I have a theory that we all re-write our history constantly. Editing, changing small details. Usually we strive to have the history memory show ourselves in a favourable light.
I am often amazed to hear a friend's version of an event we both witnessed.
Relatives seem to have very different memories of events, even though everyone was present for the same occasion.
"That is odd" I think, "I dont seem to remember it being quite like your version"
I suspect, that everyone, who does something they later query the wisdom of, or doubt, begins to justify their actions, and rationalise the behaviour. It would seem to be human nature.
Over time, I have finally learnt, not toinsist contradict, or present my own version.
At the end of the day, weeks, months, or years, it does not matter a jot, who has the more accurate recollection.
I tell myself it will all be irrelavent in a hundred years. I suppose the wonderful stories of our ancestors' supposed humourous doings, are mostly made up, or retold so often, they have no bearing on the original event.
I guess photographs are a better record of the past, but I have found even they can lie, or give a very false impression.
I have a lot of letters I wrote to my mother, and she kept them to re-read, and I am quite surprised to read of things I have forgotten. I have some of her letters to me, and two precious letters my Grandmother wrote to both of us.
It seems sad to think that letter writing is a dying art, and very soon, even emails will possibly be 'old hat'.
***
I often think of the odd expressions that were part of my childhood.
There were many, such as 'As useless as a one legged man in an ar$e kicking competition.'
Or 'As useless as a one armed paper hanger.'
I once told my daughter, when she was a rebellious teenager, that 'Perhaps it is time for you to hump your bluey!'
She was utterly dumbfounded, and later, when the heat had cooled from the disagreement, asked me what it meant.
I suppose I must have learnt it from my Australian grandfather, as it means to take your 'bluey', which was a man's bedroll as he made his way around the country, searching for work. Therefore to 'hump the bluey' referred to packing up the bedroll, and other meagre possesions, and slinging them over his shoulder, or hanging it upon his back, and moving on.
Those poor old chaps would have loved to have a modern Backpack!
This cloud does not appear to have a silver lining, but does, however, appear to have a golden silhouette.
***
Now, I have just discovered a pie I was cooking has overflowed and the contents are burnt onto the bottom of the oven!
Drat!
Augie March, There is No Such Place.
I am often amazed to hear a friend's version of an event we both witnessed.
Relatives seem to have very different memories of events, even though everyone was present for the same occasion.
"That is odd" I think, "I dont seem to remember it being quite like your version"
I suspect, that everyone, who does something they later query the wisdom of, or doubt, begins to justify their actions, and rationalise the behaviour. It would seem to be human nature.
Over time, I have finally learnt, not to
At the end of the day, weeks, months, or years, it does not matter a jot, who has the more accurate recollection.
I tell myself it will all be irrelavent in a hundred years. I suppose the wonderful stories of our ancestors' supposed humourous doings, are mostly made up, or retold so often, they have no bearing on the original event.
I guess photographs are a better record of the past, but I have found even they can lie, or give a very false impression.
I have a lot of letters I wrote to my mother, and she kept them to re-read, and I am quite surprised to read of things I have forgotten. I have some of her letters to me, and two precious letters my Grandmother wrote to both of us.
It seems sad to think that letter writing is a dying art, and very soon, even emails will possibly be 'old hat'.
***
I often think of the odd expressions that were part of my childhood.
There were many, such as 'As useless as a one legged man in an ar$e kicking competition.'
Or 'As useless as a one armed paper hanger.'
I once told my daughter, when she was a rebellious teenager, that 'Perhaps it is time for you to hump your bluey!'
She was utterly dumbfounded, and later, when the heat had cooled from the disagreement, asked me what it meant.
I suppose I must have learnt it from my Australian grandfather, as it means to take your 'bluey', which was a man's bedroll as he made his way around the country, searching for work. Therefore to 'hump the bluey' referred to packing up the bedroll, and other meagre possesions, and slinging them over his shoulder, or hanging it upon his back, and moving on.
Those poor old chaps would have loved to have a modern Backpack!
***
Now, I have just discovered a pie I was cooking has overflowed and the contents are burnt onto the bottom of the oven!
Drat!
Augie March, There is No Such Place.
