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Listening to that inner voice

When will I learn? When will I stop and listen to my inner voice when it’s practically shouting at me? When will I realise that I need to be mentally in the real world if I’m physically out in it, too?

On the tram this morning, on the way to work, I had to go three stops. I had my backpack on my back – a neat, tidy, affair that doesn’t take up room and holds nothing but my laptop. I’d put my phone in one pocket and my wallet in another. And before I left, I put 20 000 ft in cash in so that I could go to the supermarket on the way home.

When I got on the tram, I had a feeling. A niggling feeling. A feeling that I should take off by pack and carry it. But there was room. It wasn’t that crammed. Not as much as usual. The chap behind me seemed a little jittery, moving around a lot. About my age, reasonably well dressed, looked like he was on his way to work, too. But I thought he was just a little ansy. The niggle was drowned out by thoughts of the workshop I was about to deliver. So I stood, lost in my own little world. I did move towards the driver’s door though and had my back against a wall for the last two stops. But not soon enough.

pickpocketWhen I got off the tram, a girl told me, in Hungarian, that my pack was open. I took it off and sure enough, both zips had been fully unzipped. But my phone was still there – as were my glasses. But my wallet was gone. My wallet, with three debit/credit cards, my driver’s licence, my Ikea card, my post office card, and my organ donor card.

I rang my Hungarian bank – yes, they could stop the cards. For a total of 12 500 ft – about € 38 or $41. Good to see that someone is profiting. I should have new cards in 10 days.  My Irish bank isn’t going to charge me – and as luck  would have it, they’re moving from Visa to Mastercard so there should be a new card waiting for me when I get home.

The cash is unfortunate – and yes, I could do without losing  20 000 ft this week of all weeks, but hey – it’s not the end of the world. What’s annoying me more is that my inner voice was telling me that something was wrong – and I ignored it. It told me when  I was putting my wallet into the backpack while still in my flat. It told me again as I walked to the tram. And it told me for the third time when I first got on the tram. And stupid, stupid, stupid me didn’t bloody listen.