Memory is a funny old thing. Over the weekend we have been travelling the roads of North Devon in search of beauty, coffee and cake. We found it all.
What I hadn’t expected to find was loads of memories. For many years I was part of a team that provided medical services to remote parts of North Devon. A very different part of the world to bustling, cosmopolitan Brighton where I had moved from. At the time my patients would have all been born between 1925 and 1940.
I realise now what interesting conversations I had with those people. Geographically isolated in communities that had changed very little since the end of the first world war. I heard first hand the sort of reminiscences and experiences that were almost unimaginable 30 years ago and impossible currently. Not all the memories shared by these people were positive, bad things can and did happen in beautiful places. I realise now how lucky I was to have spent working in such an interesting place. Returning as a tourist was a fantastic memory jogger.