Do you find, as I do, that as time passes you accommodate a vast sludge of useless information which remains stored in the brain for no purpose whatsoever? Year by year one’s brain becomes a giant land-fill site where the equivalent of rubbish, street garbage, tinsel from a celebration, egg-shells and oranges sucked dry, a multitude of empty plastic containers and disposable detritus and throw-away stuff of every imaginable sort is deposited.
At the same time, there is such an infinite variety of marvelous and valuable knowledge about which I remain, often willfully or at least lazily, unaware. I regret, now that it is too late, that I never stirred a muscle of the mind to learn about a score of things which would have been more fascinating and useful to know than the hundreds of inconsequential tidbits which seep and dribble into the mind daily.
Why, for instance, have I never learnt to understand and speak and write any
