I’m working away in Nottingham again this week. Missus not happy, but like the money. Finished work today and went for a couple of beers after in The Organ Grinder, a Blue Monkey Brewery pub(nice pint of Infinity IPA). Then on to Wetherspoon, The Gooseberry Bush, for a cheap curry. Walked back up to hotel, packed my bag ready for work and back home tomorrow. Couldn’t find my phone. Turned the whole room over, emptied all my bags again, went down corridor and knocked my mates door, ‘hang on’, he calls. Opens his door, and I’ve interrupted his [Poor language removed]. Stinks. Told him about my phone, so he tries calling while I go back my room and listen. Nothing. Horrible feeling. Had to walk back to pub with little hope. Some great person has handed it in. I asked the barman who it was, but said he not sure. Handed him a tenner to pass it to them, or put in charity box. His eyes lit up, so looks like he’s having it, but I don’t care, I’ve got my phone back. Still some good people about. Also, I’m a bit concerned how losing a crappy phone made me feel. Can’t wait to get home and see my missus and kids tomorrow.