Phone loss

Ahhh fucccck.

Sunday was so nice, all really nice food and friends, and now I've got in and can't find my phone.

I don't know whether it's been swallowed by Will's armchair, or is languishing somewhere on the Underground, or has been cast into some shrubbery by a disgusted pickpocket (unlikely in London I know. The shrubbery that is).

All I know is, it's going straight to its answering machine when I ring it, where a telegraphic female voice intonates at me in a really irritating fashion. As we all know, this is never a good sign.

I can't even ring Will as his number's in my phone.

Please let it still be mine, somewhere. I feel like someone's hacked off a secret ear I took too much for granted.