SAINT ANTHONY AND ANOTHER TSUANMI

   Good morning dear reader and welcome to Comb Towers. It is a lovely sunny morning and so far, fingers crossed, all is well in my world. I am very grateful for this state of affairs as we have had a few hairy moments this week.

   At the beginning of the week Spouse managed to mislay his bank debit card. He thought he might have left it at the petrol station but that was not the case - there was no trace of it there. I'm sure, my dear reader that we have all been there. That awful sinking feeling when you realise you have lost track of the wretched card and it is not to be found anywhere and you retrace your steps and ask in every shop you have been into since you think you last were in possession of it, then search all bags and clothing in desperation. 

   It was a beautiful sunny day and I had been out walking for an hour or so and came home to find Spouse, torch in hand, forensically examining the car for any trace of his card. Apparently he had turned the vehicle inside out several times and all to no avail. He had turned his den upside down searching for it, (mind you, how he would ever find anything in there I don't know) and he had been back to the petrol station and walked the grounds, eyes glued to the tarmac in hope. Anxiety and tension oozed from his every pore. This man needed help and quick.

   And now, dear reader, just for once in my life I enter the smug zone. Actually, I can't take the credit, it belongs to Saint Anthony of Padua, patron saint of all things lost. I could not count the number of times in my life that Saint Anthony has saved my bacon and directed me towards my lost items. He has never failed me when I ask him to help me find mislaid items. He is a great and much revered saint and my constant companion, as I am always losing things. So ... of course I turned to Saint Anthony, dear reader and offered up a prayer to ask his help to find the card. Then I went and sat in the passenger seat of the car and looked about me.  A small cubby hole in the centre of the dashboard caught my attention. Some of my small notebooks were in it. I picked them out and low and behold the card was at the bottom of the pile. Spouse had gone into the house to fetch a more powerful torch for his search. When he returned to the car I held out the card,  huge grin on my face. He stared at it in disbelief.  'Where did you find it?'  I pointed to the cubbyhole. 'In there, underneath my notebooks.'  'But I looked in there!'  'Not well enough it would seem,' says I smugly. 'You should have prayed to Saint Anthony first off,' says I.  'I did and he came up trumps like he always does. You owe him big time and I think a big thank you is in order.' Spouse agreed and heartily thanked Saint Anthony.

   Ah, but that old proverb  pride goes before a fall   kicked in a couple of days later. My reign in the smug zone did not last. Oh, dear reader, how do I do it? Fall over my own feet yet again. It's not as if I have enormous feet, I don't! And yet I can trip myself up with ease, which is what I did when mopping the kitchen floor. I think we've been here before, dear reader; tsumanis of water flowing from bowls and buckets. Last time I managed to confine myself to the kitchen floor, but this time as I was mopping the utility room floor, I fell over my own feet and upskittled the bucket, sending soapy water flowing into the hall, into the sitting room and into the kitchen. How did all that water know to turn right into the sitting room and into the kitchen? Why didn't it just keep on going in a straight line throughout the hall? One of life's little mysteries. There are rugs in the hall and in the sitting room and you can imagine the soggy mess they were left in! It was Spouse's turn to shake his head and help with the mopping up operations - keeping me well away from the bucket this time! Fortunately we were going away the next day to celebrate our wedding anniversary and so we rigged up the drying racks in the conservatory and draped the rugs over them, hopefully to dry whilst we were away. Luckily, the sun must have shone in our absence as they had dried out on our return. 

   We enjoyed our trip to Northumberland. It was wet, wild and windy a lot of the time but still great fun and best of all, no catastrophes befell us. And now, back home in North Yorkshire, the weather is glorious. The library garden is winter ready and our own is getting there.  I hope you enjoy this wonderful October sunshine, dear reader. We have to make the most of it whilst it lasts. Have a good week and I'll see you soon.