People accept that thanks to my brain injury, my memory can be like a sock with a hole. – Most of the foot is happy enough, but if you focus on the toe who is forced into a strip act, that’s a different story. The bit that seems to be harder to accept, is that I can’t always be sure of the order of events.

I would be a terrible police witness.

The more you question me to try to get me to pinpoint the details, the worse I get. Even when it’s a subject I brought up I can quickly realise I am more sketchy than I thought. For example, I might have done something, like found a website that’s really useful and be recommending it to someone. Should they ask how I found it in the first place, I might be confused. A third person may try to remind me they told me about it. Whilst I might remember we briefly spoke about it, I’m not sure if that was before or after I came across it.

It’s not that I don’t want to give credit where it’s due, I just can’t be sure that it happened in that order. So in this instance I would accept they are right and move on. After all that’s a stupid thing to argue about anyway. But what if it was something more important?

If I start to worry I’ve done something wrong, I can picture the events but start to panic about which came first. In my local area there are lots of serious pot holes on the roads. Recently, when driving in the dark my partner James drove over one that was so vicious it bent his alloy wheel. I think the same one got me, but just threw my tracking out. I mentioned this to James’ Dad. He asked why one of us hadn’t warned the other about the offending pot hole.  Sensible question, but then my brain froze.