It's been a momentous day for CNPS. For a couple of weeks now I've been searching out a 333, to no avail. I think it's been my most difficult number yet. I've seen every other triple number combination at least once (and I've spotted about six 444s) and looked at thousands of cars. I think I might even have spotted every number except 333 in the last fortnight. It had got to the point where I was thinking of taking some Tippex to the next 388 I saw (and I've seen at least ten of them) to make it into the number I required.
A few days ago I thought I saw a 333 in Sainsburys car park, but as I got closer I saw it was a 933, but the bolt that attached the number plate was right in the circle of the 9.
I thought I was never going to see another 333, but I was going to die before I gave up trying.
Finally this afternoon as I neared the end of my 8 mile run, the prize I had sought drove passed me. A personalised number plate, but I was too excited to notice the letters. All I saw was the three threes greeting me. It was such a triumph that my weary legs were born anew and my pace picked up. I even slightly lengthened my run to take in a 334 that I knew was parked on a road near to my house.
But being over a third of the way through my quest (It should all be over in just another 27 months) was not the most exciting thing about the day. This development brought me ever closer to a more important landmark; something that all CNPSers look forward to with pride; something that makes us closer to being as divine as the CNPS gods themselves: I was very close to being able to use the number-plate of my own car. 336.
Now, I did already know the location of a 335; I pass it every day on my run. But it's about half way round and there was no way I was going to be able to get back there today. I realised that I would definitely be able to pick up that one extra number tomorrow, but was slightly concerned. What if on the remainder of my run I saw a different 336? This was quite likely as tomorrow is a long run, as I've seen in the last few weeks there are loads of numbers in the 330s around, just not many 333s. It would actually be quite disappointing to score a 336 that was not my own car. Having the car number plate you need is like a free turn. I could, of course, just not look at any car number plates after I've spotted the 335, but then what if I missed a 336 and a 337 was going over Putney Bridge. With a 338 on its tail. I wouldn't be able to live with myself. And anyone who plays CNPS knows that the idea of not looking at numberplates is an impossibility. We can't help ourselves. I will be looking at car number plates until I die (and possibly as I die, if I look at them too closely and forget to look at the traffic coming in the other direction).
There was also the worry that I might see a 335 whilst I was driving my car. Of course, the fact that I am in the vehicle means I can't see the number plate, and even though I know the number plate is there, I can't count it unless I spot it. What if I wasn't in a position to park and a 337, 338 and 339 all came passed?
I was going out to a couple of parties tonight (and on both these occasions it was rubbish that I wasn't drinking and I felt very out of place and uncomfortable; so much for my dreams of a sober life. I didn't drink though), my hope would be that at some point I would see a 335 and then be able to return home to collect my 336, from my own number plate and all the pride and satisfaction that this entailed.
Otherwise it would be the long run tomorrow, looking, but kind of hoping not to see the 336 that I, ironically, covetted.
The whole evening of travelling went by and I saw another 334 and a 337 and a 338 and two other 336s, but no 335. At around 2am I walked around looking for a taxi, and also for a 335, but neither were in view. I walked a couple of miles through central London, before finally picking up a taxi around Bond Street. It's numberplate was not 335.
I checked all the cars that we encountered on the journey home (my sobriety making this much easier than it has been in the past), but to no avail.
But then on Shepherd's Bush green (the gathering place of all the most normal people in the world) and less than a mile from my home a 335 swung in front of the cab. I was delighted, but nervous. Knowing my luck a 336 would appear in the last couple of minutes of the journey and ruin this crucial CNPSing moment.
But no, I was lucky. I arrived home, paid the driver, watched him drive off and then looked at my car across the road. I looked carefully at my number-plate to make sure I wasn't being fooled by any bolts or lost paint-work. No, I wasn't. It was still a 336. I had touched the face of God.
Then I realised I had to get through the remaining 663 numbers without any more bankers like this and I saw how much further I had to go.
CNPS is a cruel mistress.
Because of writing this rubbish I have been unable to tell you about the woman I saw on the tube who had the most extraordinary drawn on eyebrows that you have ever seen. May the next 27 months pass quickly so I need never bother you with this CNPS nonsense ever again.
