I sat at the dining table and stared at my toast. There was only one and a half slices; one half was missing. It struck me that I might have missed that half, might have left it in the toaster. I pushed back my seat and rose, intending to check it out. My right foot immediately found the toast; I was standing on it. It felt soft yet crunchy. Looking down, I saw crumbs spread out from beneath my shoe. It looked like a swathe of gravel over the floor tiles. Ann laughed uncontrollably. Meanwhile, my brain had gone off in search of answers: was this one of the early signs of Alzheimer’s?

Past form

However, I should not be too worried because I have past form in creating comic scenarios. Some years ago, Ann and I walked the London Loop. We tended to eat wherever we came across a decent cafe. One, serving all-day breakfast, looked appealing. We sat outside on a smallish table. Ann warned me to keep my overloaded plate away from the edge. It had a mind of its own, slipped over and landed the right way up on my lap. Ann sees this and is already laughing. But, neatly half standing, I flicked the plate back on the table and continued eating, somewhat relieved. However, minutes later, a woman on the adjacent table, said, “Excuse me sir but do you realise you have a sausage on your lap!”

Giving joy to unknown women

Consequently, I thanked the woman and picked up the naughty sausage, more than pleased that it was a sausage. Ann still falls apart at any mention of this tale. Heaven knows, the woman must also tell everybody about the idiot with a sausage on his lap. As for me, it was into the toilets to try and wash the stains off my shorts. No doubt everybody noticed the great wet patch down the front.

The early signs of Alzheimer’s

Above all, I am aware that it’s every man’s principal duty in life to make his partner laugh. Consequently, and without much effort, I score rather highly in that regard and 49 years of marriage has not dulled my ability. However, as for the Alzheimer’s, I think I’m okay. On my cycle rides, I still pass between barriers without putting my foot down. I also find my way home. Even writing these posts requires me to use my faculties, or is it facilities, or is it functionalities? The moral of this story is not to worry about crunched, crunchy toast. That said, try not to expose your sausage to strangers.