I don’t want to sound like I’m bragging when I say my life is charmed, but it is. If I need something, it’s usually in the house and ready for me to grab. Last vitamin in the pack? No worries, there are three additional packs in the cupboard. Birds need fed and the feed tub empty? Not a problem. There is spare food in the cellar. Out of milk? Don’t fret – Tesco is delivering tomorrow. This isn’t down to luck or magic but rather Past Me doing a damn good job of looking after Future Me.
I’m very spoiled by this level of care, so you can imagine my surprise when Present Me was down to my last hypertension tablet and discovered there were no extra packs in the house. I’d be completely out of medication by the next day, so I reluctantly called the NHS non-emergency number to see if they could help. I was embarrassed to be using this resource in the middle of a pandemic, but the lady on the other end of the phone was patient and kind, and she arranged for me to pick up the medicine I needed an hour after I phoned.
I’m sorry report that this wasn’t the first time Past Me has let Future Me down. Over the last few months, I’ve noticed I’ve forgotten things – the most frustrating being words, especially when I’m asked for an explanation of what I’m doing. In these moments, I don’t even want to try to answer, so I’ve taken to shaking my head or giving a daft reply because there isn’t anything else I can do. The saddest bit is I don’t think there is any hope for improvement. This ageing business is not for the fainthearted.
Fig and Pen 