Forgotten, and yet …

I have two and a half thousand followers on this blog and all but a tiny fraction of them have forgotten me.

I have met many people in this life and most if not all of them think of me less than tree frogs.

I have almost forgotten what I was like as a child.

I have forgotten most of today.

I have been forgotten and I have forgotten.

This is the part where I should say ‘but …’ But I won’t.

Let’s let what is be what is and consign what is not to the realm of fantasy and fiction.

Let me write you a story of who I am now in the middle of this room with the few thoughts I can gather.

My name is Robert Colin Day and I was born in a small town to the north of Sheffield called Chapeltown. I was given enough love and affection to get me through my childhood intact with reasonably good emotional and physical health. I was not given a religion or a calling; I had to find them alone. As I grew older I discovered that I could make enough money to satisfy most of my physical needs. I grew more intelligent and capable as I progressed through life. I accepted all the privileges I was given by the lottery of my birth without questioning or thanking anyone or anything for them. I became older without having taken much advantage of my youth. I will no doubt squander all my energy on doing nothing more than enjoying my life. As I get to the end of my time I will look death in the eye and say yes, show me. I don’t know if there will ever come a time when I can truly think of myself as entertaining. I don’t quite have the confidence to be able to say that people will like me for who I am. Nevertheless, I refuse to pay for people’s affection by dressing up nicely, behaving like a gentleman and paying for favours. I have been staunchly heterosexual for my whole life having given only tiny headspace to any curiosity I have about other paths I could have taken. My last words will be touching and sweet. I will go on after leaving this body and if I don’t then I certainly won’t be worrying about that. I will be fifty-nine in July and that’s alright.