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Remind me to plead temporary insanity

The writer says the first signs of retrogressive amnesia hit him last Sunday when he and his cousin were walking to their favourite tavern for a snooker tournament.
The writer says the first signs of retrogressive amnesia hit him last Sunday when he and his cousin were walking to their favourite tavern for a snooker tournament.
Image: 123RF

I've finally lost it. I knew it would come to this when I would turn the house upside down looking for my spectacles when they were perched on my nose.

I am sure you have also looked for your car keys while you held them in your hand but what I'm talking about today is not a laughing matter.

There was a time when I remembered characters I read about in novels, such as Milly, the Piccadilly streetwalker in James Hadley Chase's Mallory. My memory served me very well over the years and I owe my education to it because I hated studying.

The first signs of retrogressive amnesia hit me last Sunday when my cousin and I were walking to our favourite tavern for a snooker tournament.

Suddenly, a Vrrphaa screeched up next to us and the driver got into animated salutations with us.

"Hey Mavusana, unqabile my bru," said the chap, who I swear I'd never seen in my life. I played along for the sake of being polite until he left. Then I asked Tuks, my cousin, to remind me who the guy was.

"I've never seen him before. I thought you knew him. He knows your name," said my cousin and we burst out laughing at what had just happened. We let the incident slide but it was the second incident on the same day that left me unhinged.

When we got to the tavern, my cousin left me to my own devices as he joined the tourney while I went to the bar and thumbed a copy of my Sunday World. I was joined by Sarah, an old acquaintance who, like me, didn't relish watching a game of pool.

Sarah, the former shebeen queen, swore she never missed Straight & Two Beers and told anybody within earshot that she knew the columnist, intimately. With my ego thoroughly massaged, I kept the drinks flowing.

We were chortling and chuckling when I saw the most beautiful woman on both sides of the equator. I stopped dead in my tracks as she walked towards us.

She was wearing those torn jeans that I'm told are in vogue although I always wonder who would intentionally buy rags in the name of fashion. I envied the pit bull terrier that must have tangled with her denim to expose her titbits.

Her red top hugged her figure like it was embossed on her body by Mother Nature herself. She was so symmetrical I wanted to take out my geometry set and measure her proportionality.

My lips were on the floor as she chitchatted with Sarah and was about to leave when I recovered my speech. I accused Sarah of bad manners for not introducing me to this fine specimen and invited her to join us.

"Haai Mavusana, of course you know me. I see you're still full of jokes?," said Bathsheba as I scrambled my brains. She patted me on the shoulder as she left, and electrocuted me with enough voltage to light the south of Joburg.

Sarah said I knew exactly who that girl was. That was her sister's daughter and she used to visit Sarah when I frequented her shebeen.

In the meantime, I have diagnosed myself with temporary insanity as my amnesia continues to set in.

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