A Trip down Memory Lane..

When I rummage in the capacious carpet bag that is my memory, I come up with some pretty weird stuff. Years ago, I was doing my English Literature A Level at evening classes. (This was in 1986, not long after my Mum had died.) But what sticks in my mind about that time is filling in the forms to take the exams, when my Teacher, whose name was Jill, phoned me to say she thought I had made a mistake when filling in my date of birth. I have always looked younger than I am (a blessing, I suppose) but she was really shocked when I said there had been no mistake. This was the first time for a long time that I hadn't lied about my age - and it taught me that this particular truth didn't pay. I couldn't help noticing a subtle change in her attitude after that, which amounted to ageism really. Ever since then, I have either avoided questions of actual age (Zsa Zsa Gabor said that only a stupid woman would tell the truth about her age, or something like that.) or I have told an outright lie. On the odd occasions when I have been tempted to tell the truth, it has been really embarrassing for me. The "shock/horror" reactions are so hard to deal with that I just don't do it any more. So there are few people who know how old I am (outside my family, that is) and I had intended to keep it that way. Except that I have a Birthday coming up and I'm beginning to think it's about time to come clean. Heaven knows what's the best thing to do, (and does it really matter?) but I've got about a week to make the decision...

More memories popped out when I heard the song "Africa" on Radio 2 the other morning. Eighties music makes me feel terribly sad. It reminds me of a time when the children were small, just before my Brain Tumour was discovered, and we were staying with a friend while the builders were doing our house. It was a hard time - winter of course - my marriage had come to an end and feelings of misery and homelessness pervaded our lives. I was continually ill, without knowing why. I caught cold after cold, and then a chest infection nearly turned into pneumonia. I had persistent headaches and my unhappiness meant that my two little ones were feeling lost too. It wasn't for another few months that the tumour was discovered, by which time we were living in our house. But that song brought it all back so powerfully. Music really does play a huge part in our lives - even that silly popular song (played by Terry Wogan as it was back then), was able to re-create a whole load of feelings that I had thought were dead and buried.

After a week without my telephone, I finally got it back this morning. A lovely chap from BT turned up very cheerfully at 8.30am, and set to work sorting it out. I had been borrowing my neighbour's phone, downstairs, and had tried phoning my own number several times, only to be put through to the Shahid Dinan Hair and Scalp Clinic! This happened to me, and to any of my friends and family who dialled my number. The patient people at this Clinic were very nice. They didn't complain, and in the end were explaining to callers what had happened to my phone!

I heard something really funny on T. Wogan's show yesterday. One of his listeners phoned in to tell us about a white van he had seen with the following message on its side:

Rajit Singh - Plumber. You've tried the Cowboys, now try the Indians.

I thought this was wonderful, and phoned a friend to pass it on, only to hear that it's an old joke, first seen on a Builder's van some time ago. Ah well, there's no such thing as a new joke I guess.

You seasoned Bloggers out there won't be surprised to learn that I'm still getting people logging on to my Blog in the hopes of finding "crutchless knickers" of some sort. Of course they go away disappointed - but it does amaze me (naive or what?) that there are so many people out there looking for that very item. I'm not really complaining - I should have probably anticipated the reaction - and it does help to keep the numbers up on a dull day!