Just been listening to the radio 2 programme about John Lennon's last day.
Bear with me, but on the morning of 9th Dec 1980 I was awoken by that lovely batlady Mrs S with a cup of tea. May have had a pint or two too many pints of Smithwicks the night before, but I was totally confused by her telling me in her broad Belfast accent that 'That poor Mr Lenin' s been shot'.
'He's been dead since 1924' I replied to her utter confusion.
Some time after breakfast the truth dawned.
Same day my wife called from Somerset wondering why someone bad sent her flowers.
It was our first wedding anniversary. She had forgotten.
Sometimes you wonder if it's you that's lost the plot, or the rest of the world.