A Letter To My Brain

 

Dear Brain,

Where have you gone? Are you hiding from me? I think I last heard from you three weeks ago when we had to calculate how much we owe everyone and work out how to pay them. You did well and I thought we had come to an understanding, that you could idle around for most of the time but would come to the rescue when I really, really need you. What happened? Was the adding up too much for you? Did I make you do a wrong number?

I keep knocking but you never answer. Taptaptaptaptap. Bangbangbangbangbang.

Where could you hide? There’s nowhere for you to go, you’re the same as me – you live in a vaccuum, dark and sealed. Did you find an escape route and run away when I was sleeping? Did you buy a French breast implant and sneak it under my skull hoping I wouldn’t notice in time to stop you? Well, it worked. Inside my head feels all woolly and dense, like a bulging, overstuffed mattress and if someone jumped on it they would bounce and bounce and bounce.

Trying to figure out where you are is hard without you. I know I haven’t treated you well lately and I don’t blame you if you have run away, I’d do the same myself if I could get out of this house. I know you miss the Outside just as much as I do, but we have fresh air when we open the windows and the sun shines through the house for much of the day. Isn’t that enough for you? I know we can’t go for walks like we used to, up on the moors to ride the wild sheep, to feel their springy power as we gallop over the tussocky hummocks of grass, the wind ragging through our hair and their fleece; to see their little faces as we bleat and baa to them in their own language, alleviating their loneliness for a short, sweet time. I miss that too, Brain. You’re not the only one.

If you come back I will make you a promise. For one day in the week I will eat fish instead of Cumberland sausages. And I will buy Omega 3 supplements and take them every day. That’s actually two promises, but you’re worth it. Also, I will buy a book of Sudoku puzzles, the hard ones. And I will never, ever watch television again (except clever programmes like University Challenge and Top Gear).

Please come back.

All my love,

Dotty  xxx

 

 

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13 Comments

  1. tussocky hummocks of grass? That is good.
    How come when you wonder where we went you don’t consider that whining?
    Just something to think about.
    I love Top Gear… but the new American version sucks.

    Reply
  2. and this rider of wild sheep, she who would threaten with a shooting stick those who would stray too close……..

    Reply
    • Dear sacha,

      Some sheep are nice sheep, some are psychos – but you can’t tell which is which so they have to be kept at a distance until you get to know them otherwise you’ll find yourself lying on the moor with no legs to get home on because they’ll have EATEN THEM.

      Love Dotty xxx

      Reply
      • but they all look so schnuckums……except of course the south australian merino…..which i think is due to its higher than average coefficient of variation of fibre diameter……but i could be talking crap

      • Dear sacha,

        Or it could be due to the lonely old South Australian sheep farmers.

        Love Dotty xxx

  3. there’s nothing so world weary as the look of a sex trafficked sheep…..maybe zak dingle is a sex trafficked sheep

    Reply

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