The Forgetfulness of the Long Distance Punter

My age is showing. When I'm drinking beer, and otherwise entertaining myself, I find (more so with each day) that I can't hold a thought for longer than 10 seconds. I find myself watching something on the telly - and a thought crosses my mind - something I wish to pursue on the on-line and switch from telly to online, but by the time I'm online, I've forgotten why I wanted to be there.

Oh, sure, I remember now that I had something to say about Great Expections but even there I forget what it was... I remember reading Great Expectations as a ninth grader (ninth without an 'e'?) but now am wondering a little whether the version I read was abridged. Sometimes I think that, sometimes I think not... I find I have to read Great Expectations aloud. The wonder is that I can hear the voice of Dickens, or Pip, or Joe, or Miss Havisham, Miss 'A' to Joe, and sometimes it's just gibberish, but the rest of the times is a gentleman having a grand time expressing his digestives.

I remember reading Great Expectations with Ivanhoe. And these two novels set me down the path I've long been on, of reading this and that... And now, I have returned to Pip; I'm halfway down this lane. London's windows weep with soot when it rains.