I think there is something odd about our new
I call it the Bermuda Triangle residence.
Things go missing. Weird things happen.
The area we live in now must be a quarter of the size we are used to. I knew where everything was at our old house.
Here, with less room, we can’t find a damn thing!
So it’s a very tiny space.
Now, the new thing is that at EXACTLY three thirty EVERY afternoon, an alarm goes off in the passage area. I know which alarm it is. It’s my tiny white alarm that times things. It’s one of the things I’ve lost. It’s about two inches by two inches and I cannot remember ever having set it for exactly three thirty in the afternoon every twenty-four hours. Why would I DO such a thing?
Do you think we can find it?
Every afternoon we are there listening, cocking our heads, wondering where the hell the peep peep peep is coming from.
We have unpacked every wretched thing in the area we think the beast lurks, but to no avail. Unless it’s burrowed under the floor – and that’s impossible because this place was built in 1952 with a concrete floor. To World War Two bomb-shelter specifications actually!
So daily we hunt the beast.
And look for things we’ve lost.