Herself asked a simple question this morning.

She wanted to know when she had had her first stroke.

I pointed out to her that I have difficulty remembering something that happened yesterday, let alone something that happened years ago. I used to keep a diary journal but that fell by the wayside donkey’s years ago when every entry became “same as yesterday”.

She pointed out that I had this site and that maybe I had written about it there. I told her I only wrote about important things such as why our politicians are all useless cunts, and birds flying into windows and stuff like that. I didn’t think something as trivial as a stroke and long stay in hospital would have gotten past the editorial team.

I thought I might have a bash at some retrospection though. The trick was in looking for the right search. This site is a bit like the Large Hadron Collider – you can’t see the particles but you can see the ripples they cause, so I started searching for the ripples caused by my brief period of solitary bachelorhood. I found it! It was seven years ago.

Buoyed by this unexpected success I tried to find other events, or rather the ripples caused by said events.

It’s two years since she had her bionic knee implant. That means it’s two years since I turned the junk room into a hospital ward. I must get around to painting it sometime.

But enough of Herself. What about important events?

It’s six years since I had a holiday! Fuck me but it’s no wonder I’m going stir crazy.

It’s ten years since I was last in France though that trip wasn’t the greatest success, but that was simply down to going to the wrong area of the country.

It’s twelve years since the last trip to the Dordogne. That was probably my best holiday ever – four weeks of great weather, wine, good food and fantastic scenery. Twelve fucking years ago! I remember virtually every detail of it though which is unusual for my state of memory.

Bugger! Now I’ve gone all maudlin. There’s talk of a holiday in Ireland next year but Herself reckons I’m too old for driving on French roads [fucking nerve of her!] so she claims we have been there for the last time.

I say never say never.