So how come I can remember what my homework was when I was eleven and I can't remember which floor of the multi-story car park I left my car an hour earlier? Decreased blood flow to the brain, apparently, so I’m off to see if I can remember how to stand on my head to precipitate a rush of blood to my brains.
I watched the sunrise yesterday, as I often do. My writing day starts at dawn. It’s the time of day my brain seems to creatively engage. I threw back the curtains to greet the dawn on the day that marked yet another year since my arrival on the planet.
I am relieved I have reached the age when I no longer feel I have to make a fashion statement ... my wardrobe consists of what I can get into on any given day ... but how I look will always be a reflection of who I am.
I had a couple of glasses of wine last night and I only remembered about Lent this morning after having eaten four biscuits with my coffee. Biscuits and wine. I was supposed to be giving up both these indulgences until 13th April. Too late now. I must try to remember next year. I might have remembered, had I eaten pancakes yesterday, but I didn't because I am on a diet.
I never needed to do make lists. I used to juggle my to-do list in my head which was bursting with the ultra-productive grey matter. Now the grey matter seems to have turned into white mush, so I need to make lists but, I also need to remember to look at them.
Opening your fridge door to find your confused but well fed cat suffering from a mild case of hyperthermia or when you start leaving your bunch of keys in your the door when you go shopping.
As I grow older I often wonder whether, knowing what I know now, I would like to start my life all over again? Probably not, but one thing I would like back is my body ... Lean, svelte and supple ... Actually I would settle for my knees up to the age of 50, mine seems to have undergone... Continue Reading →