1 June - Decline & Memory

18 months ago I had my handbag stolen and in it was an address book that crucially contained a much cherished page/s annotated with friends’ birthdays. Since then I’ve tried to remember when they are (ok, I now probably know only half or perhaps a third of the people in the list, but still) and somehow stubbornly refused to write them down again. To test my memory I guess. Some I know totally by heart without fail – a bit like some landline numbers of friends met twenty years ago still roll off the fingers - and I can place virtually all of them in the right month as have always associated them to the relevant star sign. But as for picking the right day, this is no longer possible. It goes from ‘Must remember S’s b’day next month/week’ to ‘When is S’s birthday exactly?’ and makig a vague note on diary. Not always having a mutual friend to ask for clarification or being ashamed to do so (we’re talking about people who are precious to me) and before you know it… it was two days ago or last week and you feel bad. Yes I’ve read it, memory decline. It happens. The sign of aging is possibly not so much not remembering the date but the stubborness in not now making a note, starting the list again so to speak, so as to have it for next year and instead pig headedly think 'No, I must rember, I will remember'.

And let’s not get started on the jumble of words that your brain throws up when you speak several languages and you’re searching to say ‘traffic lights’ in French and well, it’s just not there any more, but you can think it in German. Which is not what you need when you’re trying to communicate with your minicab driver for the night who is dumb and partially deaf (true story but I’ll tell it another time. I wanted to stop the car and ‘chat’ and ask him what made him pick such an incredibly unsuitable job. One that he had to perform on a Saturday night when presumably most of his fares would not be French speaking, not pissed, polite women)… er… as for getting off subject that’s not age, that’s me always.