Although the temptation to start “swotting for my finals” is quite great, I do not find myself reaching for my Bible any more often than usual. What I do find is that I am becoming more and more puzzled by those little tricks that daily existence throws at me.
Have I really had this conversation before, or is deja vu a simple matter of the mouth, ears and brain being out of alignment?
Does an old person’s day really only contain eight hours, as it seems, or do I spend sixteen hours a day in a benign state of unconsciousness?
If I anticipate something, a party, for example, why does it seem to arrive just in time to be finished before I am even aware that I am there?
Despite all my efforts to look after my plants, why do they bloom so that the flowers last only long enough for me to notice them?
Is it really so difficult to remember where I was going if someone stops me in the street to chat? Even if I stand facing the direction in which I was travelling, why can I not remember why I was travelling in that direction?
If I stop on a flight of stairs, why do I get confused about whether I was going up or coming down?
Why does something that I have spent days searching for suddenly turn up exactly where it is supposed to be?
If the door bell chimes, why do I have to tell myself “That’s the door bell” and why do I have to make a conscious effort to go to the door? When I go to the door, why am I more surprised if there is someone there than if there isn’t?
When I am at my door with my dogs on their leads, why is it difficult to remember if I was just going out or had just come back in?
Where did the pictures in my cameras come from?
Why have I just remembered what I should have said to Paco half an hour ago? He would have found it funny!
I’d ask a priest if I could remember why I was in front of him.
If I did ask, he would probably say “Yes, that’ll be God. He’s ensuring that when you die, you’ll be too dead to ask Him why.”