So I made it back…

As the title suggests… I’m back from the frozen North.  Two things must ye know about the North Pole; firstly its very cold (I mean v e r y  cold!) and secondly there is no pole, not physical at least, I guess in geographical terms the word pole means place or point but if you were on the look out for a barber-shop type pole you would be disappointed!

Since my return to England I don’t think I ever appreciated the sun on my back like I have in the last few weeks.  And the smell, ahh the smell.  We just take for granted the smells around us.  When I arrived back in Oslo airport and stepped outside into the evening sun there was a wonderful aroma of warm tarmac, the birds were singing and the sun was just going down behind the runway.  But the smell was remarkable, warm and sweet.  And the sound of birds.  I’d really missed that and now I often find myself in the back garden of my house just listening to the sound of birds.  In particular, at the moment, I am enjoying the skylark, the sound of my youth for some reason?  Sound and smell and music… such a memory trigger.

In fact tonight was one such evening.  I was out in the local town waiting for one of my children to finish an evenings activities and suddenly across the playing field came the smell of drying creosote, no not very romantic I’ll agree but suddenly I was 9 years old again.  That familiar smell of neighbours fences in high summer and the gentle murmur of a radio playing some slow progressive rock ( that could have been from my brothers bedroom, playing Genesis for example) and the sound of birds and not a real care, only, what time is tea?

And so the pictures form in my mind like  photographs, yes they are that sort of faded colour as if someone has opened the back of the camera too early, and they are framed quite oddly but as memories they are comforting and somehow take me back to a gentler time.  In a way that is why I love listening to music, it almost defines certain moments and then coupled with a smell well I’m off.  Or at least my imagination is.   But this is why it is important not to just live in the past with music and moments or else where will the new memories be formed?

If you feel you can share a moment where your memory has been jogged by smell or sound, then I would love to hear it.

I’m pretty sure I’m not alone?

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