I took part in a hunt this morning – for Hilary’s keys! She had got up as usual and was ready to take me for my walk. It looked very exciting outside – frosty and white everywhere. I got my lead on and was waiting expectantly at the front door for her while she faffed around as usual.

But disaster! Her keys were nowhere to be found! They usually hang on the cat (not Monty, that would be stupid, an ornamental metal cat with pegs that is on the wall in the hall) but they weren’t there! She checked they hadn’t fallen down. No. She checked the pockets of the coat she had been wearing yesterday when she came in. No. She checked the units in the kitchen where she had thrown stuff down when she came in. No. She checked her handbag. No. She checked her work stuff. No. She wondered if they had been left in the car by mistake – but we couldn’t open the front door to find out, as there were no keys! (the spare set that usually lives on the cat too have been taken by our joiner – who still hasn’t returned to finish off the work in the kitchen!)

She tried the kitchen again. No. She tried the coat pockets again. No. She tried the coat she hadn’t worn yesterday incase the keys had moved by themselves. Nope. She then tried her handbag again this time emptying the contents on the floor (my goodness what a lot of clutter she carries around. But no keys)

Her patience was going at this point. She decided to go and wake up Tim and see if he knew anything, or at least to borrow his keys so we could go outside and check the car.

Guess what. He had her keys- in the back pocket of the jeans he had been wearing yesterday. Obvious really.