Sinking

It was around this time (as we continued our walk around Rottingdean) that the Gorse Fox got that sinking feeling. You know how it is. Someone (in this case the Silver Vixen) says something quite innocuous like "Let's get a cup of tea and a snack". You think, "Good idea" and autonomically your hands move to you pockets.

The sinking feeling began. Trouser pockets did not contain a bulging wallet. Check jacket, he thinks. Side pockets, breast pockets, inside pocket... all conspicuous by their absence of the bulging wallet. Check inner fleece jacket. Side pockets, inside pockets all empty.

Mental checklist started - where was it last time it was seen (on desk in study, when GF picked it up to come out). No jackets on at time... must be in trousers. Trouser pockets re-checked. Nada.

What was in it? Cash (but not a lot), credit cards, debit cards, train pass, Tottenham Hostspur membership card, National Trust Membership card, stamps... this was going to take a lot of sorting out. Despite the Silver Vixen offering to pay for the tea - the Gorse Fox was sufficiently concerned to spurn the offer of a snack and we headed back home. It was evident that there would be many calls to make.

Arriving home he went straight to the study... and there, sitting nonchalontly on the desk, smirking mischievously at him, lay the absent wallet. The Gorse Fox gave it a stern talking to and suspects it won't have the affrontery to try that trick again.