Seeing double

Readers of this diary will know only too well that when I mess things up, I make a proper job of it. Just excelled myself.

As the next trip to Scone beckons, time to get the Harry Roscow Trophy winner's medal ready. Twice a year I troop into the local shoe menders to get the medal etched. Think the man behind the counter now has a stock of pre-prepared medals, each with Andrew's name inserted and just the date to add. He's won seven out of nine. Determined this next trip will be different!

Ordered the medal to mark his win for June 2017. Picked it up and handed over £5. Safely placed in my zipped trouser pocket, was somewhat surprised to find no sign of the medal when I got home. Surprise turned to worry. Certainly couldn't let my wife know I'd lost it. She already thinks I'd lose a limb if they weren't all attached.

So sneakily back I go the following day to order a replacement. The shoe mender's partner is on duty. He'll fix up for it to be done the next day by the man I first saw. Ask him to pass on a message not to think he's experiencing deja vu, getting an identical job request. Pick up the second medal, another £5 handed over. The shoe repairer makes a point of putting the replacement medal in a small plastic bag. Not sure how that would help, but point understood. Replacement makes it's way home without incident.

All fine and dandy. Except the following day whilst looking in the back of the car, I notice something glinting in the passenger footwell. It's the original medal! Must have slipped out of my pocket and fallen down the back of the driver's seat. Drat!

So now I've got two medals.