Dancing

I was late this morning for our dance class in the Macrobert centre because I discovered that my purse had gone missing from my handbag.


So I spent a frantic half hour cancelling all my credit cards, and contacting Strathclyde and Bridge of Allan police, all very helpful.

How did it happen? I tried to re-construct my movements of the last few days. I had been at a symposium in Glasgow .


It was a ticketed event and we all registered on arrival.

During the lunch and tea break I had no hesitation about leaving my coat on my chair along with my handbag.

My friend, Libby, clutched her handbag throughout taking it with her to the buffet lunch and afternoon tea-break.
She apologised saying her years as a community worker had taught her never to leave it out of her sight.
We joked about it.

She had to agree that she was over-reacting and being unduly cautious.

I said I could understand those visitors from Edinburgh, and there were quite a few who had made the journey across, hanging on to their bags for they think Glasgow is a den of iniquity with guns and knives at every corner.

But it is an ill deserved reputation which still lingers on.

(Incidentally Sarah Spofforth-McQuat, the artist I blipped on Monday had farming relatives outside Glasgow on whose farm the police recently found a huge cache of guns.)

Then I opened my bag this morning and made the discovery.