Worried About my Brain

”If I only had a brain,” sings the scarecrow in the Wizzard of Oz.

I do have a brain and I’m beginning to get worried about it. You notice how I’m detaching myself and avoiding all responsibility here, like my brain is a separate being? Well, that’s how I feel.

Maybe my brain is weird because it’s December, I’m still a music teacher (even if I am doing slightly less and drifting through everything in a weird stress free way) and although I have come to terms with the elephant, he is still there, being elephanty and throwing the occasional peanut.

I know I have a brain, still because it wakes me up at 3am thinking about things. It wants to know why there are no B batteries, what happens if a snake bites his lip and why David Cameron is still thought of as a good guy. It also panics:
“What do you need to do tomorrow?”
“Why haven’t you got any icing sugar?”
“Have you marked those Christmas Carols?”
“You’ve got to play the piano in Church on Wednesday!”
“You haven’t picked up your contact lenses.”
“Fool! You agreed to have all the family round. You’d better organise it.”

It might be there but it’s not reliable.

At the weekend the Long Suffering Husband and I went to the Christmas market in Amiens. We were ‘Les Enfants Terrible’. Our friends were going and they had space in the back of their car. It’s one of the advantages/disadvantages of children growing up - they don’t want to go on holiday with you any more. For us, this was and advantage, as we were able to sit in the back and try not to interfere when
Mummy and Daddy were bickering about the traffic. We had a lovely time and watched a cathedral move but being away made me realise how remote my brain is at the moment. We were halfway there when I realised that I couldn’t remember putting my coat in the car. I sat quietly panicking for a while. The forecast was for freezing temperatures, biting winds and a risk of snow. I imagined myself with my coat over my arm getting in the car but it wasn’t with me. I asked the LSH if he had put it in the boot but he didn’t think he had. I didn’t think I had either but I must have done because it was there when we arrived.

On Monday I shopped for the Youth Orchestra Christmas party. I had a list, so I must have got everything but my brain thinks I’ve missed something and it keeps waking me up to tell me. I put the party food in the freezer and left everything else in a bag on the table. On Tuesday the LSH was working from home and he called me, “Did you mean to put the fudge n mince in the freezer?” He asked. I had no idea what he was talking about. He explained, “There’s a packet of country fudge and a packet of mints in the freezer.”
Suddenly I remembered, “The sweets for Tommy!”
Tommy is a traditional Youth Orchestra game that unfortunately this year will have to be played without a man in a tutu but the sweets shouldn’t have been in the freezer.

Wednesday was our work Christmas meal. We sat in the staff room at lunchtime and discussed how I was giving my friend a lift. She has been covering maternity leave and everyone was saying how much they will miss her, along with the other two people that are leaving. In front of me were the pots for leaving gift donations and the cards. I put money in the pots but for some reason never signed the cards.  At the end of the meal we walked back to the car and I opened the passenger door. I knew something didn’t look right but couldn’t quite work out what it was.
. “You’re driving,” my friend reminded me.
“I’m a bit worried about my brain,” I said and she agreed that she was also worried about it.

The first school nativity performance was on Thursday. My brain has been unreliable with the actions, causing actiongate. If you have been caught up in actiongate then I apologise for my brain. I thought I was going to be late for work and couldn’t find my phone. I rang it, as you do. It was on silent. I rang it 17 times. I could hear it vibrating in every room I went in but I couldn’t find it. It was in my pocket. The performance went well and I’m hoping no one noticed my moment of total panic when I couldn’t remember whether to tell the children to stand up or not.

The afternoon was spent enjoyably teaching. We were using stones to make music, as part of a Stoneage topic and have been practising doing the cup song rhythm while singing SingUp’s wonderful song, Two Piles of Stones.
“Okay, everyone, are you ready? Sit up straight, performance smilance.”
I laughed at my brain. “You’re making up words but I like it. It works. You always need smiling silence at the beginning of a performance,” I told it. Unfortunately, I had spoken aloud.
“It’s a portmanteau,” said the children. It’s amazing how good children are at labelling language now. Listen to any 4 year old read and they will point out the diagraphs to you.
“It is,” I said, “and I’m keeping it. If the politicians can have Brexit I can have smilance.”

I wonder what my brain will get up to today? I am slightly worried, as it’s a busy day: two performances, orchestra party and a Macmillan cocktail party to go to.