Dazed and Confused

Thickness as a brickness

I understand less and less with increasing age. I put this, at least in part, down to the following.

BLISS

Because she puzzles me. A lot. Much of the time.

DLL

For the same reasons.

Being dropped on my head

I can only guess, but it must've happened, because among other things I became addicted to playing football, which in turn involved a lot of:

Heading

“You're tall, quick, and have a decent jump. Centre forward.” (Ages eight to late twenties).

“You're slowing down a bit, but the stamina's better. Centre mid.” (Late twenties to mid-thirties).

“You're deceptive. Even slower than you look. Centre half.” (Mid-thirties to the present day (look, never say never, eh?)).

All of which involved heading the ball with brain-rattling regularity, not to mention the collateral damage: heading and being headed in the head by opponents challenging for the ball, with brain-rattling regularity.

Being clumped about the head

My mother was in a strange religious cult. The Roman Catholics they're called. Their god tells them to whack kids about the bonce if they'd rather kick a ball about (see “Heading” above) than sit about in uncomfortable Sunday best clothes while a bloke in a dress burns incense and goes on, at length, in unintelligible foreign.

In her eyes, it was a heinous sin to prefer the church of the onion bag and pig's bladder to that of the poison mind and the sun and stars revolving about the blessed earth.

Confused and dazed

The result of these and other factors is increasing levels of confusion and head-spinning lack of ability to understand what's going on.

Early onset

Spike Milligan said you should take an instant dislike to certain people, because it saves time. Looking back, I've been confused by so much for so long, that little has made sense for years.