Lost things

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My Mother was here for a visit recently. Much as I love her, I hate the fact that she ‘tidies’ the kitchen for me. Attempts to stop her doing this have thus far proved unsucessful. As she is 70 soon, I am not holding my breath for that to change any time soon. It would not be so bad if you realised what was missing at the time. This becomes apparent over anything from the next few days to the next month, depending on regularity of use. Items which are ergonomically positioned for ease of use are put away by Mother, without system, or even a memory of where they have gone, merely to look Tidy. The olive oil has now come up missing. I vaguely remember her waving it at me, saying ‘where do you want this?’. Err, where I had it, actually. Now it has come up missing. Not a big deal, olive oil, from a cut price supermarket, but it may be gone forever. My cousin is still smarting from the trivet my Mother put away for her so well, that it still missing 20 years later. Its Trivetgate all over again…

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