Last year, for my Dad's birthday, I decided I would go to Liverpool to see him but I didn't tell him. I thought it would be more fun to surprise him. For the train journey, I had some food and study books with me as I had a huge peice of work due a week later. One of them I guarded with my life. It was the Blackstone's guide to the corporate homicide and corporate manslaughter act. Blackstone's guides are like the be-all and end-all in the world of academic law. Everything you want to know about a law will be in one of their guides. It was a thin 170 pages and had cost me £48. But there was no way around getting one. So I had it and it was my most prized possession.
When I got to the main station in Liverpool, I clutched my Blackstone's guide and went to buy a ticket to the stop nearest to my Dad's house. With my ticket, I then boarded the train, went the six or so stops, then got off. As I headed out of the station, I realised my hands were empty! Where was my Blackstone's guide?! My very expensive Blackstone's guide? The one that I wouldn't be able to get another copy of in time for my essay deadline.
Panicked, I raced to the ticket office and explained that it had either been left on the desk when I bought my ticket in town or on the train. Panic, PANIC! Where was it? The railway man, thankfully, dealt very efficiently with this madwoman having a panic attack in from of him.
He located it in the station in town and I asked them to keep hold of it, I would go back. The next train was in 20 minutes so I quickly ran to the house, didn't see my dad's car, so assumed he was at work and threw my bag down before racing back to the station. I put a pack of ham in the fridge that I hadn't eaten on the journey. I had also made my Dad a hamper of baked goodies so put it on the sofa, in the seat behind the door where he usually sits so he would see it when he got home.
Picking the book up was fine and on the way back, I called the house to check if my Dad was home. He wasn't so I headed straight for a friends house. I spent the evening there and got home later but my Dad still wasn't home. Eventually I just wrote him a note and left it in the hallway and went to bed.
And here is my Dad's version of events:
"I was upstairs on the computer when I heard a sound like the door being opened then closed. I went downstairs to see what the sound was but didn't see anything. I popped my head into the front room but didn't see anyone. I went to the fridge to get my sandwiches to take to work and saw a pack of ham in there which hadn't been there before. Confused, I just got my sandwiches and went out to work, figuring there must be an explanation for it. When I got home late from work, there was a note on the floor saying Laura was home!"
That's right. He'd been there the whole time. But because he wasn't expecting me, he just thought he was hearing things when he heard the door open. So the whole first day I was in Liverpool, we spent missing each other, like ships passing the night. Well done, Laura!
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