My late wife Mirjam bought a very clever, very strong rocking chair, an antique which folded up. But it had a vital bolt missing. Last Christmas I found a bolt, and gave the chair to my mother-in-law. In theory I did. Half way on the long journey to the plateau, where my mother-in-law lives, I forgot the chair at my sister-in-law's place. "It's a wonderful chair!" my sister-in-law said this week. "I can sit on it all day at the front door, and rock." OBSERVATION: The chances of the rocking chair reaching the plateau seem to become more and more remote. Or will my mother-in-law lay claim to it? "Watch this space."