Numpty of Numpsville

Last week some of you will know that it was the culmination of my young composers project 2019. Much of my role as Artistic Director is making sure everyone’s needs are met whether they be the young composers themselves, the ensemble or patrons and facilitators like Annie Whitehead and Judith Weir. It’s full on for everyone and the recording sessions over the weekend also involved some crisis management.

Monday night was the night of the performance and my anxieties were high only because I wanted it all to go well. I knew the ensemble would be great and I knew the pieces were varied and good but it was hoping that all the hard work was communicated to the audience. I am just conscious that some people do not understand how much work goes into making and arranging five to ten minutes of music. But this was a discerning audience and I needn’t have worried.

The evening was glorious with the musicians shinning through and being gracious in their acknowledgement of how much the young composers had challenged them – in a totally positive way.

The pieces came across well and the audience all said what a wonderful evening it was . I was emotionally drained but knew I would be wired for a good few hours so I had made an arrangement to drive to Stansted airport, just for the hell of it! Only joking.

Last year was so busy and the beginning of this year too that I haven’t been able to spend much time at my house in France so, rather than not get here at all, I had sorted a couple of mini trips and this was one of them.

I left Nottingham University, drove to a Hotel near Stansted and was in my room by 23.45. Unfortunately there was a very audible row going on when I was standing in the corridor but fortunately barely audible in the room.

I even managed some sleep and hopped out of bed, relatively spritely at 04.30. Showered, dressed and was sat having breakfast by 05.45.

I actually felt quite smug about having achieved all that and about not feeling physically aweful either.

In Toulouse I was just about to head out through customs, just after the baggage bit when I thought I’d avail myself if the facilities due to the fact it’s about 1.5 hours to my house from Toulouse and I was going to shop for food on the way.

I often keep my iPhone in my back pocket of my jeans and so standard practice, when about to drop my trousers, is to place the phone on the loo role holder so that it doesn’t fall out of my back pocket and smack into a solid floor which it has done in several occasions.

I smuggly made a mental note with a wry smile, ‘…and make sure you don’t leave that there Jo!’ Finished off, collected all my belongings, headed out through customs and then off to the car hire desk. I had just handed over my passport and driving licence when I thought, ‘oh shit, I’ve left my phone in the loo’. I explained to the woman and asked her where information was and went rushing off.

My phone wasn’t simply in a loo of course, it was in the area that you are not allowed to go back into once you have exited.

The woman on information took me to a special door, used her pass to open it and then waved me in. I was not escorted. It has crossed my mind that anyone could say they’d left their phone in the loo and get let into that area. She had asked me where the flight was from and also asked me the flight number which I couldn’t give her because it was in my phone !

Anyway back inside I rushed to the loo and let out an audible ‘oh no’ when I saw it wasn’t there. An American woman says , ‘oh are you looking for a phone? A woman came out of there just now waving one around and shrugging her shoulders as if to say, ‘what do I do with this” She described the woman as, wearing white, with a leg brace and having a French accent.

Hoping the leg brace might make her easy to spot I rushed off and out of baggage control. No sign of her. Not one iota. So I traped back to info, with sagging shoulders and heightened anxiety.

No the phone hadn’t been handed in. We did have one amusing moment when she asked for my telephone number so that she could phone me if it was handed in. To be fair to her she thought I might have a landline in France and, to be fair to her again I did have a french mobile but it wasn’t charged.

She said she wasn’t allowed to ring my iPhone because it was an international number. Great!

So I wandered up and down a bit, hoping to spot the woman in white and then found some charging points to charge my french mobile. Weirdly these were in the entrance hall to the loo so I was getting quite a lot of weird looks due to my loitering.

Once plugged in I rang my mobile ,off course, I knew it was switched on but I often leave it on silent so it was dependant on the woman in white feeling the vibrations.

No answer.

I then sent a text from my French phone because I know they show up on the screen whether you’ve unlocked it it not – ‘you have my phone. Please return it to information at the airport or ring this number’

Nothing!

I went back to info who had,of course, heard nothing . I sat in a chair for a bit and had a little cry. Then I resolved to carry on regardless.

I went back to the car hire desk which, by the way, had had my passport and driving licence for an hour and a half by then. I wasn’t at all concerned by that as semi consciously I knew that was the case.

Because I have have one of these annual car hire excess policies you have to have a credit card prepared to part with €1000 or so. Now – because I know it’s safer to not always have the same number for my cards I have a secure app on – yes you’ve guessed it – my iPhone where I store such things so I was praying that the one credit card I knew the pin for would a) have enough credit on it and b) indeed be the right pin as memories do weird things under stress.

It went through. Phew!

I had just collected my keys when my phone rang. Bearing in mind I’d been up since 4.30 am I wasn’t feeling bright minded and, despite being relatively fluent in french , my brain did not want to play ball and the babble fish were not translating ( look up hitchhikers guide to the galaxy if that means nothing to you ).

I rushed to info and handed the phone to the woman who had been looking after me. She seemed happy and clear and reeled off a sentence that sounded ok.

I couldn’t quite make it out but understood ‘door on left after tunnel and a word that she kept repeating ‘axia’ or something like that. I found the door and a list of intercom buttons and pressed the one that looked most like axia . I explained that I thought she had my phone and she fired off a reply that made me think I was supposed to wait. Ten minutes later, having stood there looking like a complete dork for far to long – I tried again.

This time her instructions were clearer in french, or at least the first part ‘Push the door and then ….’

I pushed the door and was in some kind of holding chamber . Then I read all the signs (all in French) and worked out how to get through the next door and there I was ….. back in baggage reclaim.

I wandered passed all the airline desks and there was one, near easyJet that closely responded to ‘Axia’ or what ever it was. There was a queue. I stood there but the woman beckoned me forward and said madam here is your phone . I was so beside myself by then I must have had, ‘I’ve lost my phone’ tatoed on my forehead . She didn’t ask me to describe it, phone it or in any way verify it was mine she just handed it over.

…and that was that .

It did get me thinking. I have a pre-load currency card as well as French-bank account card etc. I don’t know their numbers off by heart and hadn’t taken any cash out in advance because I knew I could get some. But not if you have the cards and no means of accessing the pins.

My return boarding passes were on that phone as was the booking reference and access to any emails or information that would have helped me get another boarding card .

The cash would have been easily fixed as I have memorised some of the numbers of my uk bank accounts but the airline stuff … that could have been really awkward. I normally carry an iPad as well which could have tracked my phone and given me access to details in my diary for more boarding passes etc but not this time.

It has all gone to prove that technology is great until it isn’t.

I survived . I spent 2 hours longer in Toulouse airport than I needed to and I hope …..I have some fail safe back up plans for future including possibly having the phone round my neck on a chain like some people do with glasses . Argh………..