Hunt the Spoon
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I seem to remember playing Hunt the Spoon in the dark with friends at early teenage parties. I can recall the squeals of anguish but as to how difficult or easy it was to actually find the spoon, I forget.
Mister E and I have invented our own updated version of the game for lockdown. It involves copious amounts of gardening where I wander around outside, trowel in hand and then, suddenly and inexplicably, lose it. The following hours or even days are spent aimlessly walking around the garden trying to find it.
Sadly, my favourite trowel, having initially turned up behind a pot after presumably falling from a wall, has now been AWOL for 2 weeks. I was using it to refill patio planters, hanging onto it as I walked from one part of the garden to another. Although I cannot believe anyone would be so stupid, I can only conclude that I have inadvertently buried it in one of the pots. Poking bamboo canes into them to see if they might strike metal has drawn a blank, but I can think of no other explanation unless of course passing wildlife abducts garden tools.
Irritated as I am by my shortfall in this respect, however, I have now exceeded even my own idiocy but this time with keys. When my mother left her home to stay with my sister during lockdown, I took custody of 3 keys and then subsequently moved a 4th from a window ledge to put it in an obvious but safe place. None of the keys were deliberately hidden but 3 months later, I haven't the faintest idea where I put them.
Now not only is Mister E joining in my party games but also my mother. All I need are some dark nights and then I really can say I've fully regressed to my childhood self.
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