The Missing Notepad

Yes, the missing notepad. The notepad I carried everywhere with me. We had our conversations in it; our shopping lists, house-letting plan of action, room measurements, blog notes, and anything else we needed to jot down in a hurry. I didn’t notice the moment it slipped from view – just one day I reached into my wheelie bag and wasn’t there.

“I must have left it at home,” I said, and we made do by recording our latest café conversation on the back of an old letter – all about how the queue was longer than there were tables; the two ladies next to us had finished their coffee half an hour ago and hadn’t ordered anything else. I wasn’t worried about the notepad yet – it would be languishing on the coffee table at home.

Except it wasn’t.

OK, so it wasn’t on the coffee table, and it wasn’t on Mum’s desk, and it wasn’t on my desk – so I must have left it at my own house. It would be lying there on the dining table surrounded by measuring tapes and sofa catalogues.

Except it wasn’t.

I couldn’t have looked properly at Mum’s place – it would have fallen on the floor beneath the sofa, or be in a pile of books or magazines swept to one side. But I was getting worried. It was starting to look as though I had left it somewhere. On a coffee table in Starbucks? On a shop display sofa far away in Tumbleton? Being auctioned off in the auction hall? Horrible thought.

“When did you last see your notebook?” I asked myself. Friday afternoon in the carpet shop. It couldn’t have been lost anywhere else, as I hadn’t gone anywhere else since then except between my house and Mum’s.

We finally went to the carpet shop five days after we last visited. Usually there is just one man there, but today he had been joined by two or three others, one of them the owner of the shop.

“Have you seen a purple noteb…?”
“Oh yes, here it is. I found it sitting up here on the counter.”
“Thank you,” we said, backing away from their grins.

You know, they had Mum’s address; she bought two batches of lino from them recently. I was wondering why they didn’t ring up and say “you left your notebook.” We could have been searching for it all over (more than we were). Do you think they just tucked it away without looking at it, or did they read the whole thing from cover to cover?

They would have found snippets like:

The ‘kernel panic’ is connected with the being told to restart.

Need glue for bin numbers

— I hate to see anything trapped – even flies.
— Those flies hatched in there. It’s all they know.

Eyes like agates.

I told him there are things at the bottom of that linen basket that could have lived in the Black Lagoon.

— You are still looking for one for you – not for scaly tenants.
— Not necessarily. If it’s right colour, comfy, big but not too big, nice shape and not too expensive… that’d suit scaly tenants.

I said to (Big Sister) she would look more the part of the Viking than the stripling they were using.

Did I tell you what (Big Sister) said once – caused one to think ‘ooh’ for a minute. She wakened up and we were flying through thick cloud, and said – very loudly – “why have we stopped?”

Small shop, big plate. Darn.

Bluebird’s silver lining is ripped.

— Is this one of those shops where I can hear and you can’t?
— The worst noise is the fridge unit.

— Would our night watchman have been any good?
— The best one we had was when you were a baby. He had a bow and arrow and spent the night in a tree.

Could have been a lot worse. But never let your notepad go for a ramble – you never know whose hands it might fall into.

Comments for this entry (during its previous life on Blogigo):

1. Iain wrote at Sep 22, 2007 at 04:58: Oh, you’ve got to make extracts from the notebook a regular feature!

2. kateblogs wrote at Sep 22, 2007 at 15:10: Ooh yes, it sounds fascinating! I mean your usual posts are too, but I love that kind of randomness. You could use your entries as writers’ prompts. – even now I have a tiny spark of an idea for a story involving the fly conversation.

3. Diddums wrote at Sep 23, 2007 at 01:43: We’ll see. :-). I unleashed a second notepad while the earlier one was missing, so now we have two of them on the go – also various bits of paper sitting around.

Kate, I’m curious to see what your fly story will be – will it have Jeff Goldblum in it?

4. Pacian wrote at Sep 23, 2007 at 15:41: No-one can see my notebook. It is secret! >:-(

5. Diddums wrote at Sep 23, 2007 at 23:03: Till you lose it in a carpet shop…

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2 responses

  1. […] The Missing Notepad: “We had our conversations in it; our shopping lists, house-letting plan of action, room measurements, blog notes, and anything else we needed to jot down in a hurry. I didn’t notice the moment it slipped from view – just one day I reached into my wheelie bag and wasn’t there.” […]

  2. […] looking at carpets and linos, tending towards lino again. We were in the carpet shop yesterday (the one where I left my notepad behind) and I was expecting a lovely time browsing around for some exciting brand new flooring… […]

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