Deja Stu(pid)

Have you ever had a sudden fleeting thought that, when you think about it, turns out to be really dumb.

I don’t know the  language term for this, the closest I can come is ‘déjà vu’ – it’s not really right but then I’m not a fucking English major (or even lance corporal) so get over it.

I am increasingly getting these dopey thoughts and suspect it may be the (not so) early onset of dementia or something – I can’t really remember.

Anyway this has happened three times in the last couple of weeks.

I was in the gym pretending to work really hard last week on a machine that looks that thing in ‘The Princess Bride’ – the one that shortens your life by several years.

I happened to glance accidentally (obviously) at this very fit Doris in her twenties who was about to pick up a decent size bar bell – for a fraction of a second I thought about offering to help. This was mental on several levels, not least the weights were about three times what I could ever hope to lift. Fortunately this idea passed in about one tenth of a second and before I made a complete arse of myself.

Last week and again at the health club I had been in the steam room for about 10 minutes – some time longer than I had actually spent in the gym. I went to leave and for a second the door wouldn’t open – I had a mental (ha ha) image of that scene in ‘Thunderball’ where James Bond locks some poor bastard in a sauna cabinet.

Again the thought was fleeting and in my panic I managed to force the bastard door open. Obviously all that strength training is paying off.

Finally on Wednesday we were out in the morning and arrived home just after John Spencer had started to read out the Lions names for New Zealand, so I’d missed a few of the early ones. As I sank onto the sofa to watch, the phone rang – for a fraction of a second I thought it might be Harro calling to tell me I’d been selected – seriously although it was only for  a millisecond and it was a monumentally stupid thought.

I mean Harro can’t use a phone, well not without someone to help him.

I’m genuinely not making any of these up – I mean who the fuck could?

I’d check out that Alzheimer leaflet if only I could remember where the hell I put it. Or why I actually wanted to look at it in the first place.

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