happypig
Staring at the rude boys
I once got up, a bit hungover, and set off for work in Worthing. Traffic was quite light and it dawned on me somewhere along Old Shoreham Road that it was Sunday.
A colleague said to me a while ago that when your brain is full, if you cram something in one ear, a correspondingly sized bit of data falls out of the other. That's how I see it.
Slightly OT but this happened to one of our group on a golf trip. We ended up in a certain bar (probably well known to those who have been to Vilamoura) and he ended up taking a girl back to the hotel. When a group of us walked back we found his roommate in the hotel gardens sat on a bench, fully dressed but with his pyjamas on under his clothes (the other the guy wanted the room - obviously - and asked him to make himself scarce even though he’d already gone to bed). He was offered a sofa in someone else’s room for the night. The following morning the guy came down to the breakfast room and looked deeply disturbed……told us the girl had stolen his passport and money and disappeared in the night. He said he’d turned the room upside down into a right mess but couldn‘t find his stuff, so would have to miss golf that day and go and get a passport sorted etc. It was at that point man in PJs reached into his pocket, took out a passport and wad of cash and said ’here you go, you gave it to me to look after last night when you chucked me out of the room when you brought that tart back’.I had a COMPLETE panic meltdown on holiday last year. The doris had gone down to the pool to get the sun loungers, whilst I pottered about in the room having a shower and getting ready. We were flying home the next day, so I got the carrycase out, just to check the passports were in the usual little zip-up pocket I keep them in. I looked inside - no passports. EHH ? Panic stations. I checked all the drawers, my pockets, the bedside cabinets, dressing table, everywhere, but no sign of them.
So I got dressed and scurried downstairs in a cold sweat, trying to think what I'd have to do. Apply for emergency ones ? Visit the consulate ? It all looked like being a gigantic ballache that would ruin the end of the holiday. So I find her by the pool, she's there gassing away with some old crusty. I'm hopping about trying to tell her about the disaster that had befallen us. Eventually there's a tiny break in the conversation, so I butt in.
"I can't find the passports. The f*cking passports are gone"
"They're in the safe aren't they ?"
"......."
Yup. 10 days earlier, I had dutifully locked them in the hotel room safe. I had TOTALLY forgot about this, and in my panic rushing round the room, it literally had not even occurred to me to check the safe. In fact, my brain had erased all memory of us even having one. The feeling of relief was so intense it was almost worth the panic attack. Almost.
My brain is an absolute arsehole at times.
It was at that point I realised what I hadn't done. I was so close to getting in to the pool!Had you had the recommended shower before getting to the poolside?
I bet there has been some great stories of us 50+ on the Euro trips. It's the first time where I've had to accept that my son was slightly more "on it" than me. Disturbing.
When @Lenny Rider son Sam had to help me find my glasses on the flight to Rome I knew that I was in trouble.
I comfortably complete my 10,000 steps a day by having to return to where I started so I remember why I went to the other room. Always a positive somewhere .It’s the increasing regularity of going in to a room and forgetting why I wanted to go there, which is getting me
Your colleague is very wise.I have the same with words. And no matter how hard I try to think of them in the moment they won't make themselves known to me.
A colleague said to me a while ago that when your brain is full, if you cram something in one ear, a correspondingly sized bit of data falls out of the other. That's how I see it.
59 in September. Where has that time gone.
How do we know this though?? He may actually have worn jeans correctly - but gone to the wrong place to work!You've done fantastically well ! You remembered who you work for, and where you're based. Congrats !
But this may simply be because your mind is working so much overtime on writing detailed and complex posts on here that it has no capacity left for 'normal' stuff!I’m beyond repair.
- Keep setting the fire alarms off because I forget I’ve put something under the grill
- Went to work in my gardening clumpy rubber crocs a few weeks back (they were so comfortable)
- Repeatedly putting things down and can’t find them for ages - cups of coffee, ear buds, glasses (spend ridiculous amounts of time looking for my damn glasses when half the time they are on my head)
- Turning up for work on days I’m supposed to be off
- Forgetting what day of the week it is
- Getting on the wrong train
- Forgetting appointments I’ve made
I’m just interested to know what sort of job you do that won’t allow you to wear jeans?I seem to be suffering a strong bout of this at the moment. Today I congratulated myself for being up and about in good time and arrived at work early. Found a decent parking place, strode confidently from the car and then realised I had my jeans on.
Had to drive home, change and then do the process all over again.
Anyone else suffering this, I suppose it'll only get worse from here on in?
Ah that’s the neurodivergent thing at war with brain fog spreading into the corners of my mind like 1950s pea-souper - and getting worse so brace yourself for long, complex gobbledygook - there is no normal stuff anymore (at least not in Norfolk)But this may simply be because your mind is working so much overtime on writing detailed and complex posts on here that it has no capacity left for 'normal' stuff!
Urgh, yes. I tried to get on the 14:20 high-speed train from Milano Centrale to Roma Termini with a ticket for the 14:30 high-speed train from Milano Centrale to Roma Termini. I mean, I partly blame the Italian rail network for having too many fast and convenient services but that's not the sort of detail that I usually get wrong.I bet there has been some great stories of us 50+ on the Euro trips. It's the first time where I've had to accept that my son was slightly more "on it" than me. Disturbing.
Arthur Conan Doyle - A Study in Scarlet:I honestly think the brain is a bit like a hard drive and at some point it has to delete stuff to fit other things in it.
that’s nothing to worry about, wait until like me you walk into a room and then cant remember how to get back outIt’s the increasing regularity of going in to a room and forgetting why I wanted to go there, which is getting me
One of our group, you say?Slightly OT but this happened to one of our group on a golf trip. We ended up in a certain bar (probably well known to those who have been to Vilamoura) and he ended up taking a girl back to the hotel. When a group of us walked back we found his roommate in the hotel gardens sat on a bench, fully dressed but with his pyjamas on under his clothes (the other the guy wanted the room - obviously - and asked him to make himself scarce even though he’d already gone to bed). He was offered a sofa in someone else’s room for the night. The following morning the guy came down to the breakfast room and looked deeply disturbed……told us the girl had stolen his passport and money and disappeared in the night. He said he’d turned the room upside down into a right mess but couldn‘t find his stuff, so would have to miss golf that day and go and get a passport sorted etc. It was at that point man in PJs reached into his pocket, took out a passport and wad of cash and said ’here you go, you gave it to me to look after last night when you chucked me out of the room when you brought that tart back’.
I teach at a primary school.I’m just interested to know what sort of job you do that won’t allow you to wear jeans?