I
was on my way to the airport on Sunday when, quite sensibly, I decided to check I had my passport. It would have been even more sensible to check before leaving the hotel, but hindsight’s a wonderful thing. So is having a passport, which, at that moment on that pavement in Stockholm, I did not.
Normal people would panic at this point but I’m not normal. I always lose my passport and then, a few minutes later, I always find it again. No cause for alarm. I took a deep breath and had another look.
Still no passport.
I tipped everything out of my bag and on to the pavement. Nothing, but I still didn’t panic. There are people who are good at losing things and people who are good at finding things. I’m one of the former. Harriet is one of the latter. She knows where everything is at all times and it’s such an amazing skill that I enjoy testing her. I’ll say, “Do you know where the Euro plug is?” and she’ll say, “Fourth drawer, cabinet, shower room.” I’ll say, “Have we still got that book about mushrooms?” and she’ll say, “One’s in the green box in the loft and one’s in the office next to the book about bees.”
