lproven | Happy birthday to vin

... And, for that matter, me. :¬)

And another glimpse of the wonderfulness of my beloved

the_major. Quite aside from the remarkably cool birthday present of a new engine for my trike, meaning that soon I should have my baby back - just in time for midwinter, yay - and her braving driving from Leicestershire to north Lincolnshire to London to get it, she then drove me to a really enjoyable little party in Worcestershire! I couldn't even help, as it was her mum's car, so I can't readily be put on the insurance.

Then it all went a bit pearshaped.

The car started to struggle on the way back, losing all gears but 4th & briefly an intermittent 3rd - then the clutch started to burn out. So instead of a spot of dinner and a late train home, I got an unexpected night in Market Harborough. But it's a lovely little place and it was all worth it.

So I had a spot of breakfast - a Full Veggie English, which was marvellous - in the town square and caught a train home, sitting in a near-empty carriage writing away furiously on The Book.

And then went off to Tottenham Court Road to check some stuff out for clients. Went to call one to tell them - to discover than I no longer had a mobile phone. Aaaaaaaaaaaargh.

A former colleague of mine in Micro Anvika let me use their phone to try to call mine - it got cancelled after a few rings, suspiciously - and then to notify Vodaphone.

Here comes a good bit. To notify them of a theft, you must do so within 24h. But, if you think you've just lost it, they can't tell you if any calls were made for... between 24h and 72h. So they won't confirm it's stolen until it's too late to report it as stolen. Good work, Vodafone! They couldn't initiate getting me a new phone until I'd got a crime reference number from the police for the theft, if indeed theft it was.

Glumly, I trudged back up to St Pancreas, where they solemnly assured me that nothing was found on the train and by now wouldn't be. He told me that if the staff at this end hadn't handed it in, there was nothing more they could do.

But he let me fill in a report anyway, just in case, while giving me a pitying look. He then sent me off to the police office in King's Cross, which was shut, but they summoned a very pleasant community service person type WPC for me anyway and she took down my details. She rebuked me mildly for not keeping my phone secure, but told me she couldn't give me a crime reference number as I could not confirm that there had in fact been a crime. This could make claiming on the insurance tricky.

So I was a rather sad creature when I got home. I tried to bake a potato for dinner but it was entirely too squishy and suspicious-smelling, so I had couscous and a cup of mint tea and read a good book. It was too late to try to organize a birthday drinkie and I had no mobile to even contact people with and I didn't feel like exploring my backups to extract numbers at this point. Happily Clara was on my recently-dialled-numbers on the landline, but I was not in a cheery mood last night.

Then today she phones me up. "I've found your phone!" she announces cheerily.

Now I know I didn't leave it at hers 'cos I was using it over breakfast in a café and on the train. But no, she's gone to Market Harboro' station in person and badgered them. Apparently, my phone is in Leicester. I am unclear on how it got there on its own or how someone else got further than the phone's own owner, but she did. She works miracles, this lass, and I love her very much indeed.

So. Happy birthday to me, my long-lost twin Vince, and here's to the weekend...