One winter, some years ago, I was walking down Broad Street, Blaenavon. I can’t remember how young I was, but as the family hadn’t yet moved down to the farm, it’s safe to say I was still in single figures.
Maybe nine-years old.
I can recall that it was bitterly cold, as you’d expect in a small mountain-top, mining town, in winter.
The snow wasn’t thick enough to keep us from school, but it was present.
And it offered sufficient coverage to disguise the chalky lumps of dog poo.
I walked down the Lion Street junction, and crossed over to the right-hand side of Broad Street, as I headed away from the general store where I’d been staring, goggle-eyed at Airfix model kits.
About thirty metres down the road, near the newsagents, in the fading winter light, I spotted something half-buried in the well-trampled snow.
I knew what it was, even from a distance.
I wasn’t crafty enough to look around, to make sure no-one was looking.
I walked quicker.
I reached my goal, bent down, ferreted about and pulled the 10/s note out of the snow.
It was damp.
I didn’t even have the nous to be cunning.
I marched straight in to the newsagent, clutching my salvaged booty.
I selected a number of comics.
Superman, Batman, The Green Lantern. And others.
Then I walked up to the counter and ordered a lorry-load of pick’n’mix.
And a couple of Mars bars.
And an Amazin’ bar.
And many other edible goodies.
I managed to carry everything back to the house, and smuggled it upstairs to my bedroom, in stages.
I gorged my mind on the comics.
I gorged my stomach on the confectionary.
And not once did I give a thought about the person who had lost 10/s.
I have, over the years, wondered about the person who had lost that sizeable lump of cash.
But what should I have done with the money?
Handed it in to a policeman?
Yeah, right.
However, my guilt has continued to nag away; sometimes more, sometimes less, but it has always been there.
And as a result of the persistent nagging, I give money to charitable causes.
Trying to make myself feel better.
It doesn’t.
And I know that if I had my time over, I wouldn’t change a thing.
I would still have had a comic- and confectionary-fest.
And felt ill all of that evening as a result of the latter.
What would you have done?
I’d have argued with you over who got to read the Green Lantern.
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this. You know, TGL was my favourite superhero. I never could really draw a distinction between Batman and Superman, but Green Lantern was way out in front in my favourite stakes.