The general consensus amongst people in the know (and my sister), is that to fix a mobile phone that's been dropped in the toilet, you need to cover it in rice for a day. Unfortunately, in Lisa's case, you'd probably need to bury it in a paddy field under a vat of risotto and a statue of Uncle Ben. Twenty-four hours in a bag of brown rice has done nothing other than ruin my plans for paella. I'm wondering if we should have used Coco Pops.

But where staple grains have failed, I'm pleased to say that yours truly has succeeded. I took the phone apart this evening, dried all the bits with tissues, removed rice from the charger socket, and hey presto, it works! The screen couldn't be any steamier if Lisa had tried sexting, but other than that, it seems fine.

Unfortunately, despite saving my wife from another disaster, she's clearly learnt nothing from her mistakes. While her phone was doing the boil-in-the bag rice thing, Toby was busy dumping Lisa's keys in her wellies. Which might have been fine if we'd had snow today. Unfortunately, when Lisa left for Amelie's school this morning, we had nothing worse than mild flooding, and the keys were nowhere to be found.

I was in the ophthalmology department at Horsham Hospital at the time, so Lisa had no choice but to leave the front door unlocked while she did the school run. Which was a major risk, as someone could have stolen my rhino horn. Fortunately, however, it's a well known fact that we've got nothing worth nicking. Especially as Lisa's phone wasn't working. Although if Churchill find out, we'll never get that £91 insurance deal again.

Anyhoo, Lisa eventually found the keys in her footwear, and having checked the flat for hidden axe murderers, I'm confident that no harm has been done. Mainly because Lisa didn't wear her wellies. If she had, she'd have been doing the school run on crutches after a trip to A&E.