PETER had once again thwarted the telly’s ambition of non-compliance with my wishes, even if I asked it ever so nicely.
He had returned from whence he came, leaving me to grapple with life in general single-handedly.
With a satisfied smirk I embarked on my day’s tasks – it was then that I discovered that I was missing my glasses. Not quite the end of the world – I only need them for reading print smaller than font size 12 – this size.
But sooner or later I would need them, so I began a structured sweep of the house. I started with where they should be, moved on to where they could possibly be, and ended up with anywhere, where I hadn’t looked before, including the top of my head.
Where could they possibly have got to? Had the black hole, which seems to be based in my house, sucked them into space?
I wandered the house like a substantial wraith, wringing my hands and repeating in tones sorrowful ‘Where are my glasses?’
No answer was forthcoming – they didn’t call out with ‘Here! We’re over here!’
Could Peter have taken them in error for his own?
No, he’d have noticed by now, and returned them.
I began to resign myself to getting some more, at huge damage to the bank balance.
In despair I slumped down on the spare bed – just missing sitting on my glasses, which were hiding in plain sight, in the middle of the bed!
But that’s not all I lost…