When I was growing up my mum kept a big muscular tomcat called Willy. One day Willycat brought in a mouse which promptly escaped to the cupboard under the stairs. We shut the cat in the lounge and rescued the mouse. When the cat was released he mewed and clawed outside the cupboard until we opened it for him and he then spent about quarter of an hour in the cupboard searching in minute detail for the mouse. He did the same thing again later that day, and did the same thing again once or twice daily for the next eight or ten years. He never found the mouse.
I was in Guildford this weekend, and one of my friends up there had bought two chocolate bars, eaten one of them, and lost the other. It's very hard not to keep looking in the places that you think something should be, even if you've already looked there. He arrived home from work peckish, and looked down the back of the microwave for his Double Decker for the fifth time in as many days and said "I know exactly how that poor bloody cat feels". It wasn't there.
Richard "where did you see it last?" B
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