‘You need to get yourself tested’, my wife said after yet another of my lapses, ‘you’re fast becoming a marble-free zone.’ I couldn’t disagree. Perhaps the relentless ‘mental ’elf’ craze had alerted me to my own flaws, though groping for names and words is, surely, excusable by 67. But I would often devour a book and, days later, struggle to remember not just title, author and plot but whether or not I’d actually read it. And could I reconstruct last week’s events, even in outline? No, of course I couldn’t.
The health insurer confirmed they do indeed ‘provide support for that’, the cost counting against my annual limit. I therefore fixed an appointment with the GP: ‘Very sensible to come in about this.
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