Friday 23 March 2012 – Yesterday I took a stroll into town to sort out setting up a new UK bank account. My iPod was in pocket and with the midday sun warming me, Slave sang ‘Stella Fungk’.
My first port of call was the post office, to investigate what accounts they had to offer. After standing for twenty minutes in a queue I gave up. I dropped into the Nat West, spoke to Abby behind the counter and five minutes later, I was leaving with an appointment made for Tuesday at 11.00, to set up the new account.
On the way back home, for no reason I can give, I walked into a scruffy looking charity shop. I was drawn to the large collection of books on its shelves. Tucked in the corner was a small collection of Italian books. I like old books about Italian cooking or the language, and here there was three old teach yourself Italian books. I asked how much the books were, and after looking at them the assistant said, “They’ve been there for so long, you can have all three for fifty pence.” I gave her a pound coin, and told her to keep the change.
I walked home with Snow Patrol playing the imaginatively named ‘Days Without Paracetamol’ from the equally imaginatively named album, Songs for Polar Bears.
Later in the afternoon I pick up the books and skim through the pages, and inside one of them is a crisp twenty pound note. After a trip to the bank to change it for the new ones that are legal tender, I now have a problem: Do I keep it or do I take it back to the shop?
If I do take it back, will they give me my fifty pence donation back?