A
no-show for my tutor session gave me an earlier than expected opportunity to
nip into town and boost the euro balance on my cash passport ahead of the Barcelona
trip, and I entered the travel agents with my head full of exchange rates and
likely daily spends as I approached the foreign currency desk and presented the
card with my request to fill it up; the bemused cashier politely pointed out
that I was in Thompsons and the card was issued by Thomas Cook, just next door,
saying “don’t worry it happens a lot”, and leaving unsaid “particularly to old
duffers like you”.
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