Growing concern as realise wealth of lost info and access random stranger (who clearly has my phone) may now have to all aspects of my life.
Empty (ridiculously over sized, over stuffed) bag. Wallet, keys, tissues, lippy, mascara, gloss, hairbrush, stamps, cafe nero card, book (with manly folded over corners), notebook, pens (thousands of them), three tampons (why?), 7 business cards for people I don’t know, 2 hairbands and one hair clip, nail file. No phone.
Search last known whereabouts (lecture theatre). Check coat pockets and jeans pockets. No phone.
Start panicking. Go to lost property. No one has handed a phone in. WHy would they? Nice gentleman behind lost property desk phones three other lost property sites on campus to ask if they have had phone handed in despite the fact that I have been nowhere near that part of campus. No phone.
Beg (in manner of Oliver asking for more… MORE!!!) nice but now unamused man behind counter to please phone my phone. Lost property man even less amused when he (and I) discover my own bag is now ringing… with very familiar ring tone.
Oh, the humiliation of baby brain.