and seventh from the heavens. Shelter was found in the nearby train station and I expressed in with a drenched member of the human race by my side. I took a seat on a bench while my fellow from the flood fled to the lost property section. He asked if anybody had found an umbrella. What colour, asked the man in charge. Black. Yeah, we’ve got a black. What an opportunistic strike! Now with a deterrent from the rain, my ex-companion braved the inclement weather.

Four hours later as it dried I ended up at my mother’s to find her in an absent mind. My sister was on holiday and left her cat in my mum’s house for cat sitting purposes. Mum couldn’t find the cat. It was nowhere to be seen. She had lost the cat.

Cagily, we searched all over as this cat had attitude. On being surprised it was known to spring at a space invader. It was a tigress in all but name. There was no way a cat burglar had intruded; the feline was hiding for keeps.
Searching high
Searching low
In the light
In the shadow
Come hell or high water
We (scan it, man) sought her.

Here, there, everywhere. Yep, you’ve cat ‘o nine tails’d it. This farce was a comedy of clichés.

There was none so blind as us until a slinky, sleekit, boss-like “top cat in the slats” silhouette appeared behind the window blinds. Lost threat status downgraded or so we thought. My dad appeared, fresh or not so fresh as his whisky breath was omnipotent, from his local bar. After patting the top of his soldered on head he said “I’ve lost my hat somewhere”. Poor soul, at least he remembered the way home.


This Rex is as old as my dad. Note the screwed on hatless Jurassic head.