Categories: uncategorized
Date: 28 March 2006 14:42:07
I had a genuine sense of déja vu
For a certain reason I had to go to Ayr. Not a very good reason, to be fair, but a reason. It was the first time I'd been there since I was four when we had had a family holiday there. The only thing I thought I remembered of that holiday was that my birthday happened during it, and my parents gave me a little corgi dumper-truck that was a funny shade of yellow (kind of mustardy, but definitely funny). I hope I've misremembered that, and that they actually gave me something else as well, but I can't be sure. They are certainly the most miserly people I know (even including myself, and that's saying something). In fact, when their gas fire died a few years ago and they got a replacement called a "misermatic" I nearly killed myself laughing at how appropriate it was.
So after the train had pulled into Ayr station and I went out through the main entrance, past the car park, I was amazed to find myself knowing that where that car park was now there used to be railway sidings instead. Not thinking that, not imagining it, but knowing it. I had subconsciously remembered it from all those years before. So that holiday had left not just one but two lasting impressions: the yellow truck that I was conscious of having remembered, and a subconscious memory of some old railway sidings as well. I bet my parents would be pleased to know that the holiday was so worthwhile.
Several years later I had a very similar experience of déja vu. As before that was the appropriate phrase when understood literally, but this time it was even more appropriate since it was in France. While we were living in Paris my wife's boss offered us the chance to spend the weekend in her marina apartment in Deauville. Since it was the weekend of the World Cup final being held only a mile or two from our flat we were very glad to have the chance to escape, although even there (as, probably, everywhere in France) it was possible to tell the result just by the shouts even without turning on a TV or radio. Anyway, the point is that the first afternoon when we went for a walk in next-door Trouville, I saw a big hulk of a building on the sea-front and knew instantly that it used to be a casino. Because eighteen years before, on a school trip, I'd seen that building, and at that time it had a huge sign on it announcing its business.
Frequently I wonder what my head is filled with - obviously the answer is knowledge of the history of obscure station car-parks and seaside buildings. No wonder I can't remember anything useful these days.