Weird Thing, Memory

Memories will never leave you alone. That is a fact. They may in the cases of amnesia or Alzheimer's disease be false or corrupted memories, but they will never truly leave. In both of those conditions there is an inability to recall but also a knowledge that something is missing - which is in itself a memory. At this point I must say that I'm not talking about final phase Alzheimer's, which is as complete and horrific as any final phase disease can be.

What I'm talking about is the random transience of memory. How is it that you can use a toaster for a week with no ill effects and then on the eighth day remember precisely how someone used to put a muffin in a different toaster several years ago?! There seems to be no rationale to the trigger-mechanism. It could be a flavour, a frisbee, a festival, a family, a fight, or a fright... an animal, a vegetable or a mineral. After traumatic times you could look, for the very first time, at an image from an electron microscope of a fungal spore and be reminded of someone purely because they had once suffered with athlete's foot. At such times you could literally open a dictionary and create a connection from any word you know to those persons uppermost in your thoughts. Sadly though, the words you don't know make you think: "I bet they didn't know that either". It's a no-win situation. Why this happens, I don't know. It's true that things calm down in time but they can never be trusted to leave completely. The likelihood is that you will have 'given them their coat' but they are still hiding with it in the cupboard.

Memories run the entire gamut of our emotions - I guess that's what makes them memories. For every human emotion we each have ever experienced there is a 'flag' memory that will forever mark its place. There could be a memory that makes you feel wonderfully warm after dropping the evening's meal on the kitchen floor just because you once laughed about it with someone rather than cried. Or it might be a moment at night when you suddenly re-remember something that you're really not proud of, give out an involuntary expletive, and curl into the foetal position.

I just don't know. Maybe someday I'll remember what prompted me to write this.

A Case Study

I had the opportunity to go away recently. It was a fantastic break in Germany visiting my sister and M with equal opportunity to have amazing company or to have solitary ‘me-time’. It wasn’t until nearly the end of my time there that it suddenly became clear to me how much I’d needed it. It was a bit of a brutal reminder of how far you can push yourself without really understanding anything is wrong.


It should be relaxing and comforting to stay in your own environs after change, carrying on as normal with regime guiding the daily passage from waking to sleeping, eating to working, or bathing to bimbling. But it’s not. Familiarity breeds contempt; and in a most insidious way. It’s like holding your breath - initially relaxing and calming but, before you recognise it, a feeling of panic starts to rise from within. “Forgetting to breathe whilst letting your roots rot” would describe it well (I took a cement mixer to that metaphor and I’m proud of it!).


The recovery from this languid malaise started in earnest with the purchase of a new suitcase. Simple, you might say – but one of the most cathartic things I have done in a long time. An unsullied container in which to put my life - a new friend with whom to explore the world - a virgin transporter of my dreams with no labels yet attached. In short: baggage without baggage.


So, the adventure was on and preparations continued apace. Clothes freshly washed, passport dusted off, five packets of chilli con carne spice mix for my sister safely stowed. On placing things in the case on the eve of departure it seemed that, yes, the denims still had their odd fray and thin patch but they were crisp, clean and going to a new place in a new way. Even removing a toothbrush from its holder in my bathroom and packing it for travel suddenly felt like a pilot’s pre-flight checks. When the “little things” in life become that important, you’ve probably already lost sight of the “big things”.



The next day the case’s handle was adorned by its first flight label - Frankfurt Airport; it was to be a new experience for both of us. As holidays go I could not have asked for more with many new friends made and acquaintances’ conversation dallied with. I even have a new travelling companion, Cosmo the Graph (giraffe. See fig. 1), who I accidentally met at a till in a toy shop. Over the next few days Cosmo and I wined, dined, gawped, photographed, shivered, melted, laughed (well I did) and cried (well I did) in Freiburg; one of the most beautiful cities I know.


The stay was incredible. If you asked me what I did, I probably couldn’t tell you. I planned nothing and just let my stream find the path of least resistance. The night before I left I broke down in tears. This was swiftly stemmed by a few well-aimed cuddles from Sis & M, but it was not for a wish not to leave, not for tiredness, and certainly not for the extra couple of Weißbiers I’d crammed into my final afternoon! It was because my body had finally accepted the change and rest that it had been craving for too long. It was simply a release.


On arrival back at Birmingham International Airport after an ‘interesting’ journey, I was collared by a pollster from The Office for National Statistics. As his questions rolled on interminably I could fleetingly see my luggage out of the corner of my eye. Eventually I cut him off, ran, and rescued my suitcase from the eternal luggage carousel. It felt like I was only returning a favour.