You know those moments when you think you’ve got everything perfectly under control, only for life to throw you a curveball? Well, my fellow fabric enthusiasts, grab a cup of tea and settle in, because this is the story of how I almost lost the fabric I had handpicked in Tokyo on a cross-country train—thanks to my not-quite-as-organised-as-I-thought ways.
The Setup: Me, My Mum, and a Circus of Luggage
It all started on the United Kingdom portion of my trip during a train ride from Devon to Newbury, with my mum and me acting as the ringleaders of what could only be described as a travelling circus of luggage. Between us, we had five bags, two handbags, and enough fabric to stitch together a small country. Among our prized possessions? A precious stash of fabric I’d carefully selected during the earlier part of my trip while in Tokyo. If you’re a fabric lover like me, you’ll understand the emotional bond I had with those threads. This wasn’t just any fabric—it was Tokyo fabric. It was fabrics that I couldn't find easily at home, and fabric that (I thought) I had packed safely away into my large (and at this point rather dated) suitcase.
Feeling smugly prepared, I had tagged everything: suitcases, daypacks, probably even my mum’s handbag. Not to mention, I’d slipped a GPS tracker into two of my bags, including that large suitcase, just in case. I was organised, right? Totally in control. But, as it turns out, the universe had other plans for me.
The Chaos Begins: Trains, Beach Carts, and Muscly English Gentlemen.
As we boarded the train, I executed my well-practiced routine: detach the daypack from my suitcase, stash it overhead, and slide the big bags into the luggage racks. Easy peasy. The train began filling up with passengers at every stop, and soon enough, it felt like the entire population of England was squeezing into our carriage.
At some point, I had to navigate my way to the bathroom (as one does after enough coffee), but the path was blocked by—get this—a beach cart. Yes, someone had brought a giant beach cart onto a train and left it parked in the middle of the aisle. Now, I could have muttered a few unprintable words, but instead, I clambered over it like a contestant on Wipeout, with the help of a few very kind, very muscly young Englishmen. (Shout out to them for making my bathroom trek more of an adventure than I bargained for.)
The Realisation: Missing Daypack, Missing Fabric
As the train hurtled towards Newbury, I suddenly realised we’d have about two nanoseconds to disembark with our mountain of bags. I rallied my mum, grabbed our daypacks, and with the assistance of my new favourite muscly lads (thank you modern chivalry!), hauled our suitcases over the beach cart and off the train. We’d made it! Victory! I felt like a superhero.
But then, as I stood on the platform feeling smug about our escape, and watching the train depart I had a horrifying revelation. My detachable daypack—the one containing my precious Tokyo fabric—was still on the train, speeding away into the distance.
Cue panic.
The Aftermath: Tracking Down My Lost Bag
My mum, always the calm and collected one, suggested we speak to the station master and see if we could get a message to the train conductor. Maybe they could take the bag off at the next stop and hold it for us? Sadly, no such luck. My beloved daypack was now in the hands of the Lost & Found gods, and I was left to fill out a lost luggage form online, trying to recall what I’d packed inside. I was convinced the bag was red, with grey accent (wrong) held a Bullet Train Lego set I’d bought for my son (wrong again), my contacts (oh so wrong) a jacket (actually the one thing I got right), and some clothing. I refreshed my email obsessively, hoping against hope that the bag would be found.
Later that evening, as I was rummaging through my suitcase, I found the Lego set. Then my contact solution turned up. Confusion washed over me—what was in that daypack? With a sinking feeling, I realised I couldn’t even remember the exact contents. Organised, right? I thought back to all the times I’d patted myself on the back for my impeccable planning, only to realise that in my flurry of travel excitement, I might have been a little less meticulous than I’d believed.
The Reunion: Dirty Laundry and Precious Fabric
The next morning, I had a lightbulb moment and dug through my phone for a picture of me holding the daypack (which was actually grey with red accent - oh dear me). Armed with this new visual clue, I updated the Lost & Found form with an actual photo of the missing bag. And lo and behold, just a few hours later, I received an email: they had found my bag at London Paddington Station! It turns out my initial description of the bag and it's contents had been hilariously off the mark, but thanks to the photo, they were able to identify my lost luggage.
The best part? My Tokyo fabric was inside! Along with a couple of random clothing items and some dirty laundry (the less said about that, the better). Crisis averted. The precious fabric which I had procured in Tokyo had made its way back to me, safe and sound.
Lessons Learned (and Labelled)
The next day, before we headed off to London Paddington Station to reclaim my daypack, I checked all the name tags on my luggage. You know, just to be safe. And what did I discover? All of them still had my old Australian address and phone number from decades ago! So much for being the queen of organisation.
Lesson learned: always double-check your luggage tags, folks. And if you’ve got a bag that splits in two or some fabric treasures in tow, maybe attach a little extra label love to ensure they make it back to you in the event they are lost, and hey - make sure they have the right address and phone number of them! Also, GPS trackers? Totally worth it - just make sure they are in ALL your bags, even the ones you aren't expecting to detach.
The Sewing Shenanigans Continue...
So, that’s the tale of how I almost lost my Tokyo fabric to the abyss of the Great Western Railway Lost and Found. Thankfully, all’s well that ends well, and that fabric is now safely stashed in my sewing room, waiting to be transformed into a new quilt design or two. Stay tuned for that—I promise it’ll be worth the wait (and the drama).
Have you ever had a sewing-related travel disaster? Or maybe you’re just a little less organised than you’d like to admit? Let me know in the comments below—I’m always up for a good sewing shenanigans story!
Until next time,
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