It’s been a while since I wrote about suitcases. Last time I did I was trialling a super secure but utterly ridiculous suitcase in the wake of my rant about a jobsworth conductor who prevented me from sitting where I could keep an eye on my suitcase full of confidential papers. The super secure but utterly ridiculous suitcase would indeed have prevented any would-be thief from making off with my confidential papers, partly because it was too heavy to lift without a crane, and partly because no self respecting thief would be seen dead with it. Court security used to ask if I’d come to fix the toilet when I tried to bring it through the arch because it was basically a jumped up tool box with wheels and delusions of grandeur.
The super secure suitcase now makes a nice coffee table in my pod in chambers, and is an occasional receptacle for things I’d rather forget. In the meantime I remain vigilant to the point of paranoia when travelling by train, checking continuously to make sure nobody has got off with it, exposing me to the risk of a humungous fine from the Information Commissioner. Apart from tonight. When, during a 3 hour train journey, someone took my suitcase (and that of the lady nearby) into the lobby between carriages, pulled out a few things they fancied, chucked my toothbrush on a seat, and zipped up the suitcase and left it in the lobby.
As it happens nothing very valuable was stolen, it was a combination of toiletries and food (although now I’ve added it all up I realise it will cost me about £150 to replace the toiletries. What irked me most was that they nicked the treats I had been bringing home from the conference I’d been speaking at to assuage my maternal guilt for being away overnight (incidentally Principal Hotel Manchester do great free treats – although I never got to taste them).
I was at a conference, so not carrying my usual supply of confidential papers. but of course it could just as easily have been confidential material that was taken, if the thieves had just swiped the whole bag.
So the moral of the story is : please be paranoid folks. The lemon sherbets don’t matter but the 40 grand fine would really suck.
And apologies in advance if you spot me wandering around looking more dishevelled than usual – I am without so much as a hairbrush or tweezer. I have neither perfume nor deodorant, so will be sporting an all natural aroma too. I’m going to set up a crowdfunding page so I can buy myself a can of Impulse and some more lemon sherberts.