A couple of months ago, I bought Dave his favourite graphic novel OF ALL TIME, Watchmen, as a petit merci for just being a star. Though he loved this book to death, he’s never owned it having instead taken part in a reading rota that comprised of his best mates when they were in high school. I thought I’d make his day by buying it for him (full price from an actual book store) and giving it to him as a surprise. Of course, he was ecstatic and while I couldn’t share his enthusiasm for a comic book, I had to admit it looked interesting. Fast forward a couple of weeks and we were walking out of the theatre having just watched Watchmen on the big screen. I was gobsmacked. This film was sensational and I loved every minute of its nearly 3 hour running time. As soon as I had finished reading my current novel Small Island (I’m going to write about this soon), I borrowed Dave’s book to read during my commute to and from work. Within 3 pages, I was hooked. I read it on the train, on the bus, standing at the bus stop - I could hardly put it down. Until I did. On the bus. And left it there. When I realized some two hours later, I wanted to cry. It wasn’t just an expensive book, it was an expensive book I bought for Dave as a thank you for being my guy. And I had left it on the #4 Hillend. To make matters worse, I realized I left credit card information in the back of the book and had to call the company to cancel it. Ugh. I called the bus company to find out if it had been turned in, along with the gloves Dave’s grandmother had given me which were sitting oh so innocently on top of the book and I was told to call back on Monday. This was on a Friday. Which meant I would spend the whole weekend mourning the lost book. My boss told me not to worry too much as Scottish people can’t read – I’d probably get it back. Dave told me not to worry as Scots were all thieving bastards – I would never get it back. But still, I wanted to believe. On Monday, I called the bus company and it was found! The operator even remembered me (ah, the perks of having a Canadian accent). I picked it up and wanted to kiss it but stopped when I noticed a multitude of fingerprints on the cover and spine. I was hoping for a tiny break and I got one. Yay.