We worry when we forget things. Going upstairs to look for something but forgetting what we came up for. Searching for the phone while talking to someone on the very phone. Forgetting appointments despite making diary entries.
‘How come?’ you ask, incredulous. We forget to check our diary.
‘Talk about yourself,’ you complain.
OK, I’ll use first person singular.
I’m not talking about forgetting as in ‘forget and forgive’. The topic here is the pure and honest form of not remembering, or alternatively, remembering things earlier than required – like arriving at a training course a day too soon. Let me demonstrate anecdotally how forgetting can work in your favour.
A colleague and I had visited Oban in Scotland for an accident involving a small fishing trawler. Oban has an out-of-this-world beauty. The lochs and glens viewed from the passenger seat of a car are breathtaking. My colleague, like most of the male colleagues I worked with, preferred to drive. Now, don’t start doubting my driving skills – most of my colleagues were serious alpha males.
Every day, we drove the ten miles from our hotel to the vessel and back. I enjoyed the scenery, untrammelled by the rigours of driving or having to keep my eyes on the road. I simply drank it all in. Each day, the sights held a fresh appeal. On the last day, I said to my colleague,
‘Wow! Just look at the scenery. I have never seen such beauty.’
He looked at me with a slight frown and remarked,
‘Mate, we’ve been driving the exact same route for five days and you talk as if you’re seeing everything for the first time.’
That precisely defines me. Without making a conscious effort, I do see everything as if for the first time. As J Krishnamurthy, the philosopher, has said:
‘Freedom is found in seeing without comparison – without the past interfering.’
A couple of weeks ago, I was asked to do a fasting blood test. I made the appointment at Winchester Hospital using an automated telephone service. The first available appointment was at 3:30 pm on Tuesday. The follow-up appointment with my GP was fixed for Thursday morning. I entered both in my diary, forgetting to note that the blood test required me to fast for 12 hours.
Last week, some writing friends suggested we meet for coffee.
‘How about Thursday morning?’ asked one.
‘Fine,’ I replied without checking my diary.
After the time and venue were decided, I noticed I had a GP appointment at precisely the same time. So, I wrote to my friends.
‘I’m a total idiot, I can’t make it to the coffee. Double-booked. You guys go ahead.’ Grovel, grovel.
On Tuesday, I drove to the hospital for my blood test.
‘Have you fasted?’ asked the nurse. She seemed impressed that I had remained without food for most of the day.
‘No, it’s 3:30 pm. How could I fast so long?’ I responded mildly belligerent. How could she even suggest it?
The nurse told me to go away and return on another day.
‘Don’t forget – you can only have water 12 hours before your blood test.’
I called the GP surgery and apologised – no point seeing the doctor without blood counts. Grovel, grovel. They fixed another blood test and a follow-up appointment for this week. Bless our NHS.
I had an enjoyable morning with my friends, showing off a copy of my book Indishman – Reflections from India, Britain and the Sea.
Sometimes, it’s good to forget.
gopistory.com 
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