Maybe I have a brain tumour?

I know one shouldn’t joke about such things but maybe I do. There is a story in one of the Oliver Sacks books (An anthropologist on mars is my favourite one ) of a guy who was a peace activist or something similar in the 70s and ended up getting enveloped by a cult. His family were able to visit him after a while but were very concerned because he had gained a lot of weight (see moi), smiled all the time (OK, not me yet) and had no memory beyond about 1974 (see me on prozac). He also lost all his hair. Maybe something like this… (me in my thinner days) The people in his cult loved him because he was like their Buddha but when his family finally managed to get him away from them and into ‘a medical facility’ (see dictionary under ‘loony bin’) they found he had a massive, inoperable brain tumour. They stopped it getting any bigger but he remained, as Dr Sacks would say, 'locked in the past’ and totally unaware of modern innovations. At one point he breaks his leg and it takes months and months to heal because he keeps forgetting and falling over when he tries to walk.

The reason I think I might be turning into one of these

is because I used to be filled with zeal. Lots of fire and brimstone followed me around. I was going to change to world. I was going to not so much fight the system as run the system. I was going to be It. And now, I just want to knit. I sit around thinking about knitting. And more knitting.

Ah well. I am off to the US for a week tomorrow so may be MIA for a while but rest assured – I shall be thinking about all things knitterly in the meantime and will have much wool news to share by the time I get back!