Soon Captain Candy will be pulling up outside. I’ve already memorised our conversation. I will enquire as to his wellbeing and he will talk for a good twenty-five minutes. The twenty-five minutes will not be good, but at least I’ve heard it all before.
Many people tend to forget what they have already said or heard and just keep recycling it, day after day. The Australians do that with drinking water; they literally purify the shit out of it and present it as eau de table.
On Friday I was again asked by Captain Candy if I had any plans for the weekend. Without fail, and to anybody who asks me this, I say no. I never plan, I just let life take me. I’ve told candy this perhaps two hundred times, but he doesn’t listen. He is usually conconting his own onrunning and uninteresting titbits for me to digest.
I think that my wife has forgiven me by now. She read my post from yesterday and laughed. I think the ‘comic confusion’ and the Casblanca reference did that. The story of my morning ride and my clipping of thirty seconds off a climb was narrated to her at least three times. Unlike goldfish Candy, she remembered the first time, nodded, feigned interest and moved on in conversation (the type that is like tennis where both of you get to take part).
I have just looked at my watch, the sentinel that warns me of fate’s inevitable approach. It tends to arrive somewhere around this time. I gulped some tea a moment back and remembered something that I said which was quite wise:
“If you forget history, it will happen all over again.”
Many of you may think that this is not wise, just willfully stupid.
Has 1066 happened again?
Apologies for any mistakes or the leaking of vital information. I’m in a rush.