I have thought many times that I might be losing my marbles.
Not that I actually had many in the first place. I mean, where can you buy these things now that Woolworths has gone (children, ask your parents). Anyway, I think that my state of being doolally has gone to another level.
Today, I looked in my diary for next week – yes, it’s a leather covered Filofax that people have told me might be worth money to the BBC vintage props department – and on Monday it appeared I have a date with Richard Dawkins. The name rang a bell, but I don’t really know any Richards.
Obviously, this is a nice comedic set-up for a shortening of that name which I can’t do for three reasons. First, the editor would have a heart attack; secondly, my mother might read it; and thirdly, any male friend might get upset in a paranoid sort of way.
Anyway, to Google and it appears that Richard Dawkins is at the Lyceum Theatre on Monday, so I called the theatre in question and it appears that I did indeed buy a pair of tickets to see him. I have no memory of doing this. I cannot think of a reason why I did so, although I do think that he is quite a clever man.
At present, my husband is working late every night and I don’t think the lure of an anti-creationist lecture would really be enough to haul him back early. So why did I do it and when did I do it?
To be honest, those are quandaries that may never be answered. Suffice to say I have a friend who recently read an interview with him – I suppose he is flogging something otherwise why else would he be in Edinburgh on a Monday night? – and thought he sounded interesting. Thank the Lord, which is not an expression that Mr Dawkins would use, because she’s going to come with me to see what life is all about.
Perhaps we’ll have a great night and I’ll realise that being doolally is the answer. I just need someone to tell me the question.