I really cannot be bothered to walk down to the cashpoint machine at the bottom of the hill. It is too close to drive to but a bit of a schlepp to walk to. And so with the Mrs and her purse away how will I fund the essentials of this weekend: 40 Marlboro lights, a pint of milk and a cab fare to Bristol Temple Meads?
As another reminder of my student days it was a matter of rummaging in the pockets of my trousers and coat. What a lot of junk: a letter (unread) from my Aunt Lucy, my passport which carry at all times in case I need to flee the country to escape the jihadists of the QPPSAG, used train tickets, an entry pass to Beaufort Securities, a good weighting of Euros but there was more…
Much to my surprise I discovered four bank notes (UK) and enough coins to sink a battleship. Or at least to weigh me down if the QPPSAG Jihadists throw me into the Thames. The net result is that I have unearthed £62.57. I am rich. The only question now is whether it is the tobacconist or the taxi driver who wants to be paid largely in 1p, 2p, 5p, 20p and 50p pieces?