Saga of the missing suitcase: part 2

Well, the grieving period lasted about a day (I firmly believe that for any loss, from a real bereavement to a lost ten pound note, has its permitted period of grief). It involved lots of little "oh, there was that! And that too! And the rather expensive thingy as well!"  But now that I have regained my sanity, I can see a plus side.

My overnight case, which largely accompanies me when I travel for babysitting purposes, and us as an extra when we go on holiday, is old. And because I'm disorganised and untidy, there is an accumulation of silly little things that "might come in useful": freebie pots of moisturiser, odd bits of paper I use as bookmarks, nail files, and....well, actually, I've now forgotten, so they can't be that important, can they? But I know there were quite a lot of them.

Post grief, I'm beginning to dream of a brand new, clean, empty replacement. Red, I think, as we always miss ours in the airport carousel. A lovely new sponge bag (mine is old, and full of....well, dross). A new shaver for John. Lovely new make-up. That kind of thing. I still grieve for my wonderful, cosy White Company pyjamas (a treat), but hey, spring is here, so maybe I shan't need them for much longer (by next winter,  I shall have got over it). And the superb new novel I was reviewing for Amazon. And the sort of  mini electric blanket I use in my children's very cold houses, but spring etc etc...

So now, when I make one of my regular calls to lovely Tamara at the lost property place, who is kind  and helpful and laughs heartily at my very feeble jokes, I'm beginning to hope the news is bad. I shan't even mind that the cab driver (I left the case in a taxi) may now be sporting my lovely pyjamas (you don't have to laugh, but Tamara thought this was hilarious, bless her).

And the expense? As my late husband would have said,  think of that as school fees. Wise man.