Today as I left work, my mind wandered to a weird place. I don’t even recall why it went there or how it got there. All I know is that it found an indescribable something there.
I have no idea what it was, but it manifested itself in a really strange way; as I was walking down the stairs I found myself singing this:
I wasn’t just singing it – I was singing it loudly and accompanying myself with whistling.
Thankfully nobody heard me, apart from perhaps the security guard (who will now keep a very close eye on me). As soon as I realised what was happening I started to question my sanity and asked myself one simple question:
“Where in the name of Thor’s Hammer did THAT come from?”
Why was I singing an old Tom Jones song? I don’t even like the song (though I am secretly worried that a weird part of me DOES like it).
Does this ever happen to you?
It happens to me all of the time. I can find myself wandering through the city centre and my mind just vanishes into realms unknown, sometimes with music (and usually crap music at that).
Thankfully my mind leaves behind the autopilot; you know – the device that kicks in when you are drunk and somehow gets you home (via the beer scooter or whatever).
The result is a zombie-like imbecile wandering around Manchester heading vaguely towards a shop but with no concept of his surroundings, who might be watching and most importantly, what he might actually be saying or singing.
I must look like a total dope.
I’ve heard the phrase:
“I’m sorry! I was miles away.”
I tend to say:
“I’m sorry! I was light years away fighting an intergalactic war accompanied by Lady Ga Ga and her poker face.”
Sometimes, I have even found myself openly cringing such is the weirdness of my mind’s odd location. Once my mind vanished into my past as I was walking through the city and it chanced upon the time when I flew over the handlebars of a bike and cracked my front tooth on the road. The feeling of enamel hitting concrete resonated through my head and I found myself saying:
Sadly, I realised that I was walking past innocent and unprepared Mancunians who presumably thought that I was expressing revulsion for their appearance or odour. I’m surprised I wasn’t whacked. And of course I apologised unreservedly for any offence that might have been caused.
“I’m sorry!” I said. “I was decades in the past!”
I hope that I am not the only person inflicted with this problem. I have just realised that by confessing to this to you, dear reader, I might lead you to believe that I am a nutter. Imagine if I really am the only person who finds himself lost in his own mind while in a crowd of people.
“Er – sorry to tell you, Dave, but I don’t know anybody whose mind wanders like that.”
Writing blog posts about such things is dangerous, dear reader. You might be thinking:
“Who is this bloody idiot?”
Thankfully, I know of others who have the same problem so I feel that I can confide in you. I know for a fact that Mrs PM has the same problem – only far worse.
I’ve lost count of the number of times she has been so lost in her own thoughts that she has driven to work when she has meant to just pop to the shops.
If I ask her for a lift to work I have to constantly remind her that I am in the car.
“Why are you heading down the motorway? You’re supposed to be giving me a lift.”
The phrase she uses is:
“I’m sorry! I was away with the fairies.”
And I guess she probably was (as opposed to me flying a space ship into the oncoming Tharg war fleet with Doris Day serenading me as my co-pilot.).
So, if you see a gormless man walking around Manchester singing a truly horrific song like:
please be kind and tell me.
Better still, dear reader, please put my mind at rest and confess if the same thing happens to you.
You can lie if you want.