ometimes I lose my mind.
Last week I left it on the bus and my husband had to go to the depot and pick it up for me. He didn’t want to, said he was too embarrassed but he was hungry and I couldn’t remember how to cook dinner without it.
Luckily someone had handed it in and he brought it home in a brown paper bag. I was waiting for him in the hall, eager to be reunited with myself and I think, or at least I think I think that’s where it started to go wrong.
I was sure I noticed some teeth marks in it, nothing obvious, just a little nibble here and there but Harry, that’s the husband, had slotted it back in place before I had a chance to have a closer look.
It wasn’t until the next day when I set off for work and couldn’t remember where the bus stop was that I started to wonder.
Then I noticed other things had gone missing too – my age, the children’s names, my best friends phone number and I couldn’t remember anything at all from 1993.
It was a bit strange for a few days but I was just beginning to get used to it when I noticed a mouse on the bus watching me and it had a familiar look in its eye, as if it was remembering back to a particularly good holiday it once had twelve years ago.
I saw the same mouse in the canteen at lunchtime and again on the way home.
Then it hit me.
When no-one was looking I ate the mouse and without thinking I phoned my best friend to tell her all about it.