Can't cope without my nosey neighbours

This morning I had a call from the dentist. My immediate thought was that I had missed an appointment, which wouldn’t surprise me at all.
No matter how hard I try, I am one of those people who constantly misses stuff. Doctor’s appointments, kid’s parties, netball matches – anything out of the ordinary routine is liable to slip through the big, holey net that is my brain.
I write endless lists, I stick neon Post-its on the fridge, I set the alarm on the mobile - which is on loud AND vibrate in my pocket - and scribble notes on my hand, but somehow stuff still slides past me.
There is a version of this put about by my friends (ok, by me), which is that I pack far more into my day than anyone else which makes it far harder for me to remember stuff than anyone else.
Recently when two friends were talking about some remarkable thing I’d done for one of them (oh, rest assured, you’ll hear the whole story) they agreed that I was a loyal and trustworthy friend who could always be relied upon to go the extra mile whenever needed.
There was a pause and then one of them frowned slightly and added, ‘ Well...actually....she’s never there quite when you need her, but she always gets there eventually.’
There are good and bad angles to living in a small village, which will not be world-shattering news to anyone who’s ever done it. The upsides are obvious. When someone’s poorly we walk their dogs, make them shepherd’s pie and put out their bins. There is always someone to water your plants while you’re on holiday. If you break down by the side of the road because you’ve filled your diesel car with petrol you can be sure that within minutes someone you know will happen along and pick you up. And if you go to bed leaving the keys dangling from your front door, you’re unlikely to wake to a living room cleared of TV, stereo and laptop (unless it’s a Bank Holiday weekend).
The downside is that everyone knows exactly what I’m doing at any given minute of any day -sometimes they seem to know more about what I’m doing than I do.
Then suddenly the other day, it hit me like a squash ball between the eyes. I suddenly realised that it’s not sometimes – it’s always. It has taken me ten years, but it just dawned on me that I should stop moaning about this and be grateful that effectively there are hundreds of people living on my doorstep who are managing my daily diary far better than I am.
I finished one batch of writing the other day and went to walk my dog; I hadn’t got far when I bumped into a lady I know vaguely from church.
‘Hello,’ she said with a surprised smile. ‘I didn’t expect to see you this afternoon. Thought you were picking up your cousin from the station.’
Which, of course, is exactly what I should have been doing. Quick about-turn, short jog home, grab a few flowers on the way, smooth the bed sheets and poof up the pillows in the spare room, plonk the flowers in a vase - and I was on the platform with a welcoming grin only a few minutes later than planned, giving cousin no clue whatsoever that I’d completely forgotten she was coming to stay. Thanks to the lady (whose name I can’t remember) from church.
My daughter’s riding teacher texts me on the morning of her lesson to say, ‘Just checking you’ve remembered it’s Friday.’ Her guitar teacher does the same thing on Monday. My Aga man rings me the night before a service to remind me to turn off the oven before I go to bed. It was relatively recently that I discovered that these people don’t do this as a matter of course for all their clients. Just me. Because they know that if they don’t, I’ll forget.
So when the phone rang this morning I should have known better. The dentist’s lovely receptionist wasn’t calling to moan that I’d missed my appointment, she was ringing to check I’d remembered that I have one tomorrow. For which I am very grateful, because of course, I hadn’t.
(Note to editors and clients: None of the above applies to work matters, for which I am always on time and which I never forget about. )