NEVER GO UP AGAINST A QUICK THINKER

No doubt you've heard of Cockney “Quick Wit and Ready Repartee”.  If you haven’t, I’m not the one who is going to explain it to you, it’s the kind of remark best explained face to face.

But my subject today is not so much Quick Wit, as “Quick Thinking”, and if you want to find out about that, then there’s mountains of information on the Internet.  Of course, most of it is totally nutty and useless including the advice to: Never stifle a yawn; try chewing gum or maybe give Pokemon Go a whirl.

Nevertheless, it does give some obvious tidbits such as: “Processing speed is defined as the time it takes your brain to take in new information, reach some judgment on it, and then formulate a response”.  Wow! Whoever wrote that is no Quick Thinker!

There are a couple of Mr. Google chestnuts worth remarking on, namely: “Faster thinking can help you in many aspects of life.” And “When people are required to think quickly, they report feeling happier, more energetic, more creative, and more self-confident”.

But to really understand the scope of “Quick Thinking” you need to do no more than look over the shoulder of a Master as he uses his inborn ability to “Just Do It”.

Naturally, I’m talking about LB and an incident that happened when we were all younger and the earth was cooler.  This story involves his love of animals, and Sam, the second Airedale terrier in his household.  

Sam was a wonderfully lovable dog; he was the reason for LB’s hair perm and the star of the one-time dog show.  He was also an escape artist and a bit of a wanderer.  

Mainly he liked to trot off to the local McDonalds where he would sit with a totally untrue hungry look, until some vulnerable animal lover would fall for his tricks and buy him a Big-Mac. Most times his escape was noticed and a quick retrieval from his hamburger heaven was accomplished.  

   But then it happened. One day he’d escaped and couldn’t be found.

          A day passed. Everyone in the family was worried.  But no news is good news.  After all, he was a pure-pedigreed dog, totally micro-chipped and identified with his name and telephone number on his dog tag.  Surely if he had been found someone would have notified the Humane Society.

          Two days passed. Hallelujah, he had been found.  

Well, not found exactly, more “opportunistically rescued” shall we say, from his McDonalds soliciting stand. The Finder, rather than taking him to or calling the Humane Society had held onto Sam while she considered her options.  

Obviously, this was a dog worth some money.  How much she wondered?  She called the number on his dog-tag.  

Fortunately, she spoke to LB.  She had the dog and would return it for a reward. “Wonderful” said LB.  “Would $100.00 be sufficient?”  You bet it would, (remember this was a time when $100.00 could buy Sam 40 BigMacs at $2.50 a pop). Finally, a meeting was arranged for exchange.  Sam was ecstatic to see LB.  The Finder?  Well, she wasn’t quite so ecstatic to see the $100.00 donation receipt from the Humane Society that LB gave to her as her reward.

          It’s very hard to best a “Quick Thinker”!

CHRISTMAS MEMORIES

Funny, isn’t it, what we do with memories. 

We bring them to mind, toss them around, snip a little here and there, polish up the bits that need brightening then present them to ourselves and others as genuine revelations. Or, then again, perhaps it’s just me that does that.

                Not only do I do this with my memories but it seems I also do it with the memories of others.  Take this blog for example.  So many of the things that I write about come from the recollections of someone else.  A notable memory prodder for me has been LS.  She seems to have been completely involved in the life and lives of our Covey.  Whereas, I, seem to have either been absent or have made amnesiac snips of entire memories.  Take the one she mentioned recently about her Christmas wish for a satchel. I have no recall whatsoever of these events. 

As much as she wanted this prized item, she knew that the likelihood of Santa, the Tooth Fairy or any other mystical being bringing this to her was extremely remote.  Despite her prayers, her straight forward requests and outright begging, she knew, in no uncertain terms that there was no money for such a useless item.  Better forget it and get on with living.

                And living is what it’s all about.  Christmas was very close so there were lots of preparations, even for a poor family.  Mum had things to do and places to go, so she got on her bicycle with the plan that any shopping could be carried home by LS who accompanied her by running beside.  That’s when destiny intervened.  Mum nearly fell off her bike!  There in the window of the local Sweet Shop was a large notice: “WE HAVE CHOCOLATE” it exclaimed in large letters.  Amazing, fantastic, wonderful!  It had been years since anyone had seen chocolate for sale and here was a sign proclaiming, they had it!

                That was it, Mum bought three small Cadbury bars and gave them to LS with the instructions to quickly get them to the boys (LB & LLB) who were waiting at home. In the meantime, she would continue with her errands.

                The chocolate excitement having now been transmitted to LS, she grasps her precious cargo and runs as fast as her legs will pump towards home.  That is, she runs until she can’t run any further because she tripped and smashed her head against a low coping wall. (For those who don’t know: Coping is a covering of stone, concrete, brick or terracotta, placed on exposed top of a wall, to prevent seepage of water.)

                Around this point in the story, LS’s memory gets a bit foggy, probably because she had passed out from a concussion.  A kindly neighbour picked her up and took her home and waited with her until Mum returned from her errands.  Mum being mum, doesn’t know what to do with a child that has a bump as large as an egg growing on her forehead, so she follows the old adage: “When in doubt, leave it out”.  There it was left until Dad took charge when he returned from work.

                He knew it was hospital time.  But, unlike here and now, there was no car for transportation, and ambulances were for life threatening accidents only.  That meant a steady walk up hill to the tram stop, then a tram ride to the hospital in Central London.  Eventually, they reach the hospital where LS was cared for.  Dad and she returned home.  Her head was bandaged and Christmas day came, just as it always does.  And it came with a special surprise:  A shiny new satchel for LS!

                Makes you want to believe in the miracle of Christmas, doesn’t it!