THAT’S it. I have cast the spell. Committed myself to the mysterious fourth dimension where an object that exists in one region of space has at least one part in another subregion of the ether.

Lost, well me too. Or at least my purse, containing my driving licence, library card, and English Heritage membership and a few badly needed fivers.

For the past week I have searched the house for that purse. Not always with any real purpose, more hoping by chance that if I ruffled a few piles of washing, checked out my array of shopping bags and dug down behind the cushions on the settee, it might turn up.

Now I knew that there wasn’t any bank cards in there as I had taken out my debit card to prevent temptation when I went shopping with a friend the previous weekend.

Last week had been a little different. Friends were staying, two sets of couples, and I had been away with one of them to attend the funeral of a dear soulmate, with whom we both had been at school with in Malta.

As another of my close friends had made all the arrangements for accommodation and we could sort out any financial matters between ourselves for flowers and donations, I only had need of cash for drinks and a meal at the hotel.

But this week the search went into another gear. Had it fallen out of my pocket when I was mucking out the hens. Half an hour later and covered in straw I surmised it had not. In the car? No. Landrover? No. John’s pockets checked. You never know, but no.

So this morning I have submitted myself to the DVLA website to complete a driving licence renewal application and admit with shame that I had lost my card. All went well until I had to submit a password for my Government Gateway User ID.

After six, yes six attempts to create an acceptable password, I succeeded, but whether I will ever remember the obtuse collection of letters and numbers is anyone’s guess.

Application checked, paid for and sent, I went into the pantry to fetch a jug of milk from the fridge and make a reviving cup of tea. This was less that two minutes after I had pressed send for a new licence. There, staring me in the face at the top of the fridge was my purse. Driving licence enclosed. Spooky.