A haven of honesty

I am very grateful that there have been no riots in my vicinity. My friend in Clapham said the only shop not looted on St John's Road was Waterstone's. To put things in context, my most recent main distress was losing my watch. I'd just bought a shiny mock-croc daffodil coloured new strap for it, cheered by the prospect of sunshine on my wrist. I fitted the strap myself and it was rather loose. In fact, it was so loose that it fell off twice on the first day of its new ensemble. Regardless of this, I wore it to work and was mortified to discover on Monday afternoon that my wrist was bare. The watch was not in the office, not in my car, not in the area between. I'd visited Asda in Bournemouth at lunchtime so, as an outside chance, I went back there yesterday lunchtime. The girl at the lost property desk got out her book. The first three articles found in the supermarket on Monday were a five pound note, a Samsung mobile phone and a watch. "What's the description of your watch?" she asked. "It's most notable feature was a bright yellow strap," I replied. "Yes, it's here." she said, delving into a polythene bag in the safe labelled 8 August. The sunshine had returned.