About three weeks ago my passport was stolen. I would not have realised it had gone, except that the overseas development aid organisation that I’m registered with as a volunteer e-mailed to say an overseas client was interested in my working with their group. I looked for the passport. Hunted everywhere. It didn’t help that I had moved, in February, from a large home where I’d lived for thirty years to a much smaller one, where things still lay around in boxes waiting to be unpacked.  I had gone overseas in July and August on another volunteer assignment, but returning…