I was searching on the table, for a lid I couldn’t feel…
(My own alternative version to the second line to “The Windmills of Your Mind”.)
Dinner was over and Bill was the first to spring up and start clearing the table. Seeing that my brother was so helpful I thought I, too, would do my bit. In front of me was a plastic container half filled with corn and my eyes scanned the table for the lid. Not really thinking too hard about it, my hand stretched out to retrieve the lid and, to my surprise, found nothing… but the circular design on the tablecloth!
“I’ve done that before, too,” my sister-in-law Lita laughed.
“The other day I thought the hand cream I used was rather funny and sudsy – it was shampoo!”.
I know, I really “should’ve gone to Specsavers!”
Where is that lid?
There you are – behind the coasters!
Apologies to Alan Bergman, Michel Jean Legrand, who wrote the well-known song “Windmills of Your Mind”.
Lyrics
The Windmills Of Your Mind
Round like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning on an ever-spinning reel
Like a snowball down a mountain, or a carnival balloon
Like a carousel that’s turning running rings around the moon
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes on its face
And the world is like an apple whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind
Like a tunnel that you follow to a tunnel of its own
Down a hollow to a cavern where the sun has never shone
Like a door that keeps revolving in a half-forgotten dream
Like the ripples from a pebble someone tosses in a stream
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes on its face
And the world is like an apple whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind
Keys that jingle in your pocket, words that jangle in your head
Why did summer go so quickly?
Was it something that you said?
Lovers walk along a shore and leave their footprints in the sand
Was the sound of distant drumming Just the fingers of your hand?
Pictures hanging in a hallway and the fragment of a song
Half-remembered names and faces, but to whom do they belong?
When you knew that it was over were you suddenly aware
That the autumn leaves were turning to the colour of her hair!
Like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning on an ever-spinning reel
As the images unwind
Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind