I sort of understand the woman who blew her husband's brains out one morning after 25 years of marriage because she didn't like the way he ate his cereal. I get that way with headphones. I write this, with a pair of headphones beside me, standard white Iphone headphones except they are now prettily striped in orange nail polish. I write this, quelling the urge to storm downstairs and brandish them, yelling: "See here Exhibit A. MY headphones.' How childish, how puerile, how incredibly pathetic and I speak as someone who was out on the lawn at 6 am, facing the sun practising mindfulness meditation. But where was that when the white hot rage coruscated through my bloodstream as I realised my headphones had been ripped from my ipod and miraculously lost (again). And so, yes, three happy, healthy children, a nice house, a needy cat, a marriage that has contentedly spanned 15 years but faltered dangerously on its axis over a pair of bloody headphones. I spend my life sorting out the kids' squabbles - over portion sizing usually - but none so infantile as this. Anyway I think I've found a solution. And it's not nice and it's not clever but I suspect it will be surprisingly effective. (Amazon have a hot pink pair for a tenner if you suffer from the same problem).