Memory lane


Funny how certain situations can drag you back to feeling exactly – but EXACTLY – how you felt in your youth, regardless of how many years have passed and how deep you thought those memories were buried. Getting badly sunburned. Starting a conversation in a room full of strangers. Trying to get dressed quickly after swimming in very cold water. (Why are all the examples I can think of horrible?)

Came up with another bonzah example the other morning at about, ooh, 5 to 4. It wasn’t 10 to 4, because although at that stage I was awake and bewildered and whimpering, the vast amount of water that had leaked all over the bed from my hot water bottle’s death rattle had not yet cooled enough for me to realise that my pyjama bottoms and T-shirt were also casualties. But letmetellyou, stripping off wet jamas, putting on dry ones and debating whether ‘it’ll dry on its own’ really rolled back the years, and suddenly I was three again. Although I sincerely hope – for the sake of my parents’ good name in the village if nothing else – that I didn’t swear like that when I was nipper.


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