“I can’t decide which of the 27 cleansers to use”

I’m walking in London to the Tube and happen to glance down at my hand.

My ring-mad, silver and the size of a crème egg- is missing.

My old friend V, says “not to worry, it’ll be in the house somewhere.” While my friend has all the A* merits of friendship like loyalty, good humour and an ability to sustain a fondness for me despite knowing me for 20 years, she’s also the undisputed World Queen of Clutter. I’m staying in her house, her jumbled kingdom. I stiffen; I know immediately that my ring is gone for good.