I'm getting old. My eyesight is at that stage where I have to confess that it is painful to try to read something held too close to my eyes but if I move it further away I can't read the small print. The work printouts I use at my new job are so small that I have taken to enlarging them on the photocopier before I settle down at the computer. I am however still reluctant to give in and get glasses as I am convinced that once I do that, my eyes will sort of shout "Thank God!" and give up trying, and I'll have to wear glasses for everything and I will constantly lose them and half my life will be spent trying to find my glasses unless I get one of those chains to hang them around my neck in which case I end up looking like one half of Hinge & Bracket.
Which brings me to the other thing I am noticing more often, which is the way my memory works. Or more accurately, doesn't. Today in Sainsbury's car park I was loading my shopping into the boot when a car stopped beside me and the lady in the passenger seat asked me if I knew where Dunelm Mills was (this is a shop. I have no idea what it sells but I know where it is.)
I said sure, and proceeded to tell her to drive straight along the road in front of us until she saw Pets At Home and JJB sports, drive between them and Halfords, then take a right turn by Carphone Warehouse, opposite McDonalds, drive past TK Maxx and Laura Ashley and they'd find it. She thanked me and drove off.
And I wondered why it was that I had clearly memorised the location and names of a number of shops I NEVER GO INTO such that I could recall them instantly, whereas most of the time I can't remember the names of people I work with, what the important errand I was supposed to run was or where I have left my car keys.
What's more, I have discovered that I have a huge library of song lyrics stored in my brain which I can access instantly. It is normally about 3pm when I drive to pick up the boys from school and on Radio 2 at that time (I am definitely too old for Radio 1) Steve Wright plays a run of golden oldies. And I can sing along with virtually all of them. Last week I sang along with Neil Diamond to "Love on the Rocks" and I was word perfect. I don't think I have heard that song for about 30 years, so how come I can give a flawless rendition of that with no effort when I cannot for the life of me remember the name of the woman who lives at number 6 in our street and who has sent us Christmas cards for the past 10 years?
There should be some gizmo you can buy to sort of de-frag your brain the way you do with the computer hard drive. Something that would let you decide whether you could safely delete your perfect recall of Rick Astley's back catalogue and the scripts of every episode of "Friends" ever made and thus free up some space for important stuff like remembering to wash your children's clothes so they have clean underwear (not that the elder of my children particularly cares about such things). If such a gadget exists, I want it for my birthday. Or maybe next Christmas. (I really really want a Wii Fit for my birthday.)