PRESS

The one thing I miss the most from my journalism days is the press card. P-R-E-S-S printed in bright red letters on a white background that immediately gave the impression that one was on an important mission. What fun it was to see the reactions of policemen and difficult people in general when the wallet was opened and the red letters spilled out.

Now, when I open my wallet and see the blank space where the card once was, I feel a pang of regret for forfeiting it. Friends advised, although a bit late, that I should have simply said that I had lost the card. I kicked myself for not having the presence of mind, but its ok. I don't think I could have got myself to pretend something I'm not.

But I really do miss it.