We have three compasses. I don’t know why, but apparently they are all different (bit technical for a bear of little brain) and they all live on David’s shelves, separately of course.
It came to light that one of the said compasses, the one I prefer (the simplest, obviously) had gone for a walk. Unaccompanied.
The shelves were emptied and restacked, it was amazing what
rubbish was found, but not the missing compass.
The car was searched.
Various coat and rucksack pockets.
So, Ciara and I thought we’d empty the hat and glove box, (a large, slatted pine box under the stairs) and search all the other bags and waterproof jacket pockets therein. First though, I pulled said box away from the wall, just for a peek.
And lo! There was the wandering compass!
Relief. The hand doesn’t have to reach into the pocket for a new one.