Bitch on the Blog

October 1, 2016


I do delight in simple joys. No need to climb the Kilimanjaro or do a Michelangelo for me to be happy. All it takes is to find my long lost small, nay tiny, kitchen knife. Its disappearance having been a mystery to me.

Yes, I know and you won’t remember, once upon a time I lamented my preferred potato peeler doing a runner. And other stuff.

The little knife was worse. I looked for it everywhere, asked people if they had “borrowed” it, emptied the garbage to sift through in case I’d accidentally thrown it out with the onion peel. No good. You can will certain things, but sometimes you have to acknowledge that loss means loss. What’s twenty years between you and a knife, you may ask. Well, you don’t throw loyal friends on the dung heap and forget about them in a jiffy, do you? As it were I felt awful that the knife might have thought me careless, might have felt discarded. What sort of an ending to a life is that?

Two hours ago I shifted an appliance, normally immobile and firmly anchored on the kitchen counter – and what do you know and what had slipped underneath it?  I did a double take and then clasped my old friend. That I didn’t cut myself with rapture is only due to my foresight and current lack of band aids in the house. Six months, Sweethearts, six months! Never ever give up on anything, anyone – particularly not your favourite knife.

And do search in unlikely places; behind the curtains if all fails.




  1. Small knives…. my mother lost one and a year later it was found in the compost……Herself has lost one too… years ago… and every so often it’s mentioned again.
    Me? I lose things too…..and some are long term losses… like Tramp…. as a child I used to be given Wade Whimsies and I still have some of them but Tramp, the lion, the rhinocerous and an aligator have disappeared from the tin in which they were kept.. great sadness when I think of them. Perhaps they went the same way that my photo album went in my teenage years…. I found it years later amongst some things my sister had decided to throw out when she was living with us….sans phots of course… but I found some of those amongst stuff she had left in our loft…. so perhaps Herself’s knife and Tramp will turn up.

    The worst hng is when I mislay something and then stomp around looking for it and getting annoyed when others also look for it. I then give up and soem one calmly goes and finds it and presents it to me in a triumphant amnner…. Grrr!

    Comment by magpie11 — October 1, 2016 @ 16:36 | Reply

    • I do recognize the dynamics you describe in your second paragraph. I don’t know why, but people will resent you for trying to “find” stuff for them. Maybe it’s some sort of invasion of privacy, or proof of their incompetence or whatever they make of their momentary shortcoming. It’s also the reason I never tell anyone when I (with a capital I) have lost anything. It’s more peaceful. No one gets hurt, no one is offended – and lo and behold the moment you aren’t looking you’ll find.

      When other people lose things I pretend I am not looking on their behalf as not to offend (see above), but when I know someone and their ways plus being methodical in my ways you can bet your bottom currency that I’ll find. Neither do I expect any gratitude.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — October 1, 2016 @ 18:17 | Reply

  2. Oh… knives……. I have the Double Diamond penknife that my father in law gave me. It disappeared whilst sating with the inlaws and was offered to me a few months before mother in law shuffled off this mortal coil with some story about it being the same as the one father in law gave me…. yes it was… exactly the same…. the same nick in the blade….

    Comment by magpie11 — October 1, 2016 @ 16:39 | Reply

  3. Not to sound boastful, but the only thing that I have ever lost in my kitchen is my cool. That is, when I cannot find what I need because someone else, usually my son and heir, had misplaced it.

    Comment by rummuser — October 2, 2016 @ 13:00 | Reply

    • Nice one, Ramana. Losing one’s cool. That’s a big loss indeed. It’s why I recommend to be organized before you start so much as prepping food.

      Get all you need out before you realize that the one vital ingredient, say a lemon, is missing. It’s why it’s grand that I live in what I call “Restaurant Street”. One next to the other, catering for all eventualities. “Only you, Mama”, the Angel says when I rush downstairs to ask them for that lemon, two eggs, a bulb of garlic or, the Indian Restaurant opposite, for a cup of coconut milk. These are genuine emergencies and I always offer to pay. None of them accepts. Which, I suppose, does link back to your Neighbourhood scheme on Friday. Exchanging favours. Good will and all that. Looking out for each other. it’s home.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — October 2, 2016 @ 16:48 | Reply

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