In his latest effort to be helpful, the boggart has exceeded himself in the unintended, chaos, anxiety and despair – yes despair. Our boggart means no harm, like all boggarts he’s a tidy soul and helpful too but he does put things in strange places, he does turn switches on that we are sure we had turned off, or vice-versa, he does rearrange things so they are in an unexpected order (particularly husband’s sheet music for gigs) leaves crumbs, buttery fingerprints and smears of Marmite where you don’t expect them. He has a fondness for keys, bank cards, recently bought tubes of toothpaste, and must keep them in his boggart hole for a while as we are trying to find them. However, his most recent exploit has left me exhausted.
I have some items which I keep in a small tin which once contained some Laura Ashley toiletries. It’s a pretty little tin, almost navy round the edges and bright pink roses and a few green leaves on the top – not easy to miss! It’s about six inches by six, and maybe two inches deep, maybe slightly less. I have a unit in the bedroom with shelves bearing baskets of clothes, t-shirts, jumpers, scarves etc, and smaller three drawers, the top one has undies, the second has socks, and the third odd things like hats and keepsakes. The small tin is kept in the top drawer.
So last week I was going away, just overnight, so only needed a small bag; I took the Laura Ashley tin out of the drawer, put it on the bed while I finished packing the few things I was taking, and then in a rush hurried downstairs with bag. And the small rose patterned tin vanished. Obviously the boggart thought it was so cute he wanted it. I’d left it out of the drawer where it was usually kept, obviously wasn’t taking it away with me, so no doubt he thought he would look after it. I came upstairs before I left home, and was going to just tidy a little and put the tin away… and there it wasn’t. Now, I am terribly absent-minded and forgetful so, thinking I’d put it somewhere else, on the bedroom unit, on the floor by my bed, somewhere, and in a hurry to leave, I rushed off, not particularly worried because the tin would be somewhere. Maybe you read by blog about the missing keys a few weeks ago, well they turned up in an obvious place, didn’t they, so the tin would turn up when I got back home.
On my return – as you have probably guessed, the tin which contained some necessaries, had disappeared. I looked on the bed where I last remembered seeing it, and in the drawer where it usually resided. I looked under the pillows, in the bed, under the bed, even inside the duvet cover. I looked in the other drawers, I looked under the unit, in every other drawer in the bedroom, in all the bedside tables, and beneath and behind them. I looked in the wardrobe, I looked everywhere. I took all my husbands clothes out of the chest of drawers, took every item out of the wardrobe, looked on the Christmas present shelf, in the place we keep shoes… I looked everywhere, and then looked again, and again.
I looked in the bag I took away with me, and every other bags. I looked in the car, in my writing room in case I had wandered in, tin in hand. The cousin who I’d stayed with had messaged me, I’d messaged back, no tin. I looked in the spare room, the other room, the bathroom, downstairs – even weird places like the kitchen, the downstairs loo, the cleaning cupboard. All the while my annoyance with myself increased, and my anxiety – and I am not usually an anxious person!
I was lying on the floor, looking underneath the unit for the seventh time, and helpful husband who had also been looking everywhere, asked if I had looked in the drawers in the unit. Of course I had, the first, second and third place I had looked!!! Lying supine on the floor, I pulled open the bottom drawer – and there, on its side, wedged against the drawer above so only the underneath was visible – was the tin! I’d pulled out the drawer before several times, but couldn’t see to the back where the tin was on its side, lodged against the back.
I was exhausted, but at least peace and calm was restored!
Lois Elsden 