Image via Wikipedia I'd like to say my memories came back in a dramatic fashion, that there was a flash of light and small harps played around me. But it was not so. Instead, I checked the calendar yesterday afternoon, and realised that my memories of being a young man were from 2010. I also realised it was still 2010. Piecing together these two facts, I realised that I had aged rapidly, and remembered everything.
But the problems aren't over yet. My memories of youth restored, I find it easier to move in my arthritic body, but the shackles of age still bind me. Worse, I'm still trapped within the confines of the hellish old folks home, to be poked, prodded, experimented on and - worst of all - fed pea soup. But I see a chance to escape - tomorrow, we're being taken on an exciting trip to the wool museum. Hopefully, amongst the exhibits and displays of scarves, by the bobbly hats and the terrible Christmas jumpers, I will be able to escape. Being a OAP, I'm mostly made of wool already, so I should be able to blend into my surroundings easily enough. Armed with two stale rolls, a knitting needle and a length of wool (Yes, I'm taking my own wool to the wool museum. I'm old.) I shall fashion weapons and escape. Then I'll come back to this place, and end the nightmare once and for all.