Sunday, April 01, 2007

A rose by any other name is a cockup

Fred Snape? Who? I don't think I....
Yes! You remember him! Fred Snape: skinny bloke, rag arm, spits a lot.
Not sure I ...
Yes, you do! His mother used to be a cab-hoss in Brummagem.
And if you couldn't identify Fred Snape after that, there was definitely something wrong with your powers of recall.
And this is serious bok, because recalling people, sharing memories, reminiscing are the stuff of human intercourse, the cement that binds etc etc. The conversation above is authentic, by the way. It has stuck in my memory these forty years.
Sadly, unlike Monsieur Peyrachon qv, I cannot remember names. My daughter had a mnemonic system that she tried to teach me. If, for example, she said , his name is Smith and he has a large nose, think of a blacksmith riding on an elephant. That kind of thing. Knowing my fallible memory, I would probably greet him with some awful gaffe like "Ah, Mr Trunk, how nice to see you again!"
As you can see, I am still suffering guiltily from the misnaming of my lovely neighbour, Angela. Or is it Alison? Damn.

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