Traipsing up to the local Post Office clutching the letter that I took with me down to town yesterday to post and promptly forgot despite walking right past the town Post Office, set me thinking as I very often do just how lousy my memory is. I haven’t even the excuse that its only been this way since I became a senior citizen. I’ve always had a lousy memory. As long as I can remember. (pun intended.) I mean, how many other people do you know of who have to get daily reminders from their daughter who’s special needs are such that she is reputed to have a ‘short term memory deficit?’
What about my long term memory? Does that somehow compensate for the constant ‘What’s that persons name? What have I come into this room for? What was I just about to do next? Did I lock the door after me? How old is my grandchild this year? or even more damning, ‘What’s my name?’
I tried to recall my first ever memory. Hmm. Difficult. I could very vaguely recall, although it is simply a very quick snapshot, the bedroom in our prefab. I would be about six years of age I can also very vaguely recall my Mum complaining about the fire which apparently she could never get to light for some reason. (coal fire obviously.) I can’t remember the bathroom, my parents room, the garden or anything else about living in that prefab at all. Despite the fact that they were only supposed to be temporary, they remained until 1970 and this estate we now live on is built where they stood.
I can also just vaguely remember walking through the cemetery on my way to school. Could have been on my way to juniors. Yes, it was safe to walk to school in those days, even if you were only seven, eight or nine. This sticks out in my mind because there was a huge angel stood inside a monument and it used to frighten me. (sadly now disappeared.)
My next recollection is me doing some fancy tumbles and acrobatics around the middle pole of a fence which surrounded one of the farmers fields at the bottom of the estate where went to live next. I recall this simply because a piece of rust from the iron pole that I was using to tumble around went in my eye. We all used this particular iron fence to tumble around because it had lost the lower pole of the three horizontal ‘poles’ and was therefore ideal for doing some ‘fancy’ acrobatics on. The topmost pole could be used to hang your legs on enabling you to hang upside down. We spent many an enjoyable hour or two trying to come up with the most daring tumbles and moves with which to impress one another. Can’t remember the content of that field though. Think it was wheat or some such, something that grew very tall because we used to be able to hide in it. (probably from the farmer.) It’s now privately owned bungalows. Can’t remember my age at that recall either.
So, my long term memory isn’t all that brilliant either by the looks of things. I suppose my short term memory isn’t really important until it comes to taking tablets. Did I take this mornings tablets or not? Which goes some way to explaining why I had to insist on having a Medi Dose as an aid memoir and also why my daughter rings me daily when she’s away from home. with ‘don’t forget to take your tablets Mum!’
TG What’s your earliest memory?