At this point I could start telling the more interesting stories of how the very matrix itself seems to be malfunctioning. I could talk about the two very strange things that happened in my house last night, or the two strange encounters with strange people in the town today – one a young man from the local high school, and the other a young woman I encountered in the library. I had no explanation for the young man’s strange behaviour, but decided that the young woman was probably one of Susannah’s friends on day leave from the big house at the edge of town. And then there was the second young woman to whom I said ‘hello’ because she’s an assistant in one of the charity shops and I see her often. Her reply to my friendly greeting was an unusually sharp ‘Mmm.’ But that was only slightly strange, so maybe it doesn’t count.
As for the other strange stories, I’m not going to tell them because there are a lot of normal people out there, and some of them read this blog, and the normal reaction of normal people to strange stories is usually ‘this guy’s mind is malfunctioning.’
It isn’t, you know. Beleaguered though it sometimes is these days, it’s still functioning normally enough to recognise the strangeness in strange things. That means you can’t be crazy, right? Right.
Maybe I should just relate how the cashier in the DIY store asked me ‘Did you get everything you need today?’ after I’d gone through her checkout. What kind of a crazy question is that?