RAMPAGING REPOST: A POOH In The CORNER Of The HOUSE - (Or SOMETHING LIKE THAT - CLOSE ENOUGH)...

Continuing the theme of the previous two posts, here's another earlier one which might add some clarity to the topic.  (Then again, it might not - so no promises.)

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Returning to an oft-repeated theme on this blog which I've probably battered to death - that of memories and associations.  Take the above EP record as an example. ("Don't want it!" you contemptuously reply.)  I got it at an Autumn or Christmas Fayre in 1981/'82, held by the church at the top of the street and across the road from the house I'd lived in from 1965-'72.  Note that I said by and not in.  That's because the fayre (let's call a spade a spade - jumble sale) was held in my old primary school at the foot of the street, primarily (no pun intended) because it had more space to accommodate the aspirations of the event's organisers.

So, to hopefully helpfully reiterate: I obtained the record while living in my current home, from my old primary school in the same street as my former house.  That would explain why, whenever I look at it, I associate it with the area where I acquired it, but - so strong is the link, that I also associate it with my old room and can actually 'see' it there in my mind's eye as plain as day, in some kind of 'false memory'.  Weird, eh?

"Ah, that's easy to explain!" you proclaim.  "You associate the record with your old school and you associate your old school with your old house, so it's only natural that you'd connect the record to the house, too!"  And doubtless you're right.  However, it's still an odd feeling to have what appears to be a memory of something that was never actually so.  Anyone have any similar instances they'd care to share?

Go on - we won't laugh.  Promise.

  

RAMPAGING REPOST: MEMORIES And IMAGINATION...

On the same theme as the previous post, here's an earlier one which perhaps better conveys what I was trying to say.  As always, comments welcome.

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One tends to think of memory's magical kingdom as having fixed boundaries.  Only shadows of the past are allowed residence and interlopers are strictly forbidden.  However, the sentries can be fooled and intruders may sometimes sneak in under the cloak of familiarity if they bear a close enough resemblance to a recognised inhabitant.

"Okay, Gordie, you've lost the plot.  What are you blathering on about now?" you may well be thinking.  Simply this.  If you're around the same age as me, you may well remember the CAPTAIN SCARLET merchandise that was available back in the 1960s, particularly the DINKY diecast vehicles like the SPV, MSV, and SPC.  (Though nowadays it's usually referred to as the SSC.  Perhaps it was only Dinky who called it an SPC?)

I had all of them - and still retain the set I acquired many years ago as replacements for my originals.  I've had them for far longer than I ever owned their predecessors, although it doesn't actually feel like it.  It's almost as if there's never been a period in my life when I was without them, and that the ones I have today are the very ones I had as a kid; hidden in a cupboard somewhere for all those years until I rediscovered them after a long period of neglect.  That's not the case of course, it just seems that way.

However, there are other ways to fool the mind, and here's what I hope is an interesting example of just such an instance.  Back in the very early '90s, THUNDERBIRDS enjoyed a huge resurgence in popularity when the BBC broadcast all 32 episodes on network TV for the very first time.  Previously, back in the '60s (and with most subsequent repeats), they were shown in various TV regions on different days and times.  Amazingly, the '90s screenings were a huge success, spawning a level of merchandise to rival that which was available during the show's heyday. 

The BBC tried again with STINGRAY and CAPTAIN SCARLET, but met with a more muted response from viewers.  However, having anticipated the same kind of enthusiastic reaction that INTERNATIONAL RESCUE had enjoyed, toy manufacturers launched all sorts of items to tie-in with the expected demand for all things GERRY ANDERSON.

Such an item was the SPV 'play set' by VIVID IMAGINATIONS, pictured in this post.  Now, here's the thing: I obviously bought this as a collector's piece, not to play with - and I purchased it while living in my present abode, with where one would naturally assume I would associate it.  But no, whenever I cast eyes on it, I seem to see myself, as a kid, sitting on the doorstep in the back garden of my old house, playing with this exact same vehicle - even though this specific toy didn't exist at the time and wasn't made until around a quarter of a century later.

So vivid is the image that it does indeed seem like an actual memory - as opposed to what is obviously merely my imagination (see what I did there?), facilitated by the fact that I associate the familiar design of the vehicle with a particular period from my past.  In short, it's a perfect fit - and seems more at home in my memories of 1968 than of when I actually obtained it.

Funny how the mind can play such tricks, isn't it?  I believe it's called 'false memory syndrome', which is perhaps where 'Deja vu'-type feelings spring from.  Anyone got any similar experiences they'd care to share?  Feel free to let loose in the comments section.

OUT OF STEP, OUT OF TIME (OR: A FRIVOLOUS PONDERING)...

As someone who's all too aware of the seeming immutability of memory and association, I'm often surprised when I experience instances that fly in the face of the principle.  What do I mean?  Well, if I got an item in, say, the '60s, I'm usually always reminded of the period and place in which I lived when I purchased it whenever I look at the thing, be it comic or toy.

But, sometimes, there are exceptions.  A case in point is this set of WADE porcelain figures, which I've shown on the blog before.  The YOGI BEAR figure was bought in 1970 or '71 and, naturally enough, I associate it in memory with where I was then living, which was the previous house to the one I now reside in.

Around 40 years passed before I decided to track down and acquire the remaining two HANNA-BARBERA figures in the set, HUCKLEBERRY HOUND and Mr. JINKS.  Having bought them only in relatively recent years, you'd think I'd associate them with now, rather than the '70s, but surprisingly, such is not the case.

When I look at Huck and Jinks, I can't help but 'see' them in my old room of my former house, sitting alongside Yogi as if I owned all three pieces back then.  They fit so well into that period that it's hard to separate them from it, and link them to the contemporary times in which they were purchased.

Another of life's little mysteries which I thought I'd share with you all here.  After all, why should I be the only person who has to ponder such perplexities?  Now you can all wrestle with it - and if you feel like commenting on the matter, be my guest.