On Saturday I'm going skiing. People who know me well, may think that this is a bad idea, for Nick's weather lore suggests that I will be using my considerable-amount-per-day holiday to sit in bars, and watch lizards skip through the spring flowers (rather like my Winter mountaineering course several decades ago).
There was a potential glitch, I had to submit my passport details in order to become a bona-fide passenger, this turned out to be a most useful pre-departure exercise: vis - where was my passport? I'd used it for a pre-Christmas paramour (failed) jaunt to Belgium, and then had moved about three days later. Where the fu.... on Earth could it be now?
First check the files with fiscal and other important details, my late Mother's defunct building society books - yes, passport - no. Death certificates - various - yes, passport - no. Guide to Bryce Canyon and piste maps from Lake Tahoe, Keystone, Breckenridge and Vail -yes (I haven't been to Bryce Canyon or even Utah -though it is, of course, named after me Dad), passport - no!
A small panic, a tiny squirt from the beans above my kidneys. Pockets and bags from trip to Belgium, bottle opener - yes, map of Ghent (creased and marked by frost damage) - yes, unused contraceptives ( also frost-damaged, but only mentally) - yes, passport - no.
A bigger squirt, I was now moving to the arcane. I picked up the box-of-all-hope, the repository of treasured possessions complete with custodian, and opened the lid. Teddy looked back at me... passportless!
"For Gods' sake Teddy what do you think you're playing at! What on Earth have you done with my passport, why do you not have it, surely I'd have left it with you - Captain, my Captain?"
Blind panic set in, I searched below Teddy, in case I'd left it with one of the others, Dog, Lion, Rabbit, HyperGrouch, but no, the feckless bastards had abandoned me! Why, Oh, Why, had I not kept Panda, slow, reliable, trustworthy Panda, even the Trolls may have done a better job at a pinch?
Anguish now, "Teddy!"
He just looked, a non-committal, non-judgemental buttony stare, but I could see behind it, I could sense the recrimination, the "I'm not your keeper, just start looking after yourself, I won't be around to look after you forever, it's about time you took responsibility for your own actions", glazed gaze.
"Alright!" Chastened I turned to a box marked "Bric-a-brac" the contents of the top drawer of the small chest-of-drawers: old watches, old specs, cufflinks, badges declaring London a "nuclear-free zone", "rock against racism" and "I'm not a tourist, I live here" in Welsh (modesty forbids me mentioning the "I taught John Travolta to dance" badge), there under the bathing hat (for swimming in former Eastern Bloc countries - interesting; in France you are not allowed to wear shorts in a swimming pool, and in Hungary you have to wear a hat, there's a message there somewhere, but I fail to comprehend it), THERE under the bathing hat, was my beautiful passport.
As my heart rate dimmed I turned to Teddy and apologised, I thought he looked rather smug, so I left him in the box, I think he probably hid it to teach me a lesson, a lesson well-learned, put your passport somewhere obvious, like in the knife drawer.
