Some are terrible with names, some are terrible with faces, some have difficulty putting names to faces. I, on the other hand, seem to have a memory for names and faces however, anything else that gets stored in that memory box up there, I dont know how to retrieve.
A couple of years ago I picked the Bubela up from the creche in the gym after a workout and whilst I was talking or busy doing something, I could hear behind me someone saying how lovely the Bubela was, "such a good boy". Kvelling, I stopped and turned around, it was Aunty Linda chatting to her friend. I had not seen her since my wedding, so it was lovely to bump into her and introduce her to the Bubela. She was about to go into the gym with her friend and have a leisurely work-out on the bikes. We kissed goodbyes, as probably wouldn't see eachother until the next bar-mitzvah or wedding.
So, today I'm lounging around on the sofa watching MTV Cribs, greasy hair pulled back and not a trace of make-up. With the Bubela out this weekend at his Grandparents and the Hubby outside gardening I had no reason to be doing anything other than lazying around. The doorbell rings. Who in gods earth could that possibly be.
Hubby was in the front garden, I could see him from the window, what's he doing ringing the bell. I peel myself off the sofa and open the door to Aunty Linda. How does she know where I live? What's she doing here? She had come to visit her friend who had recently moved in next door and seen Hubby gardening and recognised him.
You know, I thought I'd recognised my new neighbour when I met her. She was Aunty Linda's gym friend. Small world.