To be precise: I left my sleeping-bag, a very nice pair of pyjamas, my spongebag and some dirty underwear on a rail replacement bus service. I blame SouthEastern Trains and their constant bloody weekend engineering work; I never leave stuff on trains.
When I noticed that my load was lighter than it should have been, I dashed back to the station and alerted the bloke on duty. He seemed pleased to get a change from the endless 'What do you mean there are no trains? How am I supposed to get to Camden Town/London Bridge/Brighton then?' of other customers and promised to make enquiries. Ten minutes later I received a phone call to say my errant possessions had been located in Plumstead and detained there for my collection.
Driving to Plumstead Station was not high on my list of fun things to do on a Sunday afternoon, and to put the icing on the cake I managed to mislay myself en route and go for an interesting tour of the local dual carriageway. But all this was a small price to pay for blissful reunion with my favourite jimjams.
Luckily my companion plush animal was safely ensconced in my shoulder bag, or I would have been seriously wigging out.