'Money can't buy friends, but you get a better class of enemy.'
As I was driving to work the other morning through torrential rain - my windscreen wipers going nineteen to the dozen, trying their utmost to cope with the downpour - I turned on the radio; just in time to catch the nine o' clock news. One of the featured stories caught my attention and I haven't stopped thinking about it since.
A postman (I can't remember from which part of the country...I want to say up north)
came across a wad of ten pound and twenty pound notes stuffed into a litter bin. The notes had all be cut up into thousands of tiny pieces; so small you couldn't make out the serial numbers. The postman, an honest chap, reported his findings to the police. After further investigation it was discovered that there was approximately ten thousand pounds (TEN THOUSAND POUNDS!!) in mutilated notes. And it was not fake.
The postman was told that if he could piece the notes together the Bank of England would exchange them for pristine cash.
That got me thinking....
What had led someone to cut up all those notes: they weren't shreaded, they were cut into tiny pieces with scissors; how long must that have taken?...why would they do that in the first place?...and would the postman have enough patience to piece the notes together again...would you?
Mmmm...I can feel a story coming on....