Lost and found

This is what happens when we have people round for dinner. Katie will spend the previous week or so going through her collection of recipes. We will plan a delightful evening to the nth degree of detail.

And then, on the morning of the day in question, we'll take a look at the house and realise we're living the dream. If the dream in question is a rather surreal one in which you're surrounded by unparalleled mess, that is. The sort where John Peel provides a voice-over.

So, in no particular order, here are the things we found behind the sofa whilst tidying:

• A box marked "important" dating back to 1996 (when we moved in), that clearly wasn't;
• Rolls of Christmas wrapping paper that we (a) find every November and, (b) promptly forget about when we buy new wrapping paper several weeks later;
• The lost village of Brigadoon;
• A superannuated Japanese soldier who was patently unaware World War 2 had ended;
• "Moustache Mellotron," the lost Village People triple concept album from their forgotten progressive period;
• Chargers. For every mobile phone we've ever owned. And several we don't remember ever having;
• A stone tablet with Commandments numbered 11-15. Thousands of years of strife could have been averted if the world had known about: "Thou shalt not act like a pillock";
  
• An old copy of NME magazine. Apparently mullets are in;
  
• Dust bunnies that we could hire out to the makers of spaghetti westerns if ever they were running short of tumbleweed;
• Enough spare change in empty whisky bottles to re-float Lehman Brothers; and
  
• Several back-copies of Ideal Home magazine in pristine condition.

We need a cleaner.