I lost my Nike baseball cap today. It happened at Brasco, near Albert Dock in Liverpool. Then I phoned them. To ask. I mean it was pissing down at the time, and I was already ten minutes away. Nothing handed in. So then it has sentimental value, and I really want it back. And so I go. And the waiter ain’t seen it. And then, there it is – perched on the bench I had been sitting at.
And I am grateful, and relieved. It’s much more than a baseball cap. It represents a person I love very much, too. And even though it’s impossible, it’s felt. So there.
And before I catch my train back to Chester, I have a final coffee at Lime Street. And I take a picture, and write a puzzled blogpost.
I’m very confused at the moment.
And when I finish my coffee and go down the escalators to the underground and sit down on a seat next to a woman with a sniffle, I realise I’ve lost my umbrella.
But I don’t go back up, even though I have time.
I don’t need protection. I want love.