The Indiana Jane Chronicles

One of the things I've noticed as I get older is that I spend considerably more time looking for things.

Unfortunately, the Fedora, the bull whip and the constant references to historical objects have not convinced Mr T that my quests are anything but acute memory loss. Not even all my diaries and notepads covered in scribbles and doodles have convinced Mr T that I am the next Indiana Jones.

Yeah, yeah I suppose my Ford Cmax isn't really a convincing Ark but, believe me, those keys to it are extremely difficult to find.

Although definitely not as hard to find as the Holy Grail. (My glasses.)

You know, the other day I spent a good ten minutes searching the tennis clubhouse for my reading glasses only to discover them on my head. I'm not saying I felt stupid but when someone asked me what I was looking for and I replied "my glasses" and they raised an amused eyebrow I had a feeling that were pretty close by. In fact, so close by that I actually touched my nose to see if they were poised on the end of my nose- where they have been known to be on the odd occasion. It actually turned out they were on the top of my head which, I suppose, is slightly more trendy - sort of Jackie O or Jackie Collins.

Only without the vast fortune and best selling novels.

Hmm.

But forgetting where you put your glasses or car keys isn't real memory loss is it? Everyone does that don't they? It's just a consequence of a busy life. Right?

Okay, okay maybe not. After all, you don't hear many pilots saying;

Good afternoon Passengers this is flight 306 to New York. The weather is fine and will be cruising at altitude of 35,000 feet and arriving at JFK at 16.00 hours. I hope you have a pleasant journey. Now, if everyone could just look under their seats for my keys we can take off....

Now I have a tradition in my house on Christmas Eve. Because I am so lazy organised I wrap all the kids presents on Christmas Eve after they've gone to bed. The theory behind this is sound - if I wrap them beforehand I can't remember what I've bought them so the only way to avoid buying duplicate presents is to keep them unwrapped so I can refresh my mind at various intervals throughout the year.

Now I can hear you saying I should write a list to remind myself - but think that through Readers. I might have a problem. Now, I have actually tried wrapping the presents before Christmas but that usually leads to confusion because, strangely though it might be - I usually forget to label them. This can lead to intense disappointment - I don't think Master Jacob has got over the year he got socks and a DIY book and Mr T got Play Doh and a whoopee cushion.

So on Christmas Eve this year as usual I started wrapping my presents. I wrapped them all. Except the two I couldn't find. Obviously. Every year I can't find something - but to be fair it is usually something relatively small which, after a few minutes looking for it under the influence of sherry, I decide to give up and allocate it to a forthcoming birthday. This means by August I will usually be able to find it.

Perhaps at this juncture I should say that on April 20th this year I found a jewellery roll that I'd "lost" four years earlier.

It was in the same place I always put it.

I do not understand. I believe there is evil at work in our house. Or Mr T is trying to drive me mad.

Anyway, to get back to my story - there were two presents I couldn't find on Christmas Eve. But not the usual small presents. They were LARGE presents for Young Sam - a pair of boots and a fleece jacket. (He's a student now so I'm trying to encourage him to walk.) I tore the house apart looking for them - where does one hide a pair of walking boots in a massive box I asked myself? In the tumble drier? In the loft? Under the bed? Needless to say, I could not find them anywhere...

So after about two hours I was full of despair, so much so that Mr T kindly suggested that at some point I might have left them in the hallway and an opportunist thief might have taken them.

Bullshit. (I was slowly coming round to the idea that Mr T had thrown the boxes into the recycling without checking the contents.)

AND THEN I REMEMBERED WHERE I HAD PUT THEM...

In the laundry cupboard?

In the cloakroom?

In my wardrobe?

In the pantry?

No, Dear Readers. I remembered...

I had already wrapped them and put them under the Christmas tree.

Yep, I'd forgotten I'd decided to forget about my Christmas tradition and wrapped them several days earlier to make my Christmas Eve more restful. Supposedly.

Does that make sense? Or have you forgotten what I was talking about?

Anyway, what a balls up. Two hours wasted. It just goes to show that you should never ever change the habits of a life time.

So next year I'm sticking to wrapping everything up on Christmas Eve. And I'm not going to forget that I've made that decision. Hopefully.

And when I write to Santa I'm going to ask for a new memory.

And several pairs of reading glasses.