There are five thousand stories in The Bush of Shepherds, and this is one of them. (The picture is another story altogether.) Last week, I found a black Nokia phone on the tube, and since then have been attempting to reunite phone with owner. Unfortunately, the owner of the phone doesn't speak very good English, and so I have been negotiating the terms of return with various of his friends.
Someone rang me last Saturday and I told him I would be free all day Sunday to meet up and hand the phone over. No one rang. Then I had a call Friday morning, and gave someone else my address so that they come and pick it up. It took about twenty minutes to spell out the name of the street, and consequently I suspect no one wrote anything down as no one turned up.
Today, however, I was coming out of the second hand CD shop in Shepherds Bush when my phone rang again.
'It's about this phone, Mr Rob,' the man said. 'We are not sure how far away you are.'
'Where are you now?' I asked.
'Shepherds Bush,' he said.
'So am I,' I said. 'I'll meet you outside Morrisons in five minutes. I'm wearing headphones and a green parkah.'
I'm not sure why I handed out the physical description. There was no one else but me waiting outside Morrisons. In retrospect I regret giving him the short notice as a few minutes later a rather breathless pair of Turkish men staggered round the corner and waved at me.
They were effusively thankful, which was nice. I was a little disappointed that no one suggested sexual favours by way of a reward, but c'est la vie.
The next time I find a phone on the train however, I'm handing it in to someone official and letting them deal with it.
No comments:
Post a Comment