From sad to worse

Emma woke up today at 6.30. No usual twittering, she just asked "Monkey home?" in a sad little voice.

So at 6.31 and already feeling wobbly I phoned the £1000-a-minute 24 hour railway helpline. A nice-sounding lady gave me the number of Biel/Bienne station.

At 9 I phoned them up. No monkey. Fill in a lost property form on the internet, madame.

At 9.05, with Emma usefully distracted with shelf-emptying, I filled out the form.
Please describe lost item: one light brown, soft cloth monkey, 14cm tall, 8 cm wide (approx). Well loved.

11.30. Emma's nap time. "Monkey?" she said, as I put her in her cot. "He's not here, my love. I'm so sorry." She bursts into uncontrollable sobbing. "Mon-KEY!" I take her out of bed and she clings on to me sobbing and gulping. I stroke her little soft head and tell her she is very brave. Then Gloria starts crying and suddenly we are all at it.

Both girls eventually go to sleep.

2pm Purchase replica Monkey from shop in St Andrews. Should be here by the end of the week.

4pm. Go to friend's house for tea. Glorymouse much more cheerful, but E still a bit subdued.

Bedtime. "Monkey?" says Emma as R gets her into her pyjamas, but it's not really a question. She knows he's gone.

We are never getting guinea pigs.