Be Careful What You Wish For

Once, when I was at university or at school (or some point in my life where responsibility was someone else's, well, responsibility), I had a conversation with a bunch of friends about where the most fun place to be stranded would be. I chose a Alton Towers, or Thorpe Park.

Yesterday a couple of friends/ colleagues and I went to Thorpe Park.

We'd already gotten off to a shaky start in the morning: Elles had accidentally slept in after a busy few days (to be woken up by Kat who was meeting her at her house). The fourth person who was originally going with us cancelled last minute, which threw our budgeting plans off a little (no-one ever goes to Thorpe Park or Alton Towers without a 2 for 1 deal handy). The parking metre in the car park I was using would only start working at a certain time of day, so even though I was organised and got there early I had to sit in my car and wait until the coin slot in the machine opened before I could go anywhere. Once we all got into Elles' car though, it seemed that it was plane sailing from then on.

As we got out of the car and made out way through the entrance of Thorpe Park, we joked about how we felt like kids again. "Make sure you stay with the group and hold someone's hand," teased Kat as I bounced around excitedly. We all made sure we knew where our valuables were, we had waterproof jackets for the water rides, and we felt pretty much sorted.

We put a couple of things in the lockers, and off we went. The first ride we went on was Colossus. The second one was X. As we got to the cloakroom area of X, Elles took her jacket off since it was getting a bit warm, and gave it in. At the end of the ride, we collected all our stuff and emerged to decide which rollercoaster to go on next.

Suddenly Elles stopped dead.

"Guys, where's all my change gone?"

There were five pound coins in her jacket when we entered the park- now they were all gone. Elles patted herself down to try and find the change, worrying that she'd been pick-pocketed... and she suddenly realised her car key had gone, too.

None of us live anywhere near Thorpe Park. Worst of all was that all of poor Elles' stuff- the rest of her money, her house keys, her bag- was all locked up in her car.

We felt cold: what could have happened? Both of Elles' pockets were zipped shut. Could one of the guys working the cloakrooms have taken it as a prank? One of them was a bit cheeky to Elles when she took her coat off, but it was very unlikely that a member of staff could have taken it- and bizarrely, her phone was still in the pocket. Could the key have fallen out on a ride? But both of the pockets were closed. It seemed most likely to us that the keys had gone missing around the time we were at X, since that was the only time the jacket had been moved.

After retracing our steps as thoroughly as we could (while trying to be grateful that we'd only been on two rides before we discovered the loss), We went to customer services and filled out a form, and handed it to a guy who gave off an air of seeing this sort of stuff happening all the time, and probably thinking what a brainless bunch of girls we were. We were then told that we had to wait until the evening when the park closed before a search could be carried out. If the keys didn't turn up, the car would have to be left overnight and we'd have to find our own ways home. In the meantime, there was nothing we could do- except have as much fun as possible. So, since we were stuck there for the whole day until closing time, this is exactly what we did.

When closing time came, we went back to Customer Services. Nothing had been handed in, and we were advised to ask the attendants at the rides themselves. We went to X first, almost certain that this was the place to find the keys- but despite the lovely staff looking high and low, there was nothing.

The only alternative thing that could have happened, then, was that the car key- along with the now-forgotten change- must have worked its way out of a gap in Elles' zipped-up pocket whilst we zooming around on Colossus. Which meant that it could have been flung absolutely anywhere. We asked the staff there anyway- who were also amazing- and they set out to do a sweep under the ride for us. In the meantime, we looked around the public footpath leading to the ride.

Between the three of us, Kat, Elles and I found all manner of lost items that had fallen afoul of the ride- lip balm, eyeliner, a badge, even glasses- but no keys. Resigned to having to fork out for a cab home, we made our way back to the entrance of the ride, where we were met by some people on the team who had finished their side of the search. No-one had found anything- and we hadn't expected them to, either. Then we heard a voice from behind us.

"You lost BMW keys, right?"

The other half of the team had come back from their sweep. One of the guys held aloft a single car key: Elles' car key.

There was a lot of squealing, jumping and hugging, and Elles even kissed her key. The key had quite literally been found amongst the bushes under the ride: so it had fallen out of the jacket, after all. In the end, we got to go home by car, everybody got their stuff back, and all was well.

You could say that the moral of the story is to be careful with your possessions- but then again we were, and Elles had actually double-checked that her pockets were zipped up. I reckon the real moral of the story here is that zips are fickle buggers and you should never trust them.

Oh, and about Thorpe Park being the most fun place to be stuck at? I was right.

~Fin~

Serious Business: Mouse to Manticore in Eight Years

This is the story of my crystal necklace.

