Our oldest memories exist in fragments - often vivid but seemingly unrelated to other things that must have been happening at much the same time. They often have more to do with the present than the long forgotten "what happened next?"

At least that's what my old, childhood and adolescent memories are like. And if I meet somebody with allegedly total recall, or read an autobiography of someone who apparently remembers everything that happened to them as a continuous, plausible, narrative flow, then at worst I think they are charlatans and at best I realise they can never have been subject to the kind of fearful but intriguing traumae that shot my narrative memory into bits and pieces, some no doubt too disturbing or outlandish to be recovered.

Well, this was going to be a post about memories of a particular incident that one of yesterday's posts from subz, tirggered, but I think I'll take a break here.