I’m back. Yup – here I am. The troubling thing is, I didn’t know I’d gone anywhere. And I might be driving. Perhaps on the motorway. It’s even possible that there is a small child in the back. And yet off I went anyway. Off to the nowhere place.
Since childhood we have all been familiar with that thing where you read a book for a while – turning the pages and everything – and then, somehow, emerge only to realise that you need to re-read everything because you took nothing in. Truth is, you weren’t really there.
Well, latterly, that ‘drift’ has bled into real life situations where it would be far safer to be actually present. You know, those dinner party conversations where you veer into auto-pilot, re-appearing only in time to realise that you’ve just murmured “How exciting” in response to someone’s “My mother died last week”. Embarrassing but not actually dangerous.
And here you are, standing in the kitchen, holding a whisk. “Why the whisk?” is a standard Midult amnesia-lite question. Like “Where the keys?” or “What the day?”. But the nowhere place has led you from wherever you were to the kitchen and it has placed your hand upon the drawer and it has claimed the whisk. “Why?” is not the problem. “How?” is the problem.
Crossing roads, using sharp knives, operating heavy machinery, mid-flirtation, mid-divorce negotiation, mid-pitch, mid-sex (this is the least worrying – we all tend to go somewhere), while internet shopping, during exercise (ideal), the nowhere place has no respect for personal safety or for reputation. One question: Is it only going to get worse? Is it the gentle beginnings of Never Never Land? In which case, fasten your seat belts… things could get a little crazy around here…