A Prayer to St Anthony

I've lost my sunglasses. They're not just any old sunglasses. They are Lafont Jamaique with prescription lenses. They are also magic.

They transform me from this

to this ( that's right, the spy Nikita - and anyone that can't tell the difference gets a slap) in an instant.

I've looked in all the obvious places: the freezer, in the fridge beside the milk, on the telephone cradle, on my head. I've even cleaned out my car and hoovered behind the sofa but they haven't turned up.

I called my opticians, in Glasgow, of course. They can't get hold of another pair as they are out of production. I've trawled the net and found a pair in America but they are double what I paid for them, and that was already a week's wages, 5 years ago. I've even emailed the designer in the hope they might just have a pair lying at the back of a dusty shelf somewhere. I can't think what else I can do. In desperation I offer up this prayer to St. Anthony, the patron saint of lost things.

Saint Anthony, perfect imitator of Jesus, who received from God the special power of restoring lost things, grant that I may find my fabulous sunglasses which have been lost. At least restore to me peace and tranquility of mind, the loss of which has afflicted me even more than my material loss. To this favor I ask another of you: that I may always remain in possession of the telephone number of Niche Optical Tailors of Candleriggs, Glasgow, oh, and that I might find a website of equally stylish vintage frames. Let me rather lose all things than lose my reserve pair of Guess sunspecs, my second favourites. Let me never suffer the loss of my greatest treasure, my pale blue horn-rimmed everyday glasses. Amen.