I lost another scarf yesterday. It was my big colourful winter scarf. I had lost my smaller but still colourful and still quite big scarf about a month ago. I used to lose umbrellas, but now I have become increasingly wary of where I am putting them down. I have started putting my favourite umbrella standing uptight in wastepaper bins. My mind has now clocked this and checks the bin before I leave any room. Now it’s scarfs that are disappearing from my life. I had the big colourful winter scarf when I left the tube station at Sloane Square. After twenty minutes trekking round Chelsea it was no longer about me. I had taken it off, as the weather had become momentarily milder. I had too many objects about me. A heavy bag, a coat and a jacket. It was too much for my mind to manage. The scarf went awol. I thought; shall I retrace my steps? It would have been too complicated and scarves come and go. Accept it. It had had a good run. The upshot being I have now dug out a blue and black striped scarf one of my sisters once bought me at Christmas. I remember thinking when I unwrapped it from the Christmas wrapping paper, I’ll never wear that. It is another look. Sober, scholarly. Not bad, actually, though less warm and less fun. I’ll give it a chance. Neither I nor it ever suspected it would be called into action. Which just goes to show. When the manager calls you off the bench, you must be ready to show your paces.

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