Mahinda’s Little World

A couple of Friday nights ago (as described in Vol I of Tales from the Sofa of Wrongness) I got the bus home, after obtaining a (not-so-)cheapo pizza.

As I sat down, I found a phone on my seat. Nothing fancy - just an old Nokia. I decided that, rather than leave it on the bus to be half-inched by some scally, I’d take it and try to get it back to its owner.

So I did. I scanned through the list of numbers, and found nothing helpful except a “home” number that had a non-Manc area code…probably a parental number.

It really is a good idea to have contact details stored under something obvious, e.g. “Me” - I used to have a little digital organiser thing, which I lost at university. Fortunately, I had my email address under “Me” and some kind soul picked it up, emailed me, and arranged to give it back.

Anyway, I then looked at the first couple of txt msgs, and found out that the phone’s owner was called ‘Mark’. I picked the two that seemed to be from mates rather than acquaintances, and dropped them “I seem to have picked up your friend’s phone - please get him to call me on [my number] to arrange a pick up” txts.

I then got home and found Housemate Lynda typing away on Housemate Andrew’s laptop. It seemed that Andrew had gotten himself very drunk indeed on bottled beer, sitting in on a Friday night, and Lynda was talking to one of his mates on MSN Messenger.

Andrew’s poor mate then found himself talking to a drunken gestalt Mahinda-Lynda entity for a while…which must have been nice.

Went up to bed, and slept.

I was woken up on Saturday morning by an unfamiliar ring tone. It was Mark’s phone, with the number listed as “[something] Road”. So I answered, to find a suspicious voice asking “Who’s that?”

I replied with “Ah, you must be Mark. I picked your phone up on the bus last night.”

Suitably introduced, we arranged that Mark (who lives fairly close) come to pick his phone up on Sunday evening.

I then drove down to Cheltenham, experienced The Sofa Of Wrongness, and returned to MancLand. Sure enough, the doorbell rang at 8.20pm. I opened the door to find Mark standing there, and gave him his phone. In return, he gave me a tenner!

I protested that there was no need, but he wasn’t having it.

So, I gave half of it to charity (a workmate had just done a sponsored run, and got £10 rather than £5 from me) and pocketed the remaining fiver.

Well, I may try to be altruistic, but I’m hardly Mother Theresa!