My memory ain’t what it used to be!

When I was a child I had a very good memory. I could soak up information like the proverbial sponge, and regurgitate that same information virtually verbatim for around three days. However, after three days, unless I had made an effort to actually learn whatever it was, it would disappear from the labyrinth of my brain to be replaced with a clean slate, ready and poised to receive more and different information.

This was probably just as well – if I remembered all the things that I had at one point learned, my head would have to be the size of a suitcase in order to accommodate all that assembled knowledge!

I have noticed that, since coming to Spain, my memory has taken on a rather Quixotic aspect. It seems quite happy to store some facts, usually those which are of no use whatsoever, while dismissing others out-of-hand. For instance: Names.

I know a lot of people, almost exclusively people I like and whose friendship I value, but my memory is as innocent of their names as a caterpillar is of cannibalism. Some blameless citizen will greet me with ‘Hello Jos.’ Thus I know that they know me – there aren’t that many Jos’s around.

The imp that is in charge of my mental filing system will go into overdrive, searching desperately through my synapses to collate all the evidence before me and present me with a name. Usually the imp comes up with nothing, but the worst is when the imp relays the information that I am talking to – say – Pam. This presents me with another conundrum; Is the imp right?

Has it mistaken Jan for Pam? What can I do? If I respond with ‘Hello Pam’ and I am in fact talking to Jan, then I have offended potentially two innocent people – Jan and Pam. So I slide smoothly over the problem. ‘Hello.’ I say, hoping that enlightenment will dawn, and something that Jan/Pam says will give me a clue.

Over the years I have become so used to this state of affairs that I can glide effortless into conversation without the necessity of knowing the actual name of the person with whom I am conversing. What I cannot do is ask their name – how rude I would appear, as if they were of no consequence to me at all, so much so that I couldn’t even be bothered to remember their name!

Yet ask me some obscure and completely useless fact, like for instance *‘do Butteflies poop?’* and I can give you an accurate and factual answer.

So I would appeal to anyone who knows me to be tolerant, to bear with me and make allowances for my short-fallings. Greet me as if I were a person of limited mental acuity – tell me your name before I sink without trace into the mire of my personal ignorance. Something like ‘Hello Jos, remember me? I’m Pam.’ Which will be fine, unless you are Jan. Or Sue. Or Linda. Or in fact anyone except Pam!

*For an accurate and definitive answer, read the August issue of the Almanzora Group of Friends monthly magazine.