We went to London to see Lisa Loeb - of which more later - and at Kings Cross I needed some cash. The bloke in front of me in the queue took his card and wandered off, leaving his cash in the machine. Instead of pocketing it and starting whistling in a “who, me?” kind of way, I called him back and went about my way knowing that a) I am lovely and b) I could have been probably at least 50 quid to the good. Hey, wait a minute…

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