I've lost my wallet. This realisation starts with me doing that intimate petting routine. Breast, breast, hip, hip, bum, bum. No, it's not in any of the pockets.

I try my jacket. But I wasn't wearing my jacket last night. It was dry. I was only wearing these trousers and this shirt. I look on the bedside table. I rummage through the bookshelves. I shake out all my shoes. Nothing

"Where did you have it last?" J asks.

"At the pictures." [1]

"Well, go and see if they've found it."

I look around a bit more before I do. I go out to the car, look down the side of the seats. Nothing. I don't have a choice. I go to Cineworld.

It's early afternoon. Not too busy. In between Inside Out screenings presumably. I go to the young guy at the counter. "I've lost my wallet," I tell him. "Has one been handed in?"

"What sort of wallet was it?" he asks. I describe it in great detail. "It's a knock-off Hugo Boss wallet. Black with 13-Oss imprinted into it. I can tell you what's in it too. Pictures of my daughters. No money, obviously. Never is." I laugh at my own joke. "Well, apart from an old Scottish £1 note and 500 Icelandic Kronur."

"Maybe you could just tell me your name," he says. I think an Icelandic 500 Kronur note is pretty unlikely to feature in too many people's wallets in central Scotland, but fair enough.

I tell him. He phones his manager. "She's going to bring it out," he says when he puts the phone down. "You've got it? Oh, fantastic. Thank you."

The manager appears. She looks so young. Around 18 maybe, or 19 at a push, maybe a very, very youthful-looking 20 or 21. Let's settle on young. Is this really the manager? I didn't get to be assistant manager in a bookshop until I was, what? Late twenties at least. And it was a small bookshop. [2]

She's clearly more capable than I am. I bet she doesn't lose her knock-off Hugo Boss purse. If she even has one.

It's only later that I imagine her looking through my wallet when it was handed in and conjuring up a picture of the man who lost it. A globe-trotting journalist clearly. [3] Someone who has exotic bank notes to hand at all times. Oh, and someone with a seriously underwhelming bank balance.

'Have you seen these statements?' I imagine her asking her assistant manager. 'And look at this wallet. Who's going to think that's a real Hugo Boss wallet. The lining is all split too. He needs a new wallet. He could buy it next time he's in Iceland. How much is 500 Kronur worth anyway? Oh. That little. Well, maybe he could buy another 13-Oss knock-off.'

[1] We'd been to see Amy. Turns out it's as sad and powerful second time around.

[2] As already established in Age Concerns passim.

[3] There's a press card.