All that bank holiday sun must have gone to my head last week when a trip to the Co-op to buy a couple of Magnums ended in me leaving my purse at the checkout and several hours of panicking trying to find it the next day.
It’s not the first time this sort of thing has happened – a Yorkshire pudding’s probably better equipped to look after my possessions than I am.
I’m not going to do the obvious and ‘blame the blonde’. It’s probably more the fact that I’m generally distracted by everything that’s going on around me – a bit like a magpie is by shiny things.
My brother kindly (and to his great amusement) compares me to Dory, the dim-witted blue fish from Finding Nemo (just keep swimming just keep swimming...)
This is where having children is so great – haven’t they got ridiculously good memories? I have a diary, a calendar and a smart phone.
I have alarms and reminders going off constantly on various devices.
Yet more and more, he is becoming my personal organiser – my best hope of getting through the day unscathed, having done everything that needs to be done and with all my possessions still in my possession.
Smarter than a 10-year-old you ask? Pah! I’m barely smarter than a seven-year- old. But it seems I’m not alone.
A recent survey found that half of parents think their child is actually more int-elligent than themselves and could beat them in an IQ test.
I think my son is some kind of boy genius as he works out three digit sums in his head before I’ve even whipped out my phone and searched through an array of useless apps to find the calculator.
Yet I have noticed his memory can be conveniently selective – like when he just can’t remember what he got told off for at school today.
And on the flip side, there are times he remembers things I would rather he forgot, like when I woke at 6.30am to the flashing lights of the rubbish lorry outside and ran out practically naked because I’d forgotten to put the bins out.
I put it down to the fact their brains are still young and yet to be destroyed by alcohol, TV and an array of useless phone apps.
Because it wasn’t always this way for me. When I was 17, before mobile phones were really mainstream and you had to use telephone boxes to let your parents know where you were (also back in the day when if you made an arrangement, you stuck to it because there was no way of ducking out at the last minute with a text) I used to be able to remember all of my friends’ home phone numbers off by heart.
These days I can’t even remember to put my purse back in my bag after using it!
Luckily on this occasion, my purse was returned to me by the very kind Sabina from the Co -op in Fawcett Road, Southsea who even tried to hand-deliver it to my house to make sure it got to me okay!
Now that’s customer service.
Single mum-of-one Mandy Earle juggles a busy home life with her work as editor of Families Solent East, a free parenting magazine