Friday 14 March 2008

remember what?


Once a month.
Not a great average, really. Well, I suppose it is for some people. Like a golfer getting a hole in one. Or a band getting a number one single. Or a drummer getting attention from a groupie. Once a month for all of these would constitute a great average. But. For a self-proclaimed 'blogger', it's utterly shameful. Unfortunately that seems to be all I am capable of producing, which leaves me in reverend awe of my infinitely more profligate blogging colleagues.
A relatively literate male approaching the end of his youth* having lived a reasonably eventful existence to date, including touring the country in a semi successful band, and being a father of two with a career in local law enforcement in a very 'colourful' area of town should have enough tales to tell each and every day. But all my pitiful blog skills can come up with is is the aforementioned once a month average. Sorry.
Aside from the obvious potential breaches of the Data Protection Act, the only excuse I can give for this below par batting average (is that a mixed metaphor?) is that I have one of the worst recorded memories on, er... record. Seriously, it is a great regret of mine that I just can't seem to bring those manifold tales back to life on demand. Especially when my fellow veterans seem to have such vivid recall, and expect quite rightly that I should share once again every detail of an experience from 15 years ago about which I have absolutely nothing to go on.
"Yeah, but what about Dumfries, eh? That bloke with the trousers? Brilliant!"
"Isle of Wight? I cant believe you drank that!"
Erm, yeah... I know... Amazing...
And it's not just the old band stuff that is a problem, when to be honest I could quite justifiably claim the effects of excess as an excuse for absence of reminiscence. Even my more recent, far more sober recollections seem to trickle away like a dropped ice pole on summer tarmac.
"Remember that drug dealer that pulled a knife on you before you wrestled him to the ground?"
"Erm, yeah... well, sort of..."
"Members of the jury please disregard this witness as a hopeless buffoon"...

Funny thing is, there are plenty of things I do remember all too well. If you name an area of London, I can tell you the postcode. Hackney = E1. etc. If you were to ask, I could tell you that Pi = 3.141592653. I remember the reg plate of James Bond's underwater Lotus esprit is PPW 306R. Harrods' phone number is 730 1234. The Parcelforce van that cut me up yesterday has the reg no KE54 AWW.
I dunno, maybe my subconcious just has different priorities from my conscious self. Maybe I need to change my blogging habits. Maybe this should be less 'recollection based' and more 'opinion based'. One thing I am good at is expounding. Offering up my views on any subject whatsoever has never been a problem. So let's see. Give me a subject, and I'll bore you to death. Just don't be surprised if I've unwittingly done it all before.


*(sherrep)