Wallet panic caused my mood to sink like Titanic T

MIKE Shaw, former editor of the Colne Valley Guardian, complained that the internet was taking over the world when a Linthwaite couple tried to order two Christmas dinners at a garden centre and were told they had to book online.

Like many, Mike doesn’t use a computer. He had enough of them when he worked in a newspaper office.

He prefers writing letters by hand and phoning up friends rather than messaging them, a skill he never mastered anyway.

Douglas Mellor fully agrees that the world is going slightly bonkers with its reliance on new technology.

“I have never had to book by internet. If we’re out, we have often called in places and had Christmas dinner or a meal from a menu. If we want to book, we might phone up in advance, but never on the internet.” HE panic attack came in B&Q when I discovered my wallet was missing.

“Oh dear,” I said, to my wife Maria. Or words to that effect. “I think I’ve lost it.”

We had wandered the store in preparation for our house move and had committed to a dust sheet and a set of curtains for the spare room. The last of the big spenders, us.

I had jotted down items we might need, snapped photographs and took measurements with an eight metre Stanley tape measure with a snap like a crocodile.

Perhaps the wallet had fallen out of my pocket when I was kneeling on the floor in inspection mode?

We reported to customer services and staff were helpful. I retraced my steps with a sinking feeling that went down to my boots. The wallet contained debit and credit cards, Press and RAC cards, driving licence, family photographs, sterling and euros.

The money cards would need cancelling but, if an unscrupulous person had found them, how many items under £30 could they buy before they were revoked? The photographs would be lost forever.

I had no luck in curtains, shelving or fires. It was not in the car park, nor had it dropped to the

And as he reminded me, a lot of people can’t even text. I’m not that good at it myself.

He made a further point that is often overlooked: “What annoys me is that we can’t get the special offers or bargain deals that you can only get on the internet.”

Which is basically discrimination against those who don’t know how, or have no wish, to become part of the technical revolution and the worldwide web.

“I want to remain old fashioned,” he said proudly, and I can hear that sentiment being echoed through the valleys of West Yorkshire.

Douglas and I had a good chat on the phone and I couldn’t stop laughing when he said: “You know, your voice doesn’t match your face.”

Which made me wonder what voice goes with the picture on this column. floor inside the car. The only other place I had been was Holmfirth Post Office car park to collect a parcel. Maybe it had dropped out there. We set off for home and I had to curb a tendency to speed as despondency settled. All the hassles of a house move and losing your wallet in time for Christmas. What could happen next? Plague? Benedict Cumberbatch? He added: “I didn’t expect such an educated voice.”

To which some might have taken offence but made me laugh louder.

Perhaps readers look at my portrait and imagine Compo?

The problem is, we never hear our own voice when we are busy using it.

It’s not as if we sit down every now and then and record it to check on volume, clarity and use of the English language. I suspect we would all get a shock if we did.

I always wished I had a voice like Richard Burton but failed the audition in my teens and made do with what I had: An accent forged in West Yorkshire and veneered with Mancunian, that took me halfway round the world and back.

The voice has worked quite well but I’m still wondering about the face.

I searched the house. The last time I had used my debit card had been in my office to order a toilet seat and shower curtain from Argos online.

As I said, last of the big spenders. It was not on my desk, it was nowhere I could see.

My wife and daughter remained silent and out of the way, possibly waiting for Vesuvius to erupt but my emotions had sunk like the Titanic.

It was time to phone the police and report the loss and cancel those cards, but I made one final search. The last time I remembered having the wallet was in the office.

I carried it with my phone into the bedroom, which I had already searched.

One more look before everything, including Christmas, got cancelled.

And there it was: It was black and it lay upon the black TV digi box. Perfect camouflage.

An hour of deepening despondency lifted on angel wings. Relief? Just call me Mafeking.