Thing no.26: Filofax


Travelling on an exchange from Reading University, I reach the terminal at Charles De Gaulle airport and try to call the student I am meeting in Paris. There is no answer and I leave the circular building to catch the bus. As the doors close I realise I have left my address book in the payphone. Barging down the aisle, I persuade the driver to stop and I run back into the space-age terminal. I reach the first payphone hoping to see the black Filofax containing the address and number I need to reach my rendezvous. The phone is empty. Moving around the circle I run to the next identical arrangement of chairs, tables and public phone – again the phone-box is empty. I move onto the next, and the next, and the next. Completing a full circuit of the building I see my black leather book waiting for me on top of the phone still propped open at the page.

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