À la recherche du temps perdu

 

 

À la recherche du temps perdu. In Search of Lost Time 

by Marcel Proust

There are times when we all sit back and reminisce on times gone by when things were different, perhaps better, or so we think, and definitely more normal; whatever normal means.

The other day, I was in such a mood of searching for lost time, or opportunities, as Marcel Proust wrote. My wife was in the kitchen preparing lunch and she asked me to help her. So I got out and sat in front of the TV so as not to get in her way whilst working. I think she appreciated that; although she did not say anything. 

I thought back to that day years ago when a lost sandal landed me in hospital. I'd been out shopping and bought this and that, some shirts, a pair of trousers, a pair of sandals and white socks, and so on.

On the way walking back, I stopped to search for something in my bags and discovered one sandal missing. I looked everywhere and could not find it. In sheer disgust, and in a fit of pique, I threw the other sandal away. I did what a reader of this Blog (Happyone) always does when she finds a lost glove on her walks. She puts it on a post by the road. So I put the remaining sandal by a letter box and continued home. I reasoned that perhaps someone might find both sandals and have a nice thing to wear.

When I got home and emptied my bags I found the other sandal which I thought was lost.

I rushed out in a hurry, running like a mad dog, tracing my footsteps for at least two miles, hoping to get to that letter box where I left the sandal.

It was not there.

I looked here, there, and everywhere, but it was not there. It was not here or everywhere either.

Inconsolable, sad and dejected, in no particular order, I made my way back home. Then I discovered that someone had put my sandal on a branch high up on a tree. They either must have climbed there, or someone lifted someone else up to reach that high. Some people have a weird sense of humour.

I jumped to reach the branch but it was out of reach. I climbed up the tree, missed my footing and fell hard to the ground. I was half on the side-walk and half not. At that exact point in time (À la recherche du temps which was the wrong time and place), a cyclist came at speed and ran over me.

I was hurt, scratched and bleeding, in whichever order you wish to consider it.

The cyclist was apologetic saying he never expected to run over someone falling from the sky. Technically wrong, but you get his point.

An ambulance was called. I was taken to hospital where a couple of nurses injected me with various injections in my backside as a precaution against all sort of bad things.

As my wife laid the table for lunch, I reflected on what I had learnt from that episode in my life.

Always wear clean underwear because you never know when you'll show your backside to complete strangers.

It is pointless going À la recherche of a lost sandal. Let bygones be bygones and never look back or else you'll walk into a lamp post or a tree.

Make yourself happy memories so that next time you reminisce you'll have a smile on your face rather than a pain in the backside.