Moving

Oh good grief. I never want to move again. Unfortunately this is inevitable as my parents, and Margaret who lives next door, will probably want their garage back at some point. I have so much stuff. I have thrown away so much stuff. And taken an awful lot to charity shops. How does it all accumulate? I am far too good at clinging on to things, thinking they're vitally important. I put it down to Father Dougal-like inability to remember things without a physical clue:



Father Ted: Ah, Sister Assumpta!

Sister Assumpta: Hello Father!

Father Ted: Dougal, Dougal, do you remember Sister Assumpta?

Father Dougal: Er, no.

Father Ted: She was here last year! And then we stayed with her in the convent, back in Kildare. Do you remember it? Ah, you do! And then you were hit by the car when you went down to the shops for the paper. You must remember all that? And then you won a hundred pounds with your lottery card? Ah, you must remember it, Dougal! [Dougal shakes his head]

Sister Assumpta: And weren't you accidentally arrested for shoplifting? I remember we had to go down to the police station to get you!... And the police station went on fire? And you had to be rescued by helicopter?

Father Ted: Do you remember? You can't remember any of that? The helicopter! When you fell out of the helicopter! Over the zoo! Do you remember the tigers? [Dougal shakes his head some more] You don't remember? You were wearing your blue jumper.

Father Dougal: Ah, Sister Assumpta!



Despite my extraordinary memory for actors, lines and plots, I fail to remember actual information about my own life so I have had numerous, marginally less surreal conversations with my Mum or my sister when they try to remind me of stuff that has happened in the past and I eventually link it to an insignificant detail. I think, like Dougal, I must spend an awful lot of time just staring into space.