While in my local to see a band the other night, I bumped into one of the regulars, Keith. After exchanging pleasantries, he mentioned that he’d bought a ticket for a Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds gig. I enquired as to the venue and Keith responded something along the lines of Manchester, as we’d agreed. At which point, I had an extremely vague recollection of a conversation about the Nick Cave tour last week. Not wishing to expose my lapse of memory, I said that I’d not yet had an opportunity to buy a ticket. And all was well. 

Until today, when I received a text message: Gary,  I think I had a lot to drink last week or so when we talked about getting Nick Cave tickets. Phil reminded me last night in the Tuns that we’d agreed he’d get them for us! He bought 4 standing tickets. I now have a spare ticket!  No worries as I’ll get rid of it easily enough. Cheers Keith

My memory, after alcohol, is clearly even worse than I could have imagined. I now need to remember to reimburse Phil for the cost of my ticket. 

Thinking positively, though, it seems that memory loss may be normal for a gentleman of a certain age.