Red Handbag Hoist

Never hang your handbag on the back of your chair when eating out. A rule I abide by at all times. Always keep handbag safely nestling between feet, or on lap.

Recently I bought a lovely red handbag from designer Monica Boxley. Beautiful thing, an interpretation of a handbag Monica copied from a 1940s photo of her mother. Too good to go on the floor, too big to sit comfortably on my lap. We met in a nice eatery, Café Rouge in Strand on The Green, up market Chiswick. So I hung the bag on the back of my chair.

Later, CiCi who was sitting opposite me with a view of the whole café quietly asked me if I had a bag on the back of my chair? Yes, I said as I turned round and felt suddenly naked. No.

CiCi got up and went out, she asked Bob to accompany her and both ran to her car. I phoned the police and reported the theft. And then did a mental list of what I had in the bag: my one and only car key, passport (moving home the next day and that day had been hurrying around various banks to move money, all had wanted proof of identity), all my bank, credit, debit and membership cards, Freedom Pass, cheque book, diary, my wallet with some of the above in and about £50 in cash, new sim card set up to change server, keys to Rosemarie's flat, the key to our new home in Wales... Breath out, let it all go. At least I am insured.

The police told me they would come immediately.

CiCi drove back to café. Sitting beside her Bob held my bag aloft. The most amazing sensation of relief.

They had caught up with the woman who had lifted my bag. She had met a man outside the café and both walked off together. Bob and CiCi had swiftly caught up with them. She stopped the car, leapt out and approached them, leaving the car doors wide open. Bob challenged the woman, who had the bag in one hand and the wallet in her other hand. "You took that bag". She, and the man, said they had found it. They gave the bag back and threw the wallet on the ground. Bob challenged them again. They started protesting and shouting, CiCi withdrew: "Thank you, thank you, that's fine, that's fine." And the woman gave her a kiss on the cheek and said in a very heavy Irish accent "God bless you, God bless you" over and over again. She appeared drunk. Later the detective told me that in this sort of petty crime the perpatrators are always very desperate, drug addicts or the like.

As we celebrated the magical return of my bag, me checking the contents, a rather shabby blue car with a blue light flashing on its roof sped up the road and did a sliding turn into a car parking space. Two very fit young men casually dressed got out showing us their identity cards. Quickly they took in the situation and asked CiCi to come with them whilst they did a search of the area. Bob and Rowan, our young 13 year old friend, looked on with envy as she was driven off in this very souped up police car.

The police phoned me back. I gave them all the details I knew. The plain police car returned and I handed my phone over to CiCi.

Missing from my bag, very little. they had taken all the cash, coins included, and the Freedom Pass, today canceled. Blessings and luck - and CiCi's amazing instinct and ability to act diverted what would have been a most inconvenient result. Today I drive down the M4 to our new property in Wales. Without the contents of my bag containing all sorts of essential items this would have been possible, at least, not today..

What amazing friends I have. And how little I yet understand that first posture in T'ai-Chi: attention. And how what was going to be a simple farewell supper to West London with friends turned into a theatrically dramatic evening.

And Rowan did get a ride in the police car. The Sergeant driver took him round the block as the detective took statements from waiters and others. His evening, as a car mad young teenager, was just made.

My hero: the amazing and beautiful (and very tall) CiCi!