On the day following the puff pastry find I checked the lift on my way out. No pastry. Following my “get fit for the Amazon” routine I walked down to street level. There balanced on the door-handle of flat 4 was a packet of reduced price puff pastry. On the carpet just inside the street door was another and on the step outside was a third.

Where are the other seven I wondered. I knew there were seven because I had noticed the price on the handle balanced packet was 45p and the receipt in the lift had been for £4.50.

I didn’t have long to wait before finding another outside the car-park level door when I returned. I thought at first that I was looking at the calling card of a particularly anaemic dog but realised that a packet had burst open. Another packet lay on the stair between floors.

Can this be territorial marking? Slightly less disgusting than peeing around the boundary or scraping musk glands along the carpet but definitely more animal than human.

Intriguingly flat 4 still boasts a packet on its handle tonight. Is the occupant away or is the flat empty or could this be the lift lunatic’s lair? I am scared to knock in case I am whisked inside, slaughtered, cut to pieces, stuffed into a Tesco bag and dumped. Where – where else but in the lift.