Thursday night was the night before the end of term. It was a strange night to have the staff end-of-year leaving do, because the next day was still a school day, but this didn’t seem to impact on celebrations. A group of us descended on a Tapas bar/restaurant near Kings Cross, where we were to remain for the evening.
As I said in my previous post, this new school of mine is characterised by its incredibly friendly atmosphere. To see everyone in one place was lovely. Although I’d only been in school for a couple of weeks, I knew how lucky I was to call these people my colleagues.
This rather pleasant development was worthy of celebration, and as the night went on, the drinks were drunk, until eventually I was too. I was by no means alone in my excess, but on this occasion had far exceeded the amount which I ought to have had. As the festivities at the tapas bar were winding up, things became a little hazy.
Upon leaving at around half-past two or so, I managed to catch the wrong night bus. Instead of heading to Enfield, I awoke at the end of the line in… Walthamstow. Keen to get out of there by any means necessary, I inexplicably headed to… Canning Town.
The fact that I was now considerably further east than I wanted to be, and that it was ten to four in the morning, had been eclipsed by a more disturbing fact. Having fallen asleep on both buses, an opportunist (or multiple ones) had kindly taken the opportunity to rob me of my wallet and my phone.
And there I was, in the early morning, penniless and unable to contact anyone, deep in the East End. By some bizarre stroke of fortune, my Oyster card had been buried too far into my pocket for the thief (or thieves) to consider it safe to extract. I could, at least, get myself home.
It took a while to get back to Enfield. A bus central, and then to Camden Town, and then to Winchmore Hill, saw me arrive back at my friend’s house at 6 in the morning. The house keys, of course, were in the wallet which my dispossesser(s) had made off with. I rang the doorbell to wake my friend’s parents, who let me in.
To their credit, they were more concerned about what had happened to me than by their rude awakening at least an hour before they would normally be up. I was still in a state of shock about it all, and found the explanation sounded foreign even as I retold what had happened. I couldn’t quite grasp that this had happened to me, but the lightness of my pockets miserably confirmed that it had done.
I headed upstairs to set about finding which numbers I needed to ring to cancel my phone and my debit card. Feeling depressed about the situation, I sought solace in sleep, and awoke an hour later to deal with the implications of my own foolishness and the criminal’s selfishness. This included phoning my mum to state that we might need a new front door lock.
As it became apparent that I would be on hold for a long time if I wished to contact the bank, I realised I would have to ring my school to let them know I could not make it in on time, and to inform them of the situation I had to attend to. The receptionist on the end of the line was reassuring and friendly, and told me that the head would understand. This put me slightly more at ease whilst I went about tidying the mess which had been created.
The phone duly deactivated, and the debit card newly nullified, I tried not to consider that I had become several hundred pounds worse off, largely due to the cost of replacing the phone. After another quick snooze which was fuelled by my need to forget the ridiculous predicament I was in, I headed school-bound.
Knowing the school to be a friendly and caring place, I had no anxieties about coming in that day. It would make me feel better to be surrounded by decent people.
As I arrived, one of the lovely office staff informed me that my wallet had been handed in to Shoreditch police station. The police had phoned my teaching union to find my workplace (having found a card in my wallet), and found my school’s number to let me know. This is admirable; the police get a lot of criticism – sometimes they ought to be praised for the good they do.
Before phoning the station to find out how to repossess my wallet, I sought out the headteacher. I was, after all, two hours late in to school. She was supremely understanding, and everyone was just glad that I myself had not been hurt. My new colleagues were making what could have been a distinctly depressing day into one which was, at least, manageable. They had lots of kind words, which did a lot to prevent me from feeling irreparably glum about it all.
Anyhow, I phoned the police and discovered (unsurprisingly) that my driving licence, bank card, and money had been taken before the wallet was discarded and then handed in. Somehow or other, it appeared to have been chucked away near the police station itself. My house keys and reward cards were safe, but my money, phone and driving licence were gone. I could at least let my mum know that the front door did not need a new lock.
I later collected the wallet after a post-school drink at the pub, which one of the TAs had kindly offered to buy me. Naturally, I ordered a soft drink. Lessons had been learnt.
After this whole malarkey, I’ve decided that returning home to be around my parents would be wise. Here I can await a new bank card, and finish the business of getting a replacement phone.
Hopefully I will have this sorted within a fortnight. Though I will be worse off, I at least remain unscathed myself. Once I’ve re-obtained everyone’s phone numbers, and have a phone on which to contact people, and once I can withdraw money as usual, this all might feel less annoying.
Alas, the crime has been reported, and the criminal(s) has to hope that the CCTV footage from the bus has not been kept. The time in which the robbery was committed is reasonably precise. Naturally, I have given the police as much information as possible, in case they decide that it is worth their time to find this presumably pathetic individual.
Learning through experience is not always the best way to learn, but I’d say that falling asleep alone on a night bus is not advisable. Especially if it’s not even the right one.
