I’ll never forget the time . . .um, . . .I’ll never forget the time . . .the time
that . . .no, sorry, it’s gone. I can’t remember what I was going type. Oh
well. I’m sure whatever it was I’ll never forget was very memorable but I’ll be
damned if I can recall what it was right now.
Memory really is a funny old thing isn’t it? I mean, half of
the time you can’t remember things and the other half of the time you, . . .um,
. . .you, . . .no, sorry, I can’t remember what I was going to type about the
other half of the time but I bet it’s true whatever it is.
I do remember one thing though. I remember waking up around
five a.m. when I was six years of age and looking out my bedroom window. I
could see the silhouette of a poplar tree against a streaky porridge beige sky
and there was a sound in the air, like a drawn out shrieking. I remember that
quite clearly. I wonder what that sound was. I never heard it again. Or maybe I
did but I just can’t remember when I did. I doubt it though, if I heard that sound
again I would have remembered hearing it again because I never forgot hearing
it the first time and . . .oh, hold on, that’s what I was going to type at the
start of this post. I was going to type that I’ll never forget the time I woke up around
five a.m. when I was six years of age and looked out my bedroom window and saw
the silhouette of a poplar tree against a streaky porridge beige sky and heard
a sound in the air, like a drawn out shrieking. That’s what I was going type. I
remember now. Ha! Well, that’s memory for you.
Memory really is a funny old thing isn’t it? I mean, half of
the time you can’t remember things and the other half of the time you, . . .um,
. . .you, . . .no, sorry, I can’t remember what I was going to type about the
other half of the time but I bet it’s true whatever it is.
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