The Thing About Getting Older

The thing about getting older isn’t just the occasional ache in the wing joints, it’s the rapidly fading memory. Honestly. Mine is so shot to pieces it’s embarrassing. Sometimes it feels like there’s nothing in there at all.

Yesterday, I bumped into this guy:

“Bri!” He said, straight in my face looking quite excited. “Bri Pigeon! Great to see you again!”

I had no clue who he was. Not a single one.

“Oh, hi.” I said, trying not to look too vague, “How are you?”

“Great. Great. Cheers. Bloody hell, that night, dude. Dude! Best night in years. Still laughing about it now!”

“Yeah. It was great, wasn’t it.” I had no idea what he was talking about.

“When you said that thing. What was it?” By this time he was laughing so hard his foot was slamming on the pavement. “You know? That thing? Hilarious!”

Time for a swift exit: “Listen, really sorry, man, but I can’t stop. I’m just on my way somewhere. Great to see you again though. Let’s not leave it so long next time.”

Then came the sting: “But it was only last week…”

Damn. Fucking typical. He shuffled off looking somewhat deflated despite my attempt to salvage the situation: “But last week feels like ages ago!”

Terrible.

That was the moment I decided something has to be done before it gets any worse and I’ll have to start referring to my blog as ‘the online diary of an aging pigeon who can’t remember very much any more’. Not good.

I figured food might be a good place to start. Turns out nuts can help by boosting my Vitamin E levels. Easy. So tomorrow I shall mainly be sitting under the nut stall on Berwick Sreet Market if anyone fancies joining me?

I’m also going to investigate some other more practical methods. Perhaps a few simple mental agility exercises? Mart suggested counting pavement cracks but that’s more likely to send me mental than anything else.

Any other pigeons out there suffering the same lack of recollection, watch this space (if you can remember that is).

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