Unlocking the mind

I have an illogical fear of dropping my car keys into a drain.

It is more chance than intention that my parking position against the kerb of a residential street corresponds with a cast iron grating above a surface water gully.

I dread that moment when I swing open the drivers door to find the gaping hole. It is little comfort that there is a stout metal grating because it is intended to prevent pedestrians, cyclists and other road users from falling in and not a small bunch of combined car and house keys. Even though carefully removed from the ignition and gripped tightly across the abyss there is still that threat of a frantic fumbling and juggling which would result in a clank of metal on metal followed by a distant splash or a splat if into a muddy or silty residue.

The scenario has not yet happened but I do run the risk of it every working day and consequently it is never far from my mind.

The same trepidation exists with other possessions. If leaving the house for work I can be observed patting down my pockets in some regimented order to verify their contents of wallet  (inside breast of suit jacket), mobile phone (lower inside breast of suit jacket), means of unlocking the office (outer left suit), money for a meal deal purchase from Tesco's (outer right suit), piece of paper with chores and tasks for the day ahead (right side trouser) and as an indication of a good upbringing, a clean handkerchief (left side trouser). So attired I resemble the Michelin Man and people have remarked that freed from my working clothes and in casual wear I do look much less overweight. I have now advertised all of my belongings to potential pick pockets and muggers although even a desperado would hesitate to approach me if observing the pocket patting ritual which resembles the old camp fire song of head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes, etc. or speeded up out of anxiety something akin to a martial arts routine.

The same behaviour is repeated many times a day and I can become quite agitated and disorientated if any of the items become displaced or unwittingly find their way into another pocket from their original stowage place.

If going away on holiday there is the inevitable volume of paperwork from passports to boarding passes. This can be placed carefully in a strict order usually in a rucksack or for more recent trips in a military style tactical gear bag. This resembles a large canvas man bag but is able to accommodate a startling volume of documents and personal belongings which are essential for travelling. Even so ordered it is still necessary for me to constantly sort, sift, review and reassemble to papers as though they could disappear, merge into each other or just evaporate before my very eyes.

Larger objects and the prospect of losing or misplacing them can also cause anxiety.

A car, for example.

The large surface and multi storey parking facilities of our cities and out of town shopping centres can raise the prospect of forgetting on what level or in what bay the family car was left. Some may laugh at this thought and regard it as being an impossibility in the modern age.

Joanne's Dad recounted an experience of his own in very recent days. He had driven his car, a microtype city model, to the local supermarket. The vehicle is very distinctive because of its rarity on UK roads and particularly so in a location outside of London which is just about the only place where such a compact motor car is advantageous in space saving and money saving terms.

Parking up he walked away after using the remote control to automatically lock the doors and boot. It was a reasonably early trip to the store and the car park was only about a third full. After he had spent some twenty minutes amongst the food aisles the shop floor had become much more crowded and busy. This was reflected by the level of activity in the car park with frequent traffic movements and that slow circular kerb crawling motion seeking out a spot as close as possible to the store entrance, avoiding the parents and toddler and disabled bays.

A white van, unmarked but with a high viz clad driver reading a newspaper had pulled in next to Joannes's Dads car.

With carrier bag of provisions in one hand he located the key fob and with a plink,plink noise and flash of hazards the car was unlocked. Climbing in he swung the bag towards the passenger seat where it would sit safely for the short drive home. It was then that he noticed a travel rug on the seat cushion. Joanne's dad did not possess a travel rug. The interior of the car was certainly that of a microtype city model but looking around there were unfamiliar aspects to those he was used to. Stepping out he checked the exterior. It was certainly his colour and style. However, the number plate was not his.

The van driver had noticed this strange behaviour. Joanne's Dad stood back. He is a straight talking and no nonsense character but was lost for words. Out of the corner of his eye, on the other side of the van he recognised the letters and numbers that made up his registration plate. The van was the meat in a sandwich of identical cars. What were the odds of finding two of the same rare microtype cars in such close proximity and how worrying the fact that the manufacturers appear to have only one frequency by which all similar vehicles can be unlocked and accessed at will.

The experience of Joanne's Dad has done nothing at all towards resolving my deep and inner fears of losing or misplacing those things that are intended to give reassurance, comfort and security in my life.