Poor old woman

I was sitting quietly playing angry birds when the phone rang.
"Are you coming to talk to us?" said a voice I recognized
"Yes, tomorrow ." I said.
"Now." she said firmly.
Oops. I had written my speaking engagement into my diary for Tuesday this week. It was Monday. Today.
David ran me down to the Memorial Hall asking me as we went if I needed notes or anything.
Too late to worry about that then. We were nearly there.
The Golden Age Club was waiting. All in rows, about 50 of them. I knew at least half of them because at some time in the past I had buried their spouses. They beamed at me as I apologized profusely and then I talked. I told them all about my several past lives as teacher, writer, producer. And finally got to the bit where I'd become a priest. Of course I didn't need a script...I didn't talk about God because they'd asked me not to but He'd had to come in somewhere...
They clapped. They tried to press food on me but I'd had a shepherds pie just a little earlier and then they gave me a bottle of wine and I came home.
What was extraordinary was that I then felt tired and I remembered that in the past I had given a talk a week to all sorts of societies in the north...it was something I was used to and was on the speakers circuit for years.
It brought home to me as nothing else has done that I am getting old. I never felt tired after talking..it used to exhilarate rather then deplete.
Poor old woman. Forgot the meeting and then fell asleep after it.. hey ho.

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Location:Truro,United Kingdom