It's as funny (in the wry sense rather than the uproarious) as it's irritating that I've lost those two books. On the same day that I blogged that I'd picked them up from the library, they disappeared. I have no idea where. I thought I'd slipped them into a carrier bag of free gifts from the Abu Dhabi police (as you do), but when I got home they weren't there. Now, if someone had stolen them, why wouldn't they have stolen the nifty electronic calendar device, or the lap writing bag (very useful for possible note-taking on trains if I ever make this journey to Syria). No, they didn't, so surely thieves must be ruled out (although there have been a number of thefts in the college in recent weeks - someone's exercise shorts went missing, for heaven's sake).
Perhaps I left them beside the computer that I used to write last week's blog. If I did, they're not there now. Perhaps someone took them by mistake. Maybe they fell out of the bag and slipped to the floor of my car. Well, I've searched and they're not there. I have no idea. It means that I'm already behind with my reading and I'll have to pay for replacements, yet still not have the books for myself. Where's Monsieur Poirot when you need him?
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