I have managed to lose the biggest and best coat in the world.
My favourite bad weather coat, also known affectionately as my Shoplifter coat because if you were so inclined you could probably fit a weekly shop into it's vast and various concealed pockets. Or indeed everything you need for a weekend away if you were travelling Ryan Air.
I bought it in New York where they understand big coats.
Even though it was more than 15 years ago that I first spied it - it still looked exactly the same as the day I bought it.
It was big enough for two small children to shelter under - while I was wearing it.
Kieran discovered he could fit his head into one of the pockets on very cold days should he have forgotten his school hat.
It had a massive hood that made me look like the grim reaper or on a good day the woman out of the Scottish Widows commercial.
Its hem used to skim the ground making me a plausible possible extra in a Harry Potter movie.
It was not a fashion item, but it was a vital part of me.
I am grieving for my beloved coat.
I have retraced my footsteps and it just isn't anywhere and it's far too big to hide.
I can't believe it is gone, surely not stolen?
Surely I was the only one who coveted it.
There will never be another any where near as good.
It is a bad day here.
I've lost keys, purses, phones and they've just been hiding in the turmoil of my handbag.
But a vast winter coat?
It is obviously time for a very good tidy up or more sleep, I'll be misplacing the car next!
After a Crimewatch-esque reconstruction we discovered the coat was last seen on Friday when we went for lunch at the Windmill on the A30. They have been looking after it ever since. A happy ending. Perhaps I should get it microchipped?