DOES anyone else lose keys? I do regularly.

Yesterday, I spent three and a half hours looking for a set of keys that was just there - three and a half hours ago - but went missing immediately afterwards. I had to ring up a very patient and understanding husband and ask him to bring me my spare set, hoping against hope all the time that the poltergeist, that had removed the keys in the first place, would put them back as soon as it realised that I had outwitted its fiendish plan.

It is not surprising that things have gone missing this week. My daughter Bryony, son-in-law Chris and baby Jessica have been staying with us for a week whilst Chris attends a power saw and drill course at the local medical school to extend his knowledge of orthopaedic surgery.

I jest not. He has asked for a chain saw for his birthday.

The farmhouse, meanwhile, has been inundated with nappies, changing mats, moist wipes for baby's bottom and baby bottom balm. Little pink outfits drape over every surface and we fall over a baby carrier, carrycot, Moses basket, baby bouncer and baby sling in fast succession. Just how much stuff does one tiny baby need? This much apparently. Jessica sleeps on sublimely indifferent to the massing of bottom technology and baby transport, and would much rather slumber in her mum and dad's bed than any of the multiple sleeping arrangements provided for her.

This newcomer to the family circle baffles the dogs. Holly, our spaniel puppy who has a neat trick in bounding onto laps that's likely to be very popular in the shooting truck next season, is reduced to a fawning whimper when she sees Jessica being held in our arms. We have had to be careful with the Jack Russell, Bud, as he is up on his hind legs, ears alert, ready to investigate a bit too closely for comfort. Meg the Labrador and Nell, our border collie, just circle warily. The cat is completely disinterested and just sits wowing by her sachets of food. If Jessica's cot provided a warm, safe haven from the rest of the world then, and only then, would the cat consider her worth a thought.

Meanwhile, the rest of the family is matching my own lack of personal development. This morning, I was asked to help John and Geoff in the yard with the bulls. The three bulls going off to market this week need new ear tags as, over the course of the last few months, their first tags had been ripped out.

(A quick aside on the subject of going to market. The Land Rover and trailer have to negotiate a set of humps on the road to market, humps designed to slow traffic down. These humps are difficult to negotiate without causing discomfort to the beasts in the trailer. What is also dangerous about them is that the land wheel of the trailer, which has to be lifted once the trailer is attached and locked on, can be lifted itself by the height of the speed humps, and could in theory lift the trailer off. What price safety then?)

Back to the yard. I spent the morning enduring a string of barbed comments about never remembering where I put anything, etc, etc, and so was delighted to observe that when we arrived at the time of actually replacing the bulls' ear tags, bull chafing in the crush, all hell on, etc, etc, neither John nor Geoff could remember where they had put the stapler.

Oh, revenge is sweet.

Updated: 09:41 Wednesday, July 24, 2002