I took a wander through some streets that I have not stepped on for many years yesterday, and spent the time since then in a kind of melancholic haze of ghostly reminiscence. I was "brought up" in Borehamwood, living there from the age of three up until I was a grown up (Nearly). My memory for events and times is not great, but I have always been staggered to find how quickly things can reappear from the briefest of stimulants. A road sign, a smell, or a line from a song, and I am there. Just walking along a road that, to be honest, really doesn't have that many significant memories attached to it, was really quite staggering. I took the opportunity to wander off the beaten track a little and pop along to my old watering hole to peer through the window, and whilst it has changed a lot, the place still looks remarkably as it did in many ways. My eventual destination, my Aunts house, was also filled with memories. The place is not one I associate with my time there, but the ornaments and bric-a-brac certainly are. Cheap, tacky things that I spent hours of my life with are all there on display. It is like a mini museum of my childhood memories, but one only I would be interested in seeing really. Perhaps it was the fact that I do not visit very often that brought it all home to me, but I am finding life a little difficult to concentrate on today.
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