Excellent Ant. I think I recognize the Thomas White block from your descriptions – brand new then, now half a century old and superseded by several other ‘new’ blocks. I like your reference to breaking social norms and stretching your abilities: very much how I remember you from those distant days! And as for the room key – what a great image to unlock so many memories.
As one of the other attendees at the event, I found this episode interesting, and I like the evocative words that you have used. It is impossible to convey the many and mixed feelings in a short podcast, so you have wisely focused on a few aspects. My only regret was that I did not manage to meet more of my contemporaries during the evening. The Great and the Good were invited to a private drinks function after the dinner, whereas most of the rest of us went to the college bar. Or am I focusing too much on ‘things that did not happen’, rather than those that did? That could be a subject for a future podcast.
That day, my memories flooded back because of the people. Meeting you and the others in the pub beforehand made me feel like no time had passed at all, and certainly not 50 years.
It’s astounding how sensory perceptions trigger memories, even distant ones. A relatively unchanged path long ago followed. The smell of lavender taking one back to one’s grandmother’s boudoir. In fact, smell is the most powerful trigger for the recall of memory, and, I dare say, your olfactory system recalled the smells within the dormitory.
Following a prolonged period in hospital, whenever my parents would take me to the city where that particular hospital was located for the many appointments that followed for years afterwards, I could smell the hospital the city approached, whether we were going to the hospital or not, even though my memories of my stay there have always been few and vague; even though I couldn’t actually see it. The smell of sterile institution mixed in with sickness and squeaky linolium floors.
One could argue that the smell was a phantom smell triggered by my experience, remembered or not; but since that experience – or, rather, the one leading up to it – I have had an acutely sensitive sense of smell (and hearing), often smelling and hearing things no one else perceives (which, is a problem in and of itself).
Either way, phantom or not, those experiences that hit us profoundly, remain with us… they shape us… they stay with us, sometimes deeply buried within the subconscious. And all it takes is the correct key to open that door.
Excellent Ant. I think I recognize the Thomas White block from your descriptions – brand new then, now half a century old and superseded by several other ‘new’ blocks. I like your reference to breaking social norms and stretching your abilities: very much how I remember you from those distant days! And as for the room key – what a great image to unlock so many memories.
As one of the other attendees at the event, I found this episode interesting, and I like the evocative words that you have used. It is impossible to convey the many and mixed feelings in a short podcast, so you have wisely focused on a few aspects. My only regret was that I did not manage to meet more of my contemporaries during the evening. The Great and the Good were invited to a private drinks function after the dinner, whereas most of the rest of us went to the college bar. Or am I focusing too much on ‘things that did not happen’, rather than those that did? That could be a subject for a future podcast.
That day, my memories flooded back because of the people. Meeting you and the others in the pub beforehand made me feel like no time had passed at all, and certainly not 50 years.
It’s astounding how sensory perceptions trigger memories, even distant ones. A relatively unchanged path long ago followed. The smell of lavender taking one back to one’s grandmother’s boudoir. In fact, smell is the most powerful trigger for the recall of memory, and, I dare say, your olfactory system recalled the smells within the dormitory.
Following a prolonged period in hospital, whenever my parents would take me to the city where that particular hospital was located for the many appointments that followed for years afterwards, I could smell the hospital the city approached, whether we were going to the hospital or not, even though my memories of my stay there have always been few and vague; even though I couldn’t actually see it. The smell of sterile institution mixed in with sickness and squeaky linolium floors.
One could argue that the smell was a phantom smell triggered by my experience, remembered or not; but since that experience – or, rather, the one leading up to it – I have had an acutely sensitive sense of smell (and hearing), often smelling and hearing things no one else perceives (which, is a problem in and of itself).
Either way, phantom or not, those experiences that hit us profoundly, remain with us… they shape us… they stay with us, sometimes deeply buried within the subconscious. And all it takes is the correct key to open that door.
Well done.