Wednesday, 10 August 2016

Words Escape Me

I say "Victoria" and mean "Veronica".  Maybe it's the other way round.

The place "Laparade" in my head becomes quite another, "Lagruère", on my lips.

I used to think it was Tod not listening properly.  Now I know better. Words I once confidently controlled - on the page, through my speech - in recent years have taken on a life of their own. I can only watch helplessly as they dance round me, or totally vanish over the horizon, sometimes to be replaced by quite another, not to be trusted, which might or might not (usually not) be right.

The word for the white powder that thickens sauce but isn't cornflour vanished days ago. Others my brain offers as an alternative - aspartame, asafoetida - I know are not right.  It's true I could just open the cupboard door and read what's on the small tub, but that would be a defeat.  I would like the word to come back of its own accord.

I laugh. And try to suppress the small bubble of fear about what the years ahead may hold.