Memory problems

My head doesn't seem to be working very well.

I don't have much to report and what I did want to say seems to have slipped away into the foggy innards of my mind.

I can vaguely remember that I was going to tell you all about the "nose picker" that I had in my car the other day.
What struck me about the incident was the incredible depth to which he was able to excavate without popping out an eyeball.
Talking about "snot mining" may not be an acceptable topic though if you are reading this during your breakfast.

I can also remember I wanted to mention the hairdressers and make-up artists that hold up traffic in the mornings.  But it would have been more of a rant than an informative and descriptive piece of writing, so perhaps that should be consigned to the same memory folder as the "snot mining" incident.

There was so much to tell; so much information I was ready to impart, in order to give you an insight into my daily doings. But, in good old "old man" fashion, I've forgotten everything I wanted to say.

Oh, one thing has stuck with me ... I remember now.

It involves a middle aged female jogger, a rather large (but not large enough) blackberry bush and my need to be relieved of a certain pressure that had built up during a long walk with our three dogs.

We were on the last leg of our walk and Clover (bless her) was beginning to struggle in the heat.  Sox was doing her own thing and periodically checking to see if I was still behind her, and Sym (my boy!) was full of the joys of life and, unfortunately, still full of energy.  He continued to demand that his ball be thrown.

It was!

Many times!

As I said, our walk was nearly over.  There was little more that half a mile still to walk.  As we came out of the woods onto the gravel path, a jogger (the afore mentioned female one) passed us with a curt "Gangway!" and disappeared along the path in the direction we would be taking.

Five minutes later we came to a point on the path where an old rail line crossed the river.  The bridge is still there, closed off, but the track has long since gone.  It was here that I discovered that bladders have a finite capacity and that pressure had built up to an intolerable level.  I also discovered that relief from such pressure does not necessarily come in the shape of a tree.
In an emergency, any form of fauna and flora will suffice (the blackberry bush), believe me.

It took me a few seconds of hopping and jiggling about (I hate button-up jeans!) before I could assume the position and, accompanying myself with a long drawn out "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!", do what comes naturally.

At this point ... at the height of my "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" ... the head of the female jogger that passed us some minutes earlier popped up on the other side of the bush.

"Great minds think alike!" she said, red faced, as she slithered back into her lycra running shorts.

"Seems like it" was all I could counter with as the watering process continued.

As she jogged off she was probably thinking Oh my God, oh my God! I hope I never see him ever again ... at least not so much of him.

I was thinking Bugger! If I'd known she was there I would have gone to her side of the bush!

I had remained calm, as only an ex-soldier who has no qualms about peeing at the side of any highway or byway could, and continued on my walk with all three pups in tow.

On the short walk back to the car we must have passed about fifteen to twenty people on the path, so I guess we were both lucky to have only had a 'one person' audience each to witness our expulsions.

Hey! Would you look at that!

My head seems to be working again!

I wonder if it's anything to do with the brandy?