Whatever that means

Dwindling faculties


Is it a sign of a good holiday or weakening mental capacity to have forgotten in a little less than three weeks how to get to work? Yesterday, I thought it was only a question of absentmindedly walking onto a train bound for Glasgow but today, sitting reading an old Michael Bywater article from the New Statesman, I realised, as I heard the dull rumble of a bus going up the hill past the house, that I had also forgotten which bus I was supposed to get to the station and yesterday I’d done the same. I don’t get up at 6am to enjoy two cups of coffee while idly checking for overnight comments, reading the Guardian or downloading the latest version of iTunes before getting the 7.12am bus. No, I get up at 6am to catch the bus at 6.40am, which creates the time between arriving in Edinburgh and starting work to hunt down the day’s photograph. That time slot has now trundled up the hill and I’m writing this in case it’s the most important thing to happen today and by evening I’ve forgotten.

Because of my shortness of time and my expectation of rain at lunchtime, I thought I’d best repeat yesterday’s first post of the sign on the GP surgery next door just in case. Did it and got into the office, puffing slightly at the top of the stairs when the door buzzer buzzed. The practice manager from next door had come to query my photography. Responding to her challenged ‘why’ with an unhelpful ‘because’, I tried to explain my general photographic interests and mild amusement at her sign (having succeeded in stopping people smoking indoors, and made advances on banning smoking in cars, doctors appear to be insatiably adding to their list of things we should stop doing by trying to prohibit smoking outdoors). She explained that ventilating her room by opening a window brings loitering smoker’s fug directly into her office and she’d (understandably) rather they didn’t puff right outside. I laughed at the fact that the smokers probably work here and gave her one of my (moo-made rather one of the long-promised official vapour-ware) blipfoto cards. We parted amiably. Later, the wee sign had gone. Not the result I’d wanted at all.

The photo is of a piece of graffiti I came across. A paper shark cut out and pasted onto this nice blue fence, which I’ve previously posted


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This entry was posted on July 20, 2010 by in The Bank of Me.
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