Today wasn't a particularly good day---and I wish I wasn't going to list all of the things which became wrong with it---but I am. (And I am sorry---but it might make me feel the slightest bit better).
None of the photographs I attempted to develop myself worked out. Something small went wrong at every single stage. But it was a learning curve and I guess I can take something from that.
I was on a bus which hit a tree which caused the top deck window to smash in. (I was on the bottom, thankfully, but felt so terrible for the lady who had to shake her hood free of glass and nurse a cut and bleeding hand). The driver continued driving and stopped, a little later, to push out the rest of the window---it fell into the street; it narrowly missed a man.
And perhaps something that I am a little sadder about---okay, okay, I am grumpy about---is that I lost my hat. My favourite hat. My beautiful-shade-of-green-Parisian-beret-hat. It isn't at the cinema and wasn't on the floor of the coffee-shop. So maybe it is lying in the street somewhere---although I am sure I re-traced every step, placed my foot in every print---or maybe it has blown away in the wind. Maybe it's just on someone else's head---finders keepers, really. It probably wouldn't hurt so much if it wasn't really from Paris, from the first holiday I took with my love.
Those are the things that went wrong with my day---but there was redemption in nice conversation with friends---I just wish losing my hat hadn't happened so late in the day, to taint it all. It sounds so materialistic, doesn't it? But really, it is the sentiment and the memories attached to it that made that hat so special.
I am sorry for ranting.