There’s nothing more annoying than losing your keys.
That sinking feeling you get as you turn you house upside down is one of life’s greatest irritations.
But what can be a temporary annoyance can have greater impact as I found out for myself on a trip to the Peak District.
I have always been a fan of the Bakewell tart so when the opportunity to take a trip to its homeland came I jumped at the chance.
After a lovely day out walking Bertie (the dog) in the snow and armed with a bag full of tarts things turned sour when we got back to the car.
I had thought my boyfriend was pulling my leg when he went through the spiel of “I can’t find the keys” but as we all stood shivering in the snow I began to realise this was snow joke.
It’s bad enough when your keys go walkabout in the comfort of your own home but stranded in a snowy car park it’s a whole different ball game.
And to add to the misery the car had been loaned to us for a four day test drive and as such we hadn’t got a spare set of keys.
As he racked his brains thinking where they could’ve gone it dawned on him that they may have fallen out of his pocket whilst he was playing with Bertie.
Given the fact we’d trekked for miles mainly across a massive field complete with five angry looking cows and eight inch of snow the prospects of finding them looked bleak.
But with few options he was forced to retrace his steps desperately looking for them and contemplating the prospect of having to stump up a large sum of money.
After 15 minutes I decided waiting near the car was not an option and instead took Bertie back into town and stumbled across a pub that let dogs in not before nipping to the police station and tourist office in search of the keys to no avail.
As we sat there debating what we could do and I resisted the temptation to ask that old favourite “where did you have them last” line and a friend came to our rescue and picked us up.
We were forced to leave the car in Bakewell (with all the documents including terms and conditions for the car and an Ipad on full view) and set off back.
As frustrating as the situation was I couldn’t help but feel a little smug that I wasn’t to blame as it is something I would do.
And the trip was not a complete wash out as he would never be able to give me stick for losing anything again and we managed to stock up on Bakewell tarts. The only drawback is after contacting the lease company it turns out it may turn into the world’s most expensive Bakewell tart as the mistake could ended up costing more than his pride and in fact hundreds of pounds.