How many times have you appropriated goods from your local shop? A couple of screws from a DIY store when all they had was a box which would have been way to much for your needs. Not paid for the stick of gum that lay at the bottom of your basket or trolley. To be honest I am prone to the odd lapse of payment aversion, whether unconsciously, or as a statement against corporation profit, or just plain because I haven’t got enough money, or want the thrill. There are times where for whatever reason I walk out of a store with more than I went in, but my wallet not any lighter.
Well yesterday was such a day. I walked over to the gas station picked up a newspaper from the stand on the forecourt walked over to the cash machine. Got some money out, turned around, and for whatever reason carried on walking. As I crossed the road away from the scene of the crime, I asked myself “Why did you just do that?” But with a fleeting consideration nothing came instantly to mind. Slipping the paper under my coat to keep it dry, off I trotted to my new temporary home where my boat was now moored.
To be honest I didn’t think much about this minor indiscretion, after all what was £1.50 to the behemoth that is BP? Well Karma showed me what it was? Intent on maintaining my record of watching my team live, either in flesh or on the TV, I made my way to a local drinking establishment which was showing the game with ample time to spare. Get there, settle down, even read the paper in question for a bit. Kick-off time approaches, I prepare for witnessing a resounding victory which continues their unbeaten run in the League.
Ten minutes before the spectacle begins, the power in the pub goes off. OK such things do still happen, workman go through a cable or some other such misfortune. Looking outside the rest of the street and other premises are in blazing artificial light. The candles come out, I make the calculated decision that this could be a pro-longed experience. Off I trot as quick as I can, trying to locate another place which is showing the match. For what this season has shown me, is that if I am not sat watching the game before kick-off, my team invariably looses. A simple, not mystical but very true realisation. I walk and walk but no such oasis presents itself. Until finally, a dim gloomy lamp hovers in the distance, and as I approach my saviour beckons. Push through the doors hoping the walk was not as long as it seemed. But the time counting up in the top left corner of the screen tells me this is not so.
Of course my team looses. A sad and painful moment marks the end of a glorious run. And of course in my haste I leave the newspaper in the blacked out pub.
As a means of rounding off my repayment to the karmatic balance sheet, when I leave my transient mooring of the last 2 nights, pushing off, my boat runs aground in water to shallow for the purpose I require. Not knowing this is the case, I investigate all the options my wiser boaters have bestowed upon me. I try this, it doesn’t work, I try that, it doesn’t work. My only recourse is to call upon another far more knowledgeable of such things than myself. He advises to try the things I have already gone through, with the final alternative only for him and some others to come to my rescue.
And so they arrive one and a half hours later. My rugged band of boating knights, advising, cajoling, pulling on ropes, trying with all their sense of wit and charm to get the twenty tonnes of my home to move. And so finally it does, safe in the knowledge that no harm has been done, and secure in the fact that is not a consequence of my limited experience. So we head back with two of my rescuers aboard along for the ride and companionship, and of course to do my lock gates and paddles.
As I finally reach my more permanent home all I can do is wonder if all these events could have been avoided with a small payment to the man in the petrol station.
