It had to happen one day
Morning! Ingolby here.
When I posted my blog yesterday, probably to their relief, I promised readers that I would be reporting upon progress on my 2017 fitness regime on a weekly basis. I therefore apologise for putting my head above the parapet quite so swiftly (only 24 hours later).
On that score, however, I only wish to note in passing that yesterday – after consumption of a cup of coffee, scrambled eggs on toast, an orange juice, a banana, a chicken sandwich, a small can of tonic water, two pints of Ribena, a portion of bread-crumbed sole and an onion, tomato, avocado salad with balsamic dressing, plus a walk to the gym for a session of 15 minutes cardio work, 10 minutes on the weight, a swim and a 10 minute sauna – I managed to register a day-total of 25,671 steps, which is a new world record for me by the margin of 7,500 steps and some two and a half times my supposed daily target.
More important, and the real purpose of returning to the fray today, is today’s media story doing the rounds that people who live next to main roads and/or in big conurbations are statistically more likely to be at risk of becoming prey to Alzheimer’s Disease.
See here for a representative piece on this subject by Katie Taylor on the website of – THE INDEPENDENT
I think I’ve just caught it (Alzheimer’s).
For these purposes I shall leave aside not only family genetics and the fact that my mother died from it ten years ago, her brother eighteen months ago and that her sister now has it as well, but that I am also now in my mid-sixties and somewhat prone to forgetfulness and/or occasional what are teasingly described by my kids as ‘senior moments’.
It may not surprise readers that after my rather energetic day yesterday and returning home from the gym to ‘load up’ with my fish & salad evening meal I was absolutely bushwhacked. I began feeling exceedingly sleepy from about 6.30pm and finally took myself off to my pit at 7.40pm, just twenty minutes before kick-off of the Spurs (my team) versus Chelsea Premiership match which I had been intending to watch live on television.
No matter that I was up shortly before midnight, a fact that had more to do with a full bladder than anything else, and that I returned to bed about 3.00am but then took until some point after 4.00am to nod off again.
As it happens, I later awoke again to discover that – in my terms – I had overslept and that it was already 7.07am, long (well 7 minutes) after I have normally gone across the road to collect my daily newspapers.
I therefore rose swiftly, pulled on some clothes, took some shrapnel (loose change) from the drawing room mantelpiece, and strode off on said mission before making myself some breakfast.
It was about this point that I put my hand in my pocket to get something from my wallet … and discovered it was missing, along with my handkerchief.
An immediate shot of involuntary adrenalin shot through the Ingolby veins but at this stage there was no need to panic – these items must be on the floor or window-sill beside my bed.
A nip to my bedroom proved that this was not the case. So where were they? I went into Benedict Cumberbatch/Sherlock mode and worked back through yesterday’s history in a trice.
I’d had mud all over the legs of trousers from my morning walk yesterday and had chucked them into the laundry basket – perhaps (idiot-like) I had simply left my wallet and handkerchief in them. Wrong.
Okay, let’s work backward (or forwards) from there. Yesterday I had a visitor billed to arrive at 1.30pm and so had decided to don a pair of half-decent black trousers as successors to those in the laundry basket.
Hang on, I was wearing those this morning – and they were the ones from which I had first noticed my wallet and handkerchief were missing!
I went back into the front room and searched my desk and my armchair and side-table with a toothcomb. Nothing.
I made myself some breakfast and reviewed the case. What to do if I couldn’t find them? Call the bank and cancel my debit and credit cards would probably be the first best move.
After about twenty minutes I decided to do one last sweep around my bedroom before pressing the panic button.
For a long while I was scrabbling through the detritus of my bedroom floor, puzzled as to what the hell had happened.
Suddenly the penny dropped.
Having dressed in my sports kit for the gym trip last night, I had put my smartish black trousers to one side before setting off.
When I had returned home, instead of opting to don them again, along with an old sweatshirt I had decided instead to jump into a pair of grubby old ‘painting’ trousers of the sort I never normally wear because – stupidly when buying them – I had under-estimated my leg length (I hate taking my trousers off in department stores) by an inch and a half and so, when I wear them, the trouser legs end about an inch above my ankles to general comic effect when I am seen out and about.
These items were in a pile in the corner. I swiftly went to them …. and sure enough, in the pockets were my handkerchief and wallet!
I shall be calling Alzheimer’s Research UK later this morning to book my room in one of their upmarket ‘funny farm’ residential homes …