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! Continue reading