WELL, I blame their father. I usually do. Many years ago, when we were young and in love, I knitted him a twelve foot long reversible Arsenal scarf. I don't know who was dafter - me for knitting it or him for wearing it. It was red and white on one side, blue and yellow on the other. And he lost it. How can anyone LOSE a twelve foot scarf?

But he did. He has also over the years lost enough briefcases to keep the entire Civil Service equipped, not to mention going to a funeral in a long navy coat and coming back in a short black one.

The boys, of course, have inherited his talent for losing things.

Senior Son is absolutely hopeless. Driving licences, jumpers, about a dozen bank cards and once, memorably, his history course work which we found under the bottom sheet of his bed. And just don't mention car keys.

His brother's not so good either. He once lost a brand new pair of school shoes - in school. They're probably safe somewhere - along with the couple of pairs of football boots, a decent jacket, all his school ties and a mobile phone - most of which have disappeared in the last few months. Many of his friends must have lost things too - which could explain why we regularly have ties, football shirts and cricket whites with other people's name tags.

(And OK, OK, I once lost £300 of railway tickets. But I found them, months afterwards, in my file marked "Household Guarantees" - and GNER , bless them, gave me my money back, so I'm not really a loser).

The latest thing to go missing was Smaller Son's wallet. Not just the wallet, a rather nice little job from River Island , but also what was in it - a fiver, two bank cards, one very new, and his driving licence. And also, for reasons known only to boys, a friend's driving licence.

We searched the house from top to bottom, turned the car and garage and his bedroom upside down. He'd lost it when going out to play football. He searched playing fields by torchlight. His friends went out and looked. No joy.

He rang the police. He sat on the end of the phone and waited half a lifetime to cancel his bank cards ("Thank you for waiting,. Your call is very important to us.") He resigned himself to going through all the rigmarole, and expense, of getting a replacement driving licence, and for paying for one for his mate.

He retraced his steps again. And finally, he gave up and just muttered away being annoyed with himself.

And then the phone ring. Someone from Hurworth had been in our village visiting relatives and had found the boy's wallet. It must have fallen out of the car when he slowed down at a junction and slammed an open door. The Good Samaritans had tried to ring, but we were out, so had taken it home and would drop it in next day.

No way. Smaller Son was out of the house like a shot, pausing only to buy a box of thank you chocs en-route to Hurworth. He was amazingly relieved, grateful and appreciative, yet again, of the kindness of strangers.

From now on, he says, he is going to take Much More Care of his possessions. Once he's found his car keys..

Published: 13/06/2002