The old water bottle

Aren’t memories wonderful? They can inspire you, make you smile, happy… even make you sad and upset. They can be brought on from even the most minor of smells or sounds.

Imagine this, your walking down the street and you stroll past an area of recently cut grass. Suddenly your taken back to your childhood and the time you used to play in the garden; riding your bike all day in the fields; taking the dogs for a walk as a family.

Perhaps it’s the old water bottle you used to have; it’s touch and rubbery feel; the way water bobbled and swished inside it; and the smell of the warm rubber, as you held it against you for warmth. My own water bottle had a panda as a cover, to shield the heat and provide further comfort to the user. In the days my childhood home had no central heating, it provided ceaseless comfort.

What about a new car smell, reminding you of the first one you rode in from the showroom. With the football ground next door, with a game being played. The test drive with you nosing into every crevice, as your driven around.

It’s also very frustrating, when, your unable to recount a particular memory.  A name, a place or a song perhaps. The other day, even with trying my hardest, I could not remember the name of the Wetherspoon’s in Cambridge. It is, of course ‘The Regal’. However, that didn’t stop me from agonising over the name for what seemed an eternity.

Taste, is also a powerful tool. Perhaps memories of things past may not relate but, memories of things learnt are. The way milk should taste, how a sausage roll crumbles as you eat it, the texture of a minced pie. Something you can distinguish as a distinct characterisation unique to the individual item.

Relating taste and smell brings me, routinely, back to my neighbour as a child and the sweet shop. His home, had a particularly musty smell and one that I have very rarely smelt since. I can almost replicate the smell mentally, it is that vivid. Now, I didn’t taste the smell not in this memory. The taste came from the sweet shop just down the street, run by an elderly lady in a small room. Bottle’s of sweets lined the walls and were heaven for a young boy.

Wouldn’t it be great if you could store your favourite memories, just as you can your favourite songs and films. What would you store?