Years ago, a world-renowned musician took a yellow cab back to his New York hotel, carefully placing his 18th century cello in the boot. When he arrived he grabbed a receipt from the driver and happily hopped out. It was soon later that he realised that he had accidentally left the multi million-dollar Stradivarius behind. Fortunately he had the receipt and with the help of hotel staff and the police, the driver was contacted and the instrument was returned to him several hours later.

Imagine in a world of only pencils you invent the pen. You are so excited – you are going to change people’s lives! Pens are easier to write with, easier to read, and don’t need sharpening. You dream of success and millions of pounds.

Mixed in with your excitement is a dose of paranoia. Of course, anyone will steal your fantastic idea. So you protect yourself by applying for a patent and registering the design.

The girl was clearly nervous as her job interview got underway. I asked her why Australia had such a high inflation rate and I was incredulous at her answer: “I believe it is mostly “imported inflation”. I pulled a face. “Imported inflation? How could that be possible when our biggest trading partner, Japan, has a fraction of our inflation rate?” She didn’t say much and I moved on. “What would you say about Australia’s high interest rate policy?” “It’s completely unfair,” she claimed indignantly, “I’m from a working class area and I’ve seen people lose their house when they can’t afford the mortgage”. I thought about it and quickly decided it made no sense. “That’s your answer? Really? Sorry, but that is terrible. What about our trade deficit and weak currency? You have an economics degree but you’re not showing any understanding of the situation at all.” It was around about then, that a tear rolled down her cheek and she stifled back a few sobs. Fortunately there was another interviewer there who quickly switched to a softer line of questions about family and hobbies, and the girl cheered up a little.

The French policeman, or gendarme, didn’t look happy as he got off his motorbike. He had waved over my car after seeing me talking on my phone and driving around a roundabout twice. However his expression changed to one of utter disbelief when I greeted him with “Thank god you are here!”