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Illustration by Yukiko Leitch

Previously, I've been amused on discovering the theft of my clothes. In Bolivia, a worn and holey pair of socks were swiped from a washing line, relieving me of the pain of discarding my well-travelled loved ones. The cheap, synthetic replacement pair, soon in a similar condition, were taken from a hotel window in Guatemala, from which they had been hung out due to their unpleasant smell. I learned long ago not to take expensive clothes travelling when even the unfashionable, threadbare ones are a temptation to thieves.

But Japan would be different wouldn't it? The low crime rate and high standard of living here (and, let's be honest, the hope of pulling some exotic guy!), convinced me to splash out on some decent underwear, the kind I wouldn't be embarrassed to be found wearing in the event of a messy car accident.

This time there was no amusement, just utter amazement: my lovely new panties had been stolen from a laundrette in Roppongi. I cannot describe the disgust I felt-the invasion into my privacy by perverts helping themselves to my half-washed underpants. And of course the two remaining pairs were the cheap ones, left even by the Bolivian thief, from which some threads had come loose, securing them to my bed sheet.

Later, revealing my horror and disbelief at work, the girls consoled me that it happens all the time here and they had themselves regularly been victims of the same crime. Feeling less sensitive and victimized, I trudged around Tokyo with the difficult task of seeking other pairs to cover my ample Western bottom (thank goodness my bras didn't disappear!). It appears that Japanese women are the petite size I was when I was fourteen years old. My rage resurfaced when it became clear that I would have to work for over an hour to earn enough to replace each pair.

My faith in how wonderful the majority of Japanese people are was restored when the family that I'm currently staying with presented me with new pairs of knickers and socks; such a touching, unexpected and useful gift from people that I had only just met.

Although I am still angry when I see the now matchless top halves to my sexy lingerie, now that my underwear stocks are replenished and the daily ritual of washing a pair in time to dry for the next day has stopped, I am beginning to see the funny side of this bizarre incident. My friends at home are quite amused. But it continues to annoy me to have to wait in a cold, uncomfortable and boring laundrette with no seats or entertainment, because of a bunch of twisted knicker nickers.

Many thanks to TC reader Cora Caroli for this Rant and Rave.