Lost and Found
It all started when I went to the hospital.
I had to go to Newcastle General Hospital in Fenham for an X-ray appointment. I didn't wanna take a taxi there 'cause taxis are stupidly expensive here and the place isn't far from where I live. So I set off after the lecture that ended at 15:00.
I walked up the path behind Leazes Park, up Stanhope Road (it's tiringly long), around Brighton Grove and boom! I was there.
There, I found out that the appointment would have to be postponed because their doctor was away.
I was walking back the way I came and decided to go into one of the many shops on the road. Fenham is flooded with desi people and their businesses, and the shop I walked into was most certainly owned by a desi. I could tell by the smell of the masalas.
Anyway.. after debating with myself for about three minutes, I finally picked up a huge jar of olives and then a carton of milk, 'cause we were all out of cow juice at home. I took my wallet out and paid with a fiver, slipped the change in my front pocket, put the stuff in my [recyclabe =)] bags and set off. The I stopped at this supermarket called 'Iceland' and bought a couple of loaves of bread, 'cause we were running out of those too. I paid for them with the change in my pocket.
I decided to go to the medical school first, instead of going home, because I wanted to check my score and grade for yesterday's exam [more on that later!]. I was a few meters outside the medical school's doors when I groped my back pocket and didn't feel the familiar bulge that my wallet usually makes. I immediately panicked. I rushed inside, checked my score, then ran back home. I put all the groceries away and sifted through my bags to check if I'd accidentally put the wallet in there.
When I couldn't find it anywhere, I decided to run back to Fenham, to that old fellow's shop where I'd bought the olives and the milk and ask if I'd left my wallet there.
I ran up the path behind Leazes Park, up Stanhope Road and 'round the corner of Brighton Grove and then into the shop. I asked there, but they said they hadn't seen it anywhere. Then I went to Iceland to check, even though I knew I hadn't paid with any money from my wallet there. When they told me that there was no wallet there, I walked home, dejected.
I texted Ammi to tell Papa to cancel my credit card in Dubai. When I got home, I called my bank, Lloyds, to tell them I'd lost my wallet so they could cancel my debit card. I called my parents this time to ask them to cancel my credit card and then they called me back 'cause I didn't have much money in my phone. I cried on the phone, even though there was nothing to really worry about because the important things had been done and there was no more than £1.50 in the wallet, along with some dirhams from home and a dollar bill for good luck. Hearing Ammi say comforting things over the phone, but not being able to see her or feel her physically was what pained me and I welled up. I dunno, I just felt overwhelmed, you know?
Anyways. I tried to concentrate on other things like studying the anatomy of the heart for tomorrow's dissection - the second one this week! Soon enough, and just as Papa had predicted, somebody called to say that they had my wallet. It was the keeper of a shop and someone had found the wallet in his shop and given it to him. I told him I'd meet him at his shop in 15 minutes.
I ran up the path behind Leazes Park, up Stanhope Road, huffing and puffing. He called me again and I told him I couldn't find his shop so he guided me. It turned out that his was the Pound Shop which I'd walked into, looked around and not bought anything from. He was quite nice, he kept his shop open almost an hour past its closing time so I could come and collect my wallet, and spent his phone credit on calling me.
I asked him if there was anything I could do to repay him, 'cause I was just so grateful. "No," he said, predictably, "if I lost my wallet, I know I would expect it to be returned to me."
I was so happy that I'd got my wallet back that I went into a desi sweets shop and bought a couple of jalaybees. The boy who sold them to me was oh-so-cute, with a twinkle in his eye.
In other, good news, I did quite well on my exam yesterday. It was made up entirely of multiple choice questions, over 100 questions. We were given two and a half hours for it. I'd prepared quite a lot for this exam and I was unpleasantly surprised to see questions about using the library catalog to search for items and some about whom to send a poor anorexic girl to for help. WTF! What a waste of time, really.
I got 77.85%, which is classed as an 'M' [Merit] grade. The range for Merit is wider than my grandma's pajamas, as you can see, but hey I'm in.. so I shouldn't complain!
I had to go to Newcastle General Hospital in Fenham for an X-ray appointment. I didn't wanna take a taxi there 'cause taxis are stupidly expensive here and the place isn't far from where I live. So I set off after the lecture that ended at 15:00.
I walked up the path behind Leazes Park, up Stanhope Road (it's tiringly long), around Brighton Grove and boom! I was there.
There, I found out that the appointment would have to be postponed because their doctor was away.
I was walking back the way I came and decided to go into one of the many shops on the road. Fenham is flooded with desi people and their businesses, and the shop I walked into was most certainly owned by a desi. I could tell by the smell of the masalas.
Anyway.. after debating with myself for about three minutes, I finally picked up a huge jar of olives and then a carton of milk, 'cause we were all out of cow juice at home. I took my wallet out and paid with a fiver, slipped the change in my front pocket, put the stuff in my [recyclabe =)] bags and set off. The I stopped at this supermarket called 'Iceland' and bought a couple of loaves of bread, 'cause we were running out of those too. I paid for them with the change in my pocket.
I decided to go to the medical school first, instead of going home, because I wanted to check my score and grade for yesterday's exam [more on that later!]. I was a few meters outside the medical school's doors when I groped my back pocket and didn't feel the familiar bulge that my wallet usually makes. I immediately panicked. I rushed inside, checked my score, then ran back home. I put all the groceries away and sifted through my bags to check if I'd accidentally put the wallet in there.
When I couldn't find it anywhere, I decided to run back to Fenham, to that old fellow's shop where I'd bought the olives and the milk and ask if I'd left my wallet there.
I ran up the path behind Leazes Park, up Stanhope Road and 'round the corner of Brighton Grove and then into the shop. I asked there, but they said they hadn't seen it anywhere. Then I went to Iceland to check, even though I knew I hadn't paid with any money from my wallet there. When they told me that there was no wallet there, I walked home, dejected.
I texted Ammi to tell Papa to cancel my credit card in Dubai. When I got home, I called my bank, Lloyds, to tell them I'd lost my wallet so they could cancel my debit card. I called my parents this time to ask them to cancel my credit card and then they called me back 'cause I didn't have much money in my phone. I cried on the phone, even though there was nothing to really worry about because the important things had been done and there was no more than £1.50 in the wallet, along with some dirhams from home and a dollar bill for good luck. Hearing Ammi say comforting things over the phone, but not being able to see her or feel her physically was what pained me and I welled up. I dunno, I just felt overwhelmed, you know?
Anyways. I tried to concentrate on other things like studying the anatomy of the heart for tomorrow's dissection - the second one this week! Soon enough, and just as Papa had predicted, somebody called to say that they had my wallet. It was the keeper of a shop and someone had found the wallet in his shop and given it to him. I told him I'd meet him at his shop in 15 minutes.
I ran up the path behind Leazes Park, up Stanhope Road, huffing and puffing. He called me again and I told him I couldn't find his shop so he guided me. It turned out that his was the Pound Shop which I'd walked into, looked around and not bought anything from. He was quite nice, he kept his shop open almost an hour past its closing time so I could come and collect my wallet, and spent his phone credit on calling me.
I asked him if there was anything I could do to repay him, 'cause I was just so grateful. "No," he said, predictably, "if I lost my wallet, I know I would expect it to be returned to me."
I was so happy that I'd got my wallet back that I went into a desi sweets shop and bought a couple of jalaybees. The boy who sold them to me was oh-so-cute, with a twinkle in his eye.
In other, good news, I did quite well on my exam yesterday. It was made up entirely of multiple choice questions, over 100 questions. We were given two and a half hours for it. I'd prepared quite a lot for this exam and I was unpleasantly surprised to see questions about using the library catalog to search for items and some about whom to send a poor anorexic girl to for help. WTF! What a waste of time, really.
I got 77.85%, which is classed as an 'M' [Merit] grade. The range for Merit is wider than my grandma's pajamas, as you can see, but hey I'm in.. so I shouldn't complain!