I mentioned last week (Ramblings From a Misspent Week) the indignities of being led by the hand when lost on two separate occasions. It is NOT funny and I presumed it is a recent aberration in part due to increased years. Nobody is too sure as to the effects of a TGA I experienced a couple of years ago. (see blog dated 18th May 2008) To be told you have brain damage is both eerie and intriguing. Which bits gone I wonder. Then I happened to be reading my diary for 1985 and lo and behold, I find it is no recent 'quirk'. Seemingly there is no hope for this bumbling geriatric.
To 'lose' someone in Asda, a huge local supermarket is quite an eye-opener. I spent twenty minutes trying to locate Paulette and trolley having spent five minutes studying the motoring section. Whilst Paulette melted anonymously amongst the milling hordes, another individual was so conspicuous that three times I espied him, unmistakable amidst the masses. Unfortunately the reason for his conspicuity was the fact that he so obviously sported a wig, a fact he no doubt wished to hide, an irony indeed. Seemingly the trouble with wigs is that they draw attention to themselves by the obviousness of their artificiality.
A Derby pub renowned for its tough Irish clientele has a customer whom I suspect boasts the world's most obvious toupee or wig. Ginger in colour, parted down the middle, it sits squarely on his large, presumably bald head, almost as if it had fallen from the sky, reminiscent of a furry animal or tropical insect at rest. One could not fail to be drawn, fascinated to such an unusual adornment. Whereby the large, fierce looking Irishman would look in your direction and you, in turn would focus your eyes over the head or shoulder of the gentleman in question, pretending to study a calender, a notice, even the wall itself. The joys of toupee ownership. Is it worth it?