Perhaps you are searching for reasons to be cheerful at the end of what has been a particularly dispiriting year? In that case, read on. In November, I was on a train travelling into London. When I got off the train and headed for the ticket barrier, I realised I didn’t have my wallet. I knew that I had it when I boarded. I made an undignified scrabble and search through my coat, jacket and trouser pockets that deserved the comic skills of a Charlie Chaplin or Jacques Tati. There was, though, no mistake. I had somehow managed to leave my wallet on the train.
A nice station attendant took the details and said he would pass the message down the line. I left him my mobile number. But it was rush hour, the man pointed out, and the chances of getting the wallet back had probably vanished with the departing train. Meanwhile I rang my bank and eventually succeeded in cancelling my cards. I felt horribly stupid, old and embarrassed. I went for a drink with friends and felt sorry for myself.
