Blocked

“Repeat these words,” he said to me. Apple. Penny. Table. So I did.

And he nodded, and wrote something in his little…thing. Notebook. Wrote in his notebook.

And then he asks me what the thing on his desk is. I tell him it’s a pencil, of course. Why’s he asking me all these questions?

Then he asks me who the prime minister is. Who cares, I say to him. All the bloody same, they are. That shiny-faced posh schoolboy. Tip of my tongue it is. Campbell? No. Cameron, I tell him.

And it dawns on me why he’s asking the questions.

Ridiculous. Nothing wrong with my memory.

Nothing wrong with my mind.

Was a time I suppose they’d have asked who was on the throne. But it’s been a long time since the old king, so it’s probably not much use as a question these days.

I mean, it’s been the queen for so long now. Her initials on the post-boxes – though you do see the old ones from time to time, don’t you. Ones with GR, and even VR, rather than - where is it again? Ah yes. ER.

I remember the coronation, clear as day.



Begins here