One Hand in My Pocket

No, not an Alanis Morrissette song. Well, okay, it is. But that's not what this is about. It's about walking around England with one hand in my pocket. No, not for that reason either. Perverts. And not to make sure it's still there either. Because it is. I checked. But I do this to keep all that bloody change from making noise.

The question of what the Brits do with this seemingly endless supply of change completely vexes me. You see, their smallest bill is the five pound bill. And their largest coin is also worth five pounds, but those are rare from what I can tell. But there are two-pound and one-pound coins abound. And they're huge. Then you have fifty pence coins, 20 pence coins, 10 pence, five pence, two pence, and one pence coins. Tons of jingly, jangly metal, eagerly waiting to rub a hole in your pocket.

What the hell do you Brits do with it? Do you leave it on your bureau, saving it up to cash in for fun money on your yearly holiday, as I do at home? Do you give it to the homeless? Do you leave it in your car to pay for car parks, or other things? Or, do you do what I do? You see, I let this build and build and build, until I can't take it anymore. Just when I feel I'm about to be buried beneath a sea of Queen's heads, I make it my sole purpose in life to spend it. And then I make my preparations by counting it out and sorting it, so that I don't waste anyone's time but my own. I sort it, in anticipation of, say, a two-pound sandwich, where I make that two pounds using the smallest denomination coins possible, so that I get rid of the greatest volume of coins possible. And if I don't prepare this way, sometimes I'll just unleash it upon someone I'm not too happy with, such as my dry cleaner. That's another story.

Inevitably, though, the following happens: just as you've spent your last coins, and gotten it down to a manageable number, you need those coins back. For instance, you're forced to use the car park, which only accepts coins as payments. Or you don't want to wait in line for the tube passes, so you try to use the automated machines, which only accepts coins. Or maybe you buy something that costs ninety pence, and all you have is a twenty-pound note. Now you feel like a twit paying for that Kit Kat bar with a Yuppy food stamp. So, what do you do? You break that bill, and end up with all that change you just worked so hard to get rid of. Why do I bother?