AWOL

It’s a bit of a nuisance when your brain goes AWOL. Not totally AWOL. It pops up now and again and says, “Hi, just passing through!” before disappearing into the distance leaving nothing but a vapour trail.

My brain’s always had an occasional habit of informing me it can’t see anything here worth hanging around for, so it’s off to find somewhere nicer, see you in a bit, you can take all the pills you like, sunshine, I’ll come back when I’m good and ready and not before. Normally it buggers off for a month or so, decides it misses me and returns refreshed and ready for the fray.

Maybe it’s been the general shitness of everything at the moment, but Brain decided to take most of this year off. I don’t know exactly where it’s been, but while it was lazing around somewhere sunny and exciting, I was sitting around in my dressing gown watching TV crap, or deciding the world beyond the front door wasn’t really worth exploring, or Making An Effort And Putting On A Face for the occasional contact with people. Pick up a pen? Nah. Read a book? Now and again. I (or rather, my wonderful son and his partner) set up a website for me. I thought this might tempt Brain back but Brain was having far too good a time to bother.

I did try the pills. I thought they were working, sending out a siren call Brain couldn’t resist. Then Stomach said, “Just exactly which body part is most important here?” and made a point by…well, you don’t want the details, but I lost half a stone between Monday and Friday. This would normally be good news, but not when you have to ensure you’re not more than a ten second dash from the loo. Yes, it definitely was the pills. No, I really couldn’t be arsed to try another variety. Fuck you, Brain.

A few days ago, Brain decided to get in touch.

“How have you been without me?”

“I’ve been fine. No-one’s even noticed you’re not here.”

“Hmm. Bet that’s not true.”

“Yes it is. Anyway, what do you want?”

“Bit bored now. Thought I might come back for a bit.”

“Oh, did you?”

“Yeh. Get the band back together.”

“Great. Just what I need, you coming back here with a suitcase full of cliches.”

“Your kids’ll be grateful they don’t have to keep phoning to make sure you haven’t left the oven on or put the cat in the fridge.”

“Oh….hang on a minute…no, fine, cat’s on the windowsill. Okay, you can come back, but I want twelve months guaranteed occupancy, with renewable six-month options after that.”

“I’ll give it a go. But you have to agree not to overload me with crap.”

“Okay. I too will give it a go.”

So here we are. For our first joint outing we’ve come to ABC. Of course we have. Where else would we go? We made a brilliant start this week by forgetting our slot on the editing rota but, you know, all relationships need work.

So, as they (used to) say in Doctor Who: Allons-y!

PS: I have never, ever, put the cat in the fridge.

Picture: Random creation by author