This is a Catholic thing, you mightn’t understand.

After I posted The Lament of My Thomas Sabo Charm Bracelet yesterday, I got up and went through the cupboards again. Since I had purged so much before I moved — and even during — I knew this was a pointless endeavour. Equally, though, I knew that I hadn’t thrown out a bag of stuff by mistake, or left anything behind in the old flat, or made the bracelet disappear with the power of my mind.

So I did what any right thinking person would do, and asked Saint Anthony:

Saint Anthony, Saint Anthony,
Please come around.
Something is lost and can’t be found.
Saint Anthony, where is my _____________???

He doesn’t seem to mind if you insert ‘effing, shagging, arse-ing’ before the name of the lost object, but I do try to watch my language.

Then, seriously, the thing that happens is, you get a thought in your mind that won’t go away. Like, you head right for that shoulder bag you haven’t used in ages, or you go to a drawer that you are positive you looked through thoroughly.

So when I found myself standing in front of one particular cupboard in my bedroom, I felt a surge of hope. I had been through the two file boxes that were behind that door, even though I was sure I wouldn’t have tried to wedge the little stripey jewellery box thing into one of them. But who knew, really? I was fairly insane from last Tuesday to this past Sunday.

Whatever, Saint Anthony, I thought, as I opened the door — and then I remembered! That Sketchers bag, the one I use when I go swimming! Maybe I put the stuff in there!

Now, the heathens among us may be thinking, Yeah, well, she was sure to dig it out at some stage. Okay, I’ll buy that argument. The thing is, however, I had stuffed that bag to the back of the shelf because I don’t swim at the moment, and really have no need of it*. Shoved it all the way to the back of the shelf, and piled all my jumpers and comfy lounging gear up in front.

There was no way I was going to dig into that bag — until I said the wee prayer, and Saint Anthony made me do it.

Yayyyyyyyyyyyy! I just would have hated to have lost this, it was such a lovely gift, and I always think of the gals who gave it to me whenever I wear it. And there’s the fact that I buy myself a charm now and again when I am feeling good about something.

In fact! This is probably a good time to but myself a new charm, to commemorate this momentous event.

I wonder, is there a Saint Anthony charm…?

*Anybody got the ska on the Monkstown pool?