That's it my memory has gone.

I am starting to feel my age. Little knocks, bumps and bruises incurred in the course of my job and daily life that I used to shrug off in no time are now affecting me long term. Example, a cut on my arm incurred when I fell on a ladder (yes, on, not off - that's the way my life goes) has scarred and left permanent marks, which when I was younger would have just disappeared. Example - Shingles has left me with aching arm and shoulder and neck pain two weeks after I returned to work. This wouldn't have happened in my younger days. Smacking my funny bone on the car door earlier today wouldn't have left a big bruise, swelling and what feels like a loose bit of bone floating about in there a few years back. Driving home from work in the dark I found myself struggling to read the name of a road I was passing, which was a double problem - not only was I struggling to read it without my reading glasses, but I was also struggling to remember the name of it, even thoguh I drive past the same road every day.
So now I have to admit it - my memory is going. This is proven by this post tonight, because as I sat down to eat my Fish and Chips at work, a rare treat in these days of watching the weight, I had a "Eureka" moment during the conversation with work colleagues, something was mentioned which I though would make a great topic for tonights blog. It was a brillaint subject, witty, humourous, dazzling funny and would be well written and topical. Sadly, I now have no idea what the hell it was. So you have to read this drivel instead.
My memory it seems is slowly but surely going south, which means I may have to drive to Lincoln before I remember I live just outside of Hull. I find myself going downstairs from my office three or four times wondering what I went down for when I get there, remembering things that I should have done whilst there, but knowing with that nagging certaintly, that whislt I have remembered those things , they were not THE thing I went down for. On a positive side that keeps me physically fit, running up and down the stairs, but it is a relief mentally when I eventually remember that what I went down for in the first place was my reading glasses, but by the time I get back up stairs I forget what I needed them to read.
There are of course worse things in life than loosing your memory. Loosing your eyesight, lack of memory, lack of mobilty and loosing you memory being just three of them.
But when you go home to the wrong house that you haven't lived in for fourteen years, and find your mobile phone in the fridge you know things are going downhill. Forty may well be the new thirty, but thirty isn't what it used to be. At least , not how I remember it.