Train Of Thought

Entry by: Olivia

17th July 2015
Train of Thought
Here he comes again, doesn’t he have anything else to do? Just wanders up and down all day, mumbling. I am in a place that is called my home; however, I seem to be sharing it with many strangers. I think I know some of them but I am not sure why.
‘Tablets dear’, says Heidi, Heidi is the one (I think) who seems to be incapable of grasping my name, which I am fairly sure is Molly. She uses ‘dear’ whenever she is too rushed to remember. I am not at all sure why she is in my home with a great big moving box full of bottles. ‘Take these please Molly, there’s a dear’. ‘Take what?’, I wonder. I can’t see anything that I might like to take. Heidi puts something in my hand and looks expectantly at me. ‘Please take them, I have such a lot to do. Take your tablets Molly’. Oh, my tablets, why didn’t she say?
Something furry brushes past my legs, I think it’s a cat, I may have seen it before, does it have a name?
A young boy arrives and kisses me, saying ‘hi Nan’. Does that mean I am his grandmother? Well, that’s interesting, so which one is he? My daughter’s boys all look the same, I think he is one of them. If I wait, more might arrive then it’s easier to tell them apart. But it’s just him. Try some basics.’ How’s work’ I ask jauntily, searching for a tissue, I’m sure I had one up my sleeve. ’Work’s fine thanks Nan.’ Bugger – that’s no help. Where did I leave my handbag? I must go and find it, right now. You just don’t know what is going to happen if you leave stuff.
I leave this pleasant young man, I don’t think I know him, perhaps he lives here too? When I see him next I’ll ask him.
Now, my room, which way is that? This looks familiar, white door. Oh no, I’ve been burgled, someone has taken all my photos from my wall and where is my perfume bottle? And my handbag isn’t here. I feel really rather unwell, dizzy, I would really rather like to sit down but my chair must have been taken. Come to think of it, who is that sitting in my bed? I go over to her, I am really cross. ‘Get out of my room you silly old woman. Go away.’ I think I am shouting, it seems that way. Now the room seems very full, lots of young girls all wearing the same clothes. Am I back to school? ‘Come on dear, this isn’t your room’, they say and walk me out. ‘Where shall I go and where is my handbag?’ ‘Your bag is in your room and your room is just there’ says one of the school children. The place they have put me in seems vaguely familiar and there is a lovely picture of my Ted, he’s probably down the garden.
My thoughts are difficult to capture and words seem to elude me. At the edge of my thoughts there are jagged edges and a place I can’t reach. Many words elude me completely. I forgot what a tiger was yesterday, the word just wouldn’t come, I knew it was a big cat and it was dangerous but the word for its name was a big gap.
Sometimes I know quite a lot but I’m not sure if it’s a right knowing or if I am just guessing. I know who I am today and I know that my husband is Ted, but I don’t know where he is. People tell me that he is dead but I would know if that’s the truth, wouldn’t I?
I don’t think I’ve ever been very good at directions but this place is a complete mystery to me and I can’t find the loo. Yesterday, or this morning I wet my knickers, I had spent so long looking. The school girls say its fine, but that’s not true, after all, I’m a grown woman. I’m in my late 40s. One of the girls asked me how old I am and then laughed when I told her. She told me I was nearly twice that age but why should I believe her? She tells lies about my Ted. Ask my mother, she can tell you how old I am.
I think I’ve had a good life. I can remember when I was a girl, we played outside but when the war came we all got sent away. My uncle was horrid, I don’t want to think of all that pain. Ted wasn’t in the war, he was on the land. Do you know where my handbag is? We got married, that was 20 years ago, just after the war. I do have children but I only think about one of them. The other was too awful, we don’t have anything to do with her. Ted says she’s a waste of space. I expect he’s down the garden.
I think I’m going to be late for work. I’ll put on this jacket and go now. Where is my handbag, do you know? The door won’t open but I can’t think why I was going out anyway. Someone asks me if I would like tea, always bloody tea. I want to scream that I want a gin and tonic and something, only that word has gone too.
Someone is shouting loudly, I’m going to see him, that’s my job. On the way somebody stops me and asks what I’m up to. I can’t answer that ,I have no idea, wonder if she knows where my handbag is? I do wish Ted would hurry up, it’s always much clearer when he’s around. I ask the person who is with me if she knows where Ted is. Using that special voice they save for sad news she says that Ted is dead. Only I know that she is lying, he wouldn’t go without saying goodbye.
She asks if I am hungry, how would I know that? Might as well have something to eat when there’s a chance, you never know when you’ll have another meal, not with rationing as it is. Now, I should pay, do you know where I have put my handbag?
There’s a lovely picture on the wall, I want to show the little girl who’s walking with me but I can’t remember what the thing in the middle is called. The little girl is talking to me but I’m not joining in, I might get it wrong, it’s all so confusing. She’s asking if I want to watch a film, I have no idea how to do that. ‘No, I’ll have a biscuit thanks dear’, seems easier to say.
It’s like this all day, a muddle of places and times. Words fall in and fall out of my head. They scoot off into the distance, out of my grasp. They hide in the jagged edges of my mind, dancing and ducking. I can’t grasp them. The crossword is so hard these days, the letters just don’t fit.
I don’t talk much, it’s too awful to watch their kind faces trying to make sense of me. You see, it’s my train of thought, it’s been bumped so often it’s come right off the tracks