Lost.

I wonder if there is a 'lost' gene. I reckon the answer is yes and I've definitely got it, and had it for as long as I can remember. For instance I remember as a schoolboy proudly carrying my football boots wrapped in brown paper onto the bus to school; and not so proudly retrieving them from the lost property at the bus depot next day. No wonder I was never the star player, lack of actual match practice I reckon.

Equally vivid is the time spent trying to remember where I'd parked my far from valuable bicycle; definitely stolen I decided, though why should anyone want my dilapidated bike only the Almighty could surely know. Except that in an illuminated flashback I suddenly remembered going to town on my bike and coming home on the bus. And incidentally returning to town and finding my bike still parked at the curb in the market place three days later. Those were the days, my friend!

Then there's library books. Normal people choose their books, take them home and read them; far too boring! Definitely so when you can choose them, take them to the car, put them on the car roof, open the car door, get in and drive off. More fun, if rather expensive.

I remember searching, in a Spanish town (was it San Sebastian) for my Mini-Cooper S parked that very same day; on a humid summer evening; and returning to no car. Even hiring a taxi to tour the area in the forlorn hope that we (my holiday friend and I) recognise a street, a house, anything. Until, walking, (the taxi had long since gone) we espied under a street lamp, over a bridge on the OTHER side of the river a glorious pale blue Mini Cooper S. Not unlike mine; in fact it was mine. We had unsuccessfully, not surprisingly not previously found my pride and joy having unwittingly, very stupidly crossed the river bridge and had therefore been searching on the wrong riverbank for several hours. (Dementia, don't talk to me about dementia, I invented it!)

Unfortunately this 'lost' thing runs in the family. My wife, Paulette, bless her wore large 'owl like' round glasses when we first met. Probably to please me she graduated to contact lenses, with mixed success. When we travelled on honeymoon in my Mini Cooper she triumphantly sported her newish contact lenses. Only they tended to fall out with regular monotony. You need to search for a contact lens in a car full of confetti to really have fun. (My wife crashed the car on honeymoon in the Lake District and we're still married! Shows what a forgiving sort of chap I am!)

I remember being pulled up a sand dune at Sheringham by our less than well behaved bull terrier Buster, Paulette, the children and myself. And what should 'pop out' but one of my wife's contact lenses. On a sand dune, I ask you! Finding a contact lens amongst hundreds of tons of sand, no chance, surely one of natures most difficult tasks. Mind you, I was more successful when my wife lost a lens in the shower. I went to the drains, patiently emptied out all the filthy stagnant, foul smelling water and patiently sifted the gritty, oozing contents; a labour of love, true love. (Every beetle 'shell' felt just like a lens to the touch.) And surprise, surprise, after around two hours I found it. And do you know what, she refused to wear it again; now there's gratitude for you!

We didn't have much luck with my wife's contact lenses. They were forever falling out. they usually stick to the clothes of the person wearing them. The trick is to undress, pile the clothes in a neat pile on the floor and then go through them very carefully. Now this gets great interest if in, say Marks and Spencer, but at home in the same circumstances interest in the lens diminishes for some considerable time.

Life goes on. I notice much time is spent in our family searching for children's dummies, schoolbags, coats, nintendos, you name it, we apparently lose it. Definitely a family of 'losers'. But I bet we're not on our own. What is the biggest thing you've lost; or the most important. And whose the biggest 'loser' in your family, you or the kids.