Welcome to London. Not.
My third night in London and the following two crappy things happen:
1. My purse is stolen at a pub on the South bank.
2. As Nicole, her friend Iain and I leave the pub to find a police station to report the theft, Nicole receives a call from a flatmate. Turns out her flat has been broken into and pretty much ransacked the same night. It was an unfortunate coincidence.
I have cancelled my credit cards and my bank card. Luckily, I do not carry my passport out with me and most of my cash was in my room where I'm staying, though I'm out £40 and $30Cdn, which I might be able to get back from insurance. I was quite pissed to lose my 7-day Tube/Rail/Bus pass, which still had four days on it, and my ISIC card, which I went to a lot of trouble to get. I will also have to replace my university ID once I get home. I've spent the last 22 hours day mentally running through the contents of my purse, trying to figure out what I'm missing. Nat and Daorcey, the nice little notebook you gave me for my birthday was a casualty. Unfortunately, it also had some notes from a house I'd visited earlier that day that I had not yet transcribed to my computer. I also lost my house keys (for both here and Edmonton), but luckily someone in Edmonton has a spare set.
Otherwise, it has been a good trip so far, though it took me a while to get over the jetlag. Thursday I went to the Victoria & Albert museum (thought I'd take it easy), Friday I went to Osterley (I just realized that the photo on that webpage is of the back of the house!) and today I saw the Hogarth Exhibition at the Tate Britain. As I left this afternoon to see the exhibition, which I've been looking forward to for weeks, I must admit that I felt kind of naked without a bag of any kind.
Also, last night I learned that in Britain, "purse" means "wallet" while "handbag" indicates what Canadians would call a "purse." Something new everyday.
Posted 8:26 p.m. GMT
5 comments:
Crappy about the purse. Luckily you don't have to worry about the passport too much. And poor Nicole.
Hope the thief enjoys the Moleskin.
What I forgot to mention was that my purse also contained Nicole's old cell phone, that she had leant me. She called the cell and talked to the thief a few times, trying to get my stuff back. We stopped when he wanted £100 for my keys.
shitty
dare I ask about the camera?
Oh my GOD! OH MY GOD!!!! I'm speechless, and I thought being MSN-less was a great tragedy... I'm hoping computer was safe and sound? I can't believe the thief actually answered the phone...although it was a common eighteenth-century trick for thieves to offer their services to "find" lost items for a fee when they in fact had stolen them in the first place....Okay, I'm a geek...
The camera is fine. Fortunately, I was taking photos on the walk across the river and had slid the little camera into my pocket, where it stayed. I'm particulary thankful because there were Osterley photos on the memory card that I hadn't downloaded yet. Computer was at home at the time, too. Otherwise things would have been really bad.
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