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A maiden aunt bustles into her kitchen where I'm a visiting and a munching and a quaffing all at the same time.

"Did you see a cake last night around here anywhere?" she asks politely.

"No," sez I, "was there cake?"

"I can't find it," says the aunt. "If you didn't take it, it must be here somewhere."

"Well I definitely didn't take it," sez me. "I'd remember cake if there had been one on my horizon last night."

"The problem is," sez the aunt musingly, "I hide them from you and then can't remember where I put them."

"Lots of people have that problem as they get older," I tell her reassuringly. "I'll have a look around."

I do one of my famous patented quick methodical searches.

I have a sort of talent for setting elderly maiden aunts' minds at rest when they can't find something which they've hidden from me.

With clinical proficiency I leave no stone unturned in the kitchen and its environs.

"There is no cake in this house," I inform the aunt finally when the dust settles.

She looks doubtful and begins rooting about in a book case.

"You're not going to find a cake there aged aunt," I say kindlily.

"I might find it here," quoth she, "because I tend to hide them in places you won't look."

With a flourish she draws forth a cake from behind a dusty well thumbed copy of Poldark.

"The one ****ing place I'd never look," I muse admiringly.