Memory is a funny thing

I have been exploring mine with a fine tooth comb or even a tooth pick for the past few weeks

I have been on holiday with a man that I was at school with 55 years ago. It seems there is no limit to the amount of useless information we have both retained from our school days or the village we lived in. Every small memory from one of us promoted a surprising response of more information from the other. Even really random observations helped us find a recognition of the cast or script of our distant past

So used to delving in the past am I, in my waking hours that my nocturnal meanderings in the dream world have also taken to historic recollection.  Dreaming about the past and revisiting the most mundane of old scenarios has become my nocturnal adventures. I find it both comforting and reassuring. Somehow I am braver in my dream world than I ever was in real life.

Memory is a privilidge I am happy to accomoadate.