Here's a curious thing: I've noticed that, in most of
the houses my family lived in over the years, there was
my present abode began on Monday 12th June 1972, but
we didn't actually move in until Wednesday 14th. "Why?"
you may ask. I assume that the 14th was the earliest date
that we and the family with whom we swapped houses
could jointly book our removal vans.
we should have, and moved into our new one the corres-
ponding period of time later than we were supposed to. As
for our previous domicile before that, we were meant to take
possession on October 28th 1965, but didn't do so until ten
days later. That means I was cheated out of my first Hallow-
e'en in what became my new house, but had an extra one in
its predecessor. "So what's your point, you nutter?" I
seem to hear you all enquire of me in unison.
what subtle way it might have affected (if at all) my per-
ceptions and memories of those times and places if events
had unfolded in the way they were meant to? I had seven
birthdays and seven Christmases in that house, but only six
Hallowe'ens. If we'd moved in on the official date, I'd have
had the full complement of seven All Hallows' Eves. How-
ever, I'd only have had one in the previous house if things
had gone as the council had prescribed, and only one
birthday - whereas my next birthday fell on flitting
day, meaning it belongs to both houses.
Does it make any difference though? That's just
it, I don't know. Part of me says no, another part can't
help but wonder if it might have, because on such seem-
ingly inconsequential events, the repercussions can be po-
tentially immense. For example, if I'd lived in my new home
from the official date we were supposed to have moved in, a
speeding car taking a corner too fast might've knocked me
down, and then I wouldn't be here now boring you with
this tedious exercise in pointless 'what ifs'. However,
because we didn't take up residence until ten days
later, that possible fate was avoided.
Yeah, that's an extreme example, and not quite the
direction I intended to take. What I was trying to get at
is this: if we have a different sense of our own history, can
it affect the way we participate in our own future, and, if so,
in some peculiar way, affect that future to such an extent that
it wouldn't unfold in the manner that it did? (Looking at what
was once our future in the past tense of course.) Yes, I know
that's kind of vague, but it's the best my aged and addled
mind can manage, alas. Hopefully, you'll be able
to see the target I'm aiming for.
If so, feel free to jump in with your thoughts and
theories in our captivating comments section.