Everyone who knows me knows I wear a single AB Swarovski crystal drop on a silver chain. Everyone who knows me well enough knows that I wear it every day, and everyone who knows me better knows to avoid buying me jewellery because I've worn it every day since I bought it and little else. Some people know that I've worn it for eight years, from when I bought it in Venice.

The only thing about the necklace that has stayed the same over the years is the crystal: the chain has been replaced about five times, the clasp about six; I've even replaced the bail that loops the crystal to the chain. Even though the only surviving part of the original necklace is the crystal, I still view it as the same necklace. Like my watch (another item that's almost like a part of me), I put it on every morning on autopilot, not really thinking about it.

On Boxing Day, it went missing. I haven't seen it since.

I remember wearing it on Christmas Day, and taking it off with my watch when every time I opened the oven to check on my roast it heated up and burned me. I remember putting it on the coffee table with my watch. I don't remember putting either back on, nor taking either off before bedtime as usual, nor putting both on in the morning as usual. All I know is that when I came back from the shops on Boxing Day afternoon, I was wearing my watch, but my neck was bare.

I bought it in 2004, during my school's music school tour to Venice (I sang in the choir and played the flute in two other groups). We had a free day before a concert in the evening and were milling around the shops and markets of the city. In a shop full of trinkets and tat, there was a small stand on a table next to the checkout with a few odd necklaces going for a couple of Euros hanging off of it. Like a magpie, my eyes instantly caught the rainbow sparkliness of the single drop crystal necklace, and I bought it. I've always liked the rainbow effect of AB crystals (probably because my birthstone is opal) and around that time I was constantly wearing cubic AB crystal earrings, so this necklace matched perfectly. I ended up wearing the necklace long after I stopped wearing those earrings.

It was also around that time I had stopped becoming almost cripplingly shy and only a little bit shy. I had gone through the first few years of secondary school as quiet as a mouse, swinging from being unable to make friends to being in the middle of upsetting situations when I eventually did make them; more upsetting than your average teenager has to face (which can be tricky enough as it is). Now I was beginning to find my roar. Okay, so it was a quiet, almost apologetic roar, but still a roar. By 2004, which was when I was sitting my GCSE exams, I was talking to people more often. I think my necklace became a kind of amulet, almost like a lucky charm (even though I don't believe in them): something I subconsciously associated with this time of life and the gradual change in me. It symbolised that the bad and sad times were over, and that I was slowly but surely on my way up in the world: and so I wore it every day, only hanging it up to rest when ill, asleep or in costume.

I've lost it once before- it was about three years ago when I was still at university. I was heartbroken, and searched high and low for it. It turned up later in the day tangled at the back of my hair: the chain had snapped, and it and the crystal had luckily snarled themselves in my curls. I knew deep down I'd find it, though- quite often when I lose something I'll feel panicked, but if I'm liable to find it again I'll know at the back of my mind.

This time was different though: as soon as I went to twirl the crystal around my fingers- a habit I've picked up after the numerous years, and probably a contributing factor to my loss- and found it missing, I knew immediately: that was that. Maybe that's why although I was upset- of course I was upset- I wasn't heartbroken this time. I'd already accepted that one day I'd lose it forever when the chain finally snapped whilst I was out.

What has this got to do with the New Year? Well, it seems fitting to me that I should lose my amulet, my symbol of the New Me, days before a new year, and in particular this year- 2012 is the year of extreme ups and downs: my first heartbreak/ breakup with my first boyfriend (well... technically the second, but I don't really count the two months we got back together for after the first breakup); one of my closest friends getting married to another good friend; losing a total of two stone and feeling fantastic; the months of struggle to find a job; finding a job; going to Australia... many things and many more that have shaped me significantly yet again. I suppose I have changed again, because I also felt a weird relief at losing my necklace- there's no longer any sense of automatic obligation every morning to don my amulet. To sound incredibly melodramatic, I'm free from my past: because even though my necklace was a symbol of me changing for the better, it was also a symbol of the mud I had to wade through to get to that point.

I'm still nerdy and geeky, still a tad socially awkward* and still, at times, a smidge on the shy side (not always though- recently I went up to a total stranger in town to ask him why he was wearing a Banana Man costume to advertise online dating- hey, I really had to know**), but no longer a mouse.

So. New year, new necklace? I'm not going to get an exact replacement, and I don't think I'll ever have something that I wear day in, day out again. A shame opals are so pricey... I'd rather like a faceted Ethiopian welo opal (hint hint, for any randomly generous and wealthy passing reader! A girl can dream, right?) In the meantime, I do need a new everyday necklace I suppose. My magpie senses are tingling...

A very happy new year to you all- here's to all the changes that make us, us. Let's made 2013 amazing!

* As is apparent in almost every post in this blog- although I have a feeling being British has a lot to do with it, too

** He told me miserably, 'My manager told me it'd attract more attention.' Well... I suppose I can't fault that.