SOMEONE has stolen my most valuable possession from me.
Well, perhaps not the MOST valuable - thought I'm not sure. I feel a philosophical mood STEALING over me so I will resist the thief with all my might. Thieves have already stolen too much of my TIME this week.
And the worst of it is - I can't remember where I stored it or what I did with it.
One or two events stick in my memory.
I spent a happy day with my brother, his wife and two delightful tiny boys, and took my mother out for afternoon tea. I do remember all of that plesant catching up.
I came home early from school one day, with a 'putrid sore throat' as Jane Austen would have put it. An afternoon in bed gave me enough energy to return to my classroom the next morning.
I have spent much time in prayer for a friend who has just been diagnosed with a golf-ball sized tumour on one lung.
So the thieves didn't steal all of my time away, maybe - just my memory of it!