So it has become winter here in the Languedoc, suddenly, in two weeks, the temperatures have dropped by about 10 degrees and they are predicting a fall of snow on Saturday.
Difficult to believe I know!
So, in the space of about 10 days I have to have a total wardrobe weather realignment and change my normal flip-flops for shoes and socks, my shorts for longers, my tee- shirts for long sleeved shirts, find vests and gilets (I have foreswarn jumpers, but that is another story). Rooting about in the wardrobe I find just a very small selection of winter shirts so I announce to Sile that I must get on the internet and order some more in. She then informs me that she had put all my winter stuff away last March (when I donned the summer wardrobe) and she then produced a suitcase of clothes suitable for the winter. As soon as she produced these old friends, flannel shirts I have worn for years, corderoy trousers shaped with my knees over decades I instantly recognised them but could have not named one until the suitcase was opened.
Then of course I had to iron the lot of them, about 15 shirts and several pairs of trousers.
Now as is my wont when I iron I close myself into the office/laundry room and play loudly something from my youth. This time I picked Leonard Cohen’s Songs from a Room from the rack, an LP which I had worn out in the sixties but had recently replaced with a CD. As I played this while ironing I found myself singing along just as loudly with each song- and discovered I knew all the words- I was even word perfect in The Partisan the moment I heard the intro.
So what is it about the aging brain that it can store song lyrics in impeccible order for 50 years but cannot remember what I covered my body with a mere 8 months ago ?

“An old woman gave me shelter
Kept me hidden in the garret
Then the soldiers came
She died without a whisper.”