My Man from Nepal

This is my man from Nepal: a waiter in Loudon's, a real charmer and a human bill board for pithy sayings. To my eternal regret I don't have his name- I will have to remedy that at my next visit.

Today I was invited once more to escape the 'snagging' in the Dower House. His Lordship likes to oversee the work and be able to moan later about the interruptions to his current literary oeuvre.

Apart from lingering over a hot chocolate in Loudon's, I've spent a considerable time this morning trying to find a drawing book of mine. It seems impossible to not only mislay friends in the big wide world, but also to mislay a very large pink sketch book in a flat of this size where there are minimal hiding places.

I thought I knew where it was, but it had other ideas and I've emptied bookcases and cupboards and it still evades me.
The annoying thing is that as soon as I eliminate one resting place, I'm convinced I visualise it somewhere else, but it's not there either.

I have seen it since we moved so I know it's here somewhere, but where? The fridge and the freezer are too small and the dishwasher and washing machine have been checked.
The more I can't find it, the more I want it. However it's a great spring cleaning wheeze as I clear out all manner of corners.

Daughter # 3 is winging her way back to Oman and the warmth today. It was a very short visit, but lovely to see her and we are looking forward to another visit later in the year.