Keep calm and have a cuppa tea

Losing a passport and driver’s license is not really a small thing.

Last night I’d re-traced the ride between several of my destinations, hoping in vain with lights on high beam to pick up something in the middle of the road or in the gutters that resembled a passport.  It occurred to me for the first time how small and dark those things are… hunting for them who-knows-where at night on tarmac that turns out to be a vaguely similar colour!

While there was a clear need for action, I was a little surprised last night at how calm I was about it all.  Along the lines of “oh well, if that screws up Monday’s [non-flexible] flights, then we’ll just have to see what unfolds instead.”  That’s the nature of an “adventure”, right?

Having noticed the unexpected serenity, I made a conscious choice to lean into it.  THE way to “lean into” being calm in the midst of ordinary everyday is to make a cuppa tea.  So after an unsuccessful ride retracing steps, I did just that – made a cuppa.  And of course spoke with God about it all too – exploring what He’s up to rather than demanding a quick fix to repair my own agenda.

The entire ride to London had been thrown into potential chaos losing the passport and license, so I was still… let’s say… focussed.  Calm and focussed.  I think that’s a reasonable combination.  One I might do well to take with me as the “real” adventure gets under way when the bike and I are reunited in Timor.

As the addendum suggested in last night’s diary entry, that moment of tea-infused calm provided an epiphany – “perhaps the original documents were left at the chemist’s desk where they sighted originals and signed copies”.  That’s the strange thing about epiphanies – they’re often so obvious in hindsight that anyone might say “well of course, why didn’t you think of that before”.  But before the lightbulb moment the insight is anything but obvious.

I turned up at the chemist this morning 5 minutes before opening time.  The owner rocked up a moment later and said to those of us waiting “Not ready to open yet – are you waiting for subscriptions?”  A few others nodded, but I of course responded “Nope,” and gave the 30-second abbreviated spiel (who knew I can actually be concise when the moment calls for it?!).  “Oh,” said Mr Nameless the chemist, “I was here last night at lock up and I can confirm there wasn’t anything left here.  Sorry I think you’ll have to look elsewhere.”  Disappointing.  I had an immediate visual image of the hopeless search along kilometres of city blocks, not knowing if someone had already found and binned my “trash”.  But not to be easily dissuaded, my body language was enough to indicate I’d be happy to wait for him to check despite his confidence my documents weren’t in his chemist, which he kindly did.

Not 60 seconds later he was back at the still-locked front door with all three documents in his hands.

So I am, again, feeling all set for Monday.  I have a bit of packing and reorganising to do, will deliver the bike to the docks tomorrow, will attend to a few details of admin, clean the house-sit, and catch a cab to the airport.  All very doable at a relaxed pace between now and Monday.

Then, let the adventure begin…