Stephen I don't know if I ever told you about the day I forgot my legs. I can't remember which day it was: it was one of those ones that happened in 1987, I can't remember which exactly, there were so many. In particular there were quite a lot of Tuesdays then, I remember, so I've a feeling it might have been one of those. Anyway, I was on my way into work with Sir Peter Thorneycroft, no relation, one fresh June morning in early May and we took the short cut across the fields. I stooped to pick a buttercup, why people leave buttocks lying around, I've no idea. The gentlest breeze and mildest Camemberts were packed in our hamper and all nature seemed to be holding its breath. We made good time by taking a back way across what was then the main Corpusty to Saxmundham Road. I was just remarking to Peter how still and peaceful everything was when he suddenly agreed with me and said how he thought everything was still and peaceful too. You know how if you half-close your eyes you can't see so well? I'd just discovered that it was equally true if you half-opened them. I was pointing this out when I suddenly noticed that I'd completely forgotten my legs. We had to go back and get them. The moment was spoiled and three years later almost to the decade, Margaret Thatcher was hounded from office. I sometimes muse on what might have happened if I had forgotten my ears as well. Never go back, ladies and gentlemen. Never go back.
Download The Day I Forgot My Legs as XML