Still Playing the Drums?

On my afternoon constitutional; down Frazer, along Archer, through the woods by the railway line and back along Abby lane I was hailed by a friend I hadn’t seen in ages. In my defence constitutionals are meditative, moments where one’s mind flits around the universe of time and experience like a pinball satellite, and definitely not impending dementia that’s been impending since I was fifteen if not earlier. A woman with man attached was asking how I was. I landed on the nearest planet and in an effort to prove I did remember asked, “Still playing the drums?” She said no. Assuming she had relinquished the pursuit I commiserated. “No, no I’ve never played the drums. Oh this is my husband.” I smiled with a friendly nod but obviously didn’t disguise the fact he was definitely not the man my friend was last with. From there on he seemed to view me with some sort of suspicion. “St Wilfred's” she explained. Ah! And as if by magic I was terrestrial again. “Ah now I know exactly who I thought you were, you know the one who played the drums.” In retrospect this didn’t allay suspicions. Did I now know who ‘she’ actually was? and had his wife led a secret life playing the drums with a likeable guitarist? Of course I did and she hadn’t but clarification wasn’t exactly clarified. Well after our subsequent conversation I can now clarify that she is a very lovely person that I do know who lives with her husband in a house by the red car and quite probably doesn’t know that Pina, who did and now possibly doesn’t play the drums ever existed. And if you’re still confused, welcome to my world